The metal pan struck the bottom.
Hard.
For a second, I simply stared.
Not at the pie.
At her.
She dusted her hands.
“There.”
Then she turned.
Noah was standing in the doorway.
Backpack over one shoulder.
His face had gone still.
“Mom.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“What?”
“That was Grandpa’s pie.”
“I know.”
“It was good.”
Vanessa sighed.
“You ate it?”
“One piece.”
“Without asking me?”
Noah looked down.
She continued.
“You don’t eat random food without knowing what’s in it.”
I said.
“Vanessa.”
She turned.
“What?”
“It wasn’t random.”
She stared.
“It’s done.”
Then she walked out.
Noah looked toward the trash.
“Grandpa.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
“It isn’t.”
He was right.
But I didn’t want him carrying adult anger.
I smiled.
“We can make another.”
His face brightened slightly.
“Can I help?”
“Yes.”
Emma appeared.
“Me too.”
“Fine.”
“Two unpaid assistants.”
