“Mom, that pot is boiling over.” Rae watched the bubbles foam and tip over the side from her position next to the ultra-hot grill pan. She couldn’t leave the fish, not if she didn’t want it to overcook.
Her mom flew into action, venting the lid to reduce the boil. The scent of potato water on a hot burner filled the house, making Rae’s stomach twist. She’d always hated the burnt smell of starchy water and hot metal.
Rae often spent Sunday evenings with her mom. Saturday evenings too, especially since her last break-up the previous fall. Fine, most evenings, if she was feeling particularly alone or needy. Which seemed to be all the time since her birthday a couple of months ago. If her mom noticed Rae’s increased presence in her house, she hadn’t said anything.
mostRae had noticed, thoug
