Chapter Thirty-Four
Margaret was suddenly inspired to make a roast for dinner that evening, so on her way home she stopped quickly at the market. It had been some time since she cooked anything as elaborate as her mother’s tenderloin, even though it was a family favorite. When she arrived home, she got to work peeling potatoes and carrots, salting the meat, and heating the oven. She was happily lost in her work in the kitchen when her mother arrived with William, and Maisy and John returned from school.
“Making my roast beef?” Sara seemed pleased as she followed the scent into the kitchen.
“I am!” Margaret smiled at her mother, taking the baby from her arms. “I felt in the mood today.”
“How wonderful, dear. I’ll set the table.” All at once, Margaret realized her mother had grown used to filling in the gaps for her.
“That’s all right, Mom. Maisy, John, and I can handle it. Right, kids?” she said enthusiastically to her older two as they sat at the table coloring.
“Well, then. If you don’t need anything else, I’ll go.” Margaret sensed her mother’s unease, as though she didn’t trust Margaret to do all of this correctly.
“Thank you, Mom. We’ll be fine. We really will.”
By the time Frank arrived from the store, she had put the children’s mess away and gotten the table set. Margaret met him in the foyer.
“Well now, this is a nice surprise.” Frank embraced her as she gave him a peck on the cheek, handed him a freshly poured martini, and took his hat and coat.
“Maisy, John, wash your hands and come to the table! Daddy’s home, it’s time for dinner.”
Margaret felt Frank’s eyes on her, and she turned toward him with a reassuring smile. She was okay.
“Can I help?” He tried to follow her into the kitchen.
“Absolutely not! Go get settled and then have a seat and relax. I’ll be right in.”
“Do I smell roast beef?”
“Perhaps.” Margaret glanced coyly over her shoulder.
“Maisy, John—I think Mommy made beef castle, you better get to the table before I eat it all!”
“She did, Daddy! It’s beef castle for dinner!” Maisy cheered as she slid into her seat and anxiously awaited the meal. Margaret had renamed this dinner “beef castle” years before, to entice the children to eat it. Today, she couldn’t imagine inventing a meal that encouraged playing with food so much—the slice of roast beef teetering on top of a large scoop of mashed potatoes, a moat around it of pearl onions, peas, and carrots. But Margaret had been freer when the children were younger. More fun. She knew that person still existed inside her somewhere; she just had to recapture that spark, and now she knew that she could.
“Are we celebrating something tonight?” Frank asked appreciatively. “Did I forget someone’s birthday?” Frank looked at his son with an exaggerated quizzical expression.
“No, Daddy! It’s not my birthday.” John laughed. “You know my birthday is after the Fourth of July!”
“Of course.” Frank mock slapped himself on the forehead. “We haven’t seen the fireworks yet, have we? So, what could we be celebrating?”
“I think we are celebrating William’s new tooth!” Maisy pointed at her baby brother, who was smearing potatoes around his high-chair tray. Normally this would have made Margaret rage inside, but for some reason, tonight she found it endearing. She was finding this whole dinner perfectly silly and joyous and . . . normal. Yes, it felt special because it was like it used to be.
“I suppose I am the only one who knows what we are celebrating tonight.” Margaret smiled. “We are having a very special dinner to celebrate . . . nothing!” Maisy and John burst into hysterical laughter and she winked at them.