I was on the toilet.
“You were saying?” She raises her eyebrows, but I only wave my hand.
“It was nothing.”
We take our seats, and I nearly jump up again when a woman I don’t recognize appears at my elbow. “Roasted beets with organic kale, avocado, and a splash of balsamic vinaigrette.”
Wow. She moves down to Remi, and I watch as a male server puts plates in front of Lillie and Eleanor. The woman who served me opens a bottle of white wine and pours Eleanor a glass. She stops by Remi’s seat and he holds up a hand.
“I have a little more work to do tonight. Thanks.”
“You work too much.” Eleanor’s voice is condescending, and I see him bristle.
The server is at my side. “None for me, thanks!” I cover the rim of my glass. “I still have work to do, too.” Eleanor glares at me, and I smile. “Lillie won’t put herself to bed!”
“Honestly,” she shakes her head. “One glass of wine won’t hurt you. It’s actually good for you.”
“What’s this red thing?” Lillie pokes at the beet on her plate.
“It’s called a beet.” Eleanor touches her small wrist. “Don’t play with your food.”
Holding my breath, I watch as Lillie stabs the dark red slice and pops it in her mouth. Her little eyes widen, and I have no idea what’s about to happen.
“It tastes like dirt!” She announces, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Eleanor is undeterred, calmly taking a bite of her salad. “And how do you know what dirt tastes like?”
“Louie made us all eat dirt to prove we could be good soldiers.” Lillie stabs another beet. “I can eat dirt. I’m going to be a general.”
Remi laughs as he shovels another bite of salad into his mouth. “Take it from me, soldiers don’t eat dirt, honey.”
Eleanor puts down her fork. “While I admire your fortitude, Lillian, you are not to eat dirt at school or anywhere. That’s how you get worms.”
My smile is tight, and while I hate being on Eleanor’s side, I don’t want Lillie eating dirt either.
Her little brow furrows, and she stabs the last red beet on her plate. “What kind of worms? Earthworms are friendly worms, but they wiggle so fast when you touch them.”
She holds up a little hand and squiggles her fingers wildly.
“I’m going to have a talk with your teacher,” Eleanor huffs, leaning back with her wine as the male server reappears to collect our salad plates.
“Miss Terry says dirt has minerals in it.”
Eleanor glares at her, but I jump in to redirect. “It’s true. Pica is a medical condition where patients crave dirt and other non-nutritive substances. Researchers later found many of them were anemic and deficient in other minerals like iron and zinc.”
“So you’re saying Lillian should be allowed to eat dirt?” It’s not really a question. It’s a stabby little barb from Eleanor to me.
“Of course not.” I force a laugh. “I only mean it shouldn’t hurt her.”
“Lillian,” Eleanor turns to her granddaughter. “I forbid you to eat dirt.”
Lillie looks at me, and I nod. “It’s not a good idea.”
The female server enters the room with two plates of meat and a swirled cloud of deep orange fluff. “Free-range pork chops and mashed, organic sweet potatoes locally grown right here in Pike County.”
I’m across the table from Lillie, but the male server stays at her side, slicing her pork into tiny pieces before leaving. Good to know.
“This ought to be good for us.” Remi cuts a slice of the perfectly cooked pork and pops it in his mouth. “It’s delicious.”