Wood Worked

Spencer noticed. “Alyssa here is treating us to steak night.”

Flynn cocked his head at me. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. When I talked to Nana earlier, I asked her which grocery stores delivered, and she told me all the best spots.”

“You won’t find anyone who knows more about Lake Boise than Nana,” Raphael said.

“That’s for sure,” Spencer agreed. “Anyway, we have Lyss to thank for this treat.”

My face reddened. “I just ordered the ingredients—it’s not like I’m the one cooking.”

Raphael was quick to defend me. “No one expects you to in your condition. Just wait until your cast comes off; then you can take over the kitchen if you’d like.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “The problem with my cooking isn’t the bad leg. The problem is that I have no cooking skills.”

Flynn made a grunting sound that might have been a rusty laugh.

Lucas jumped off the hammock just then, causing it to rock back and forth with Charlotte still inside. Her giggles echoed off the side of the house. “Alyssa walked here,” he told Flynn.

“From where?”

“From her room.” Lucas seemed to think that was sufficient explanation, but Spencer did not.

“She made it all the way out here on her crutches. It’s been a bit tricky with her bruised ribs, which you would know if—”

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked Flynn, cutting Spencer off.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to get to see your crutching in action?” When I didn’t respond to that, he nodded. “A beer would be good.”

“Waiter?” I tugged on Lucas’s sleeve, and he laughed. “Can you go see if Uncle Rafe has something Uncle Flynn can drink?”

“Sure.” He seemed to like being deputized.

Charlotte took his place after he left. “I can be a waitress.” She seemed to have followed our conversation wonderfully well, even though they’d told me it was hard for her in a big open space with multiple people talking. I wondered if the presence of a person who didn’t sign had encouraged her to focus more on spoken language rather than sign.

“Can I get an order of baby carrots?” I asked her. It was the only thing I could think of, since we’d be eating soon.

“Sure thing,” she said and hurried away.

Spencer looked over at me and winked. “We’ll have to be sure to tip the waitstaff after we eat.”

I nodded and then pointed back at the grill. “Guard that with your life,” I reminded him. He nodded and got back to it.

The steaks were incredible. I already knew that Raphael was a good cook, despite his addiction to heat, but this was only the second time I’d see Spencer grill. And the other time had been rather unexciting chicken thighs. “You did a great job,” I told him.

“Why do you keep saying that to Dad?” Charlotte asked.

“Because her mouth isn’t on fire,” Raphael said at the same time Lucas said, “Because she can’t cook.” Raphael signed something to Charlotte, and I figured he was catching her up on what both of them had said, since it had been at the same time and probably hard for her to suss out.

I grinned. “Both are true.” But then, as I finished the rest of the steak—or at least as much as I could eat of it and the delicious sides—a sense of unease filled me. Tonight, for me, wasn’t just about treating the people who’d done so much for me to a good meal.

When everyone was finished except Flynn, who looked determined to polish off his very rare steak or die trying, I cleared my throat. “Before we adjourn to story time, I’d like to request a meeting among the adults after the kids are in bed.”

Several raised eyebrows met my words, but it was Lucas who responded first. “Why just the adults?” He had a look on his face that said he was prepared to protest. Charlotte did, too.

“I need help with my taxes,” I responded instantly. Oddly enough, that seemed to satisfy both children.

Flynn caught my eye. He looked as incredulous as I felt. What was with kids these days? That hadn’t even been a good lie.

“I think that can be arranged,” Spencer said, though he looked puzzled.

“All of us?” Flynn asked, and I nodded. “All right then.”

Raphael agreed, too.

Whew. That was the first part of my plan. My last one, faking a fall by the window, hadn’t worked very well. Or possibly it had worked a little too well, considering I’d actually ended up stuck on the floor unable to get up. But the idea behind the plan, which was to take the lead and be more assertive, had been a good one. Or at least I hoped so, because I was going to try it again.

“Can you help me?” I asked Raphael when he came out to gather more dishes.

“Sure.” He set the plates on the table and bent to pick me up.