The kids are already gone from the table, but their mess still remains. Robyn is standing over the sink. She’s using an artist’s smock for an apron. She’s got a white plate in one hand, and a plastic hand-held dish scrubber in the other.
She turns, smiles. “Nice of you to show up for dinner, Bec . . . What uhhh, what were you and Sam doing all that time?”
The look on my face gives the whole thing away.
Robyn’s eyes go wide. “Well, it’s about time.” Setting the brush and plate into the sink, she dries her hands. “So, how’s it feel to be back in the game, honey?”
“Wonderful.” I go to the refrigerator, find a cold beer. “In fact, more than fine. Now I need a drink. Join me?”
“You know it.”
I steal a beer for her too. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, we pop the tabs and drink.
