Chapter 6

“Except you.”

She pushed a basket of cinnamon rolls at me, which were still warm. And even though I knew I’d be eating all day pretty much, I took one and tore off a hunk.

“Mama, I’m going back to Los Angeles on Sunday.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“You do?”

“I figured. You couldn’t wait to get away from us all.”

“Mama, that’s not—”

She waved her hand. “It’s all right. I know you like your independence.”

“I do. And I don’t know, really, if I’ll ever make it work as an actor, but if I don’t, I’ll go back and finish nursing school in LA. And I’ll make you and Pop proud. I swear.”

“We’re already proud, dummy.”

I laughed. “This is good.”

“Of course.”

“So, what all is on the menu? And don’t tell me ‘a little bit of this, a little bit of that.’”

“Well.” She shrugged. “Your father showed you the turkey. And stuffing. Potatoes and gravy. Cranberry sauce. Real, not that canned stuff. Spaghetti and meatballs. Dinner rolls. Three kinds of pies—”