Brunch with Adam
This scene is from Son of a Stitch: A Knitorious Murder Mystery book 5.
In this scene from chapter eight, Megan and her almost-ex-husband, Adam are about to have their weekly Sunday brunch together. Their daughter, Hannah will join them by video chat from her university dorm room.
Brunch is it at Megan’s house, but Adam is cooking. While spending time together with their daughter, they try to navigate the post-divorce landscape of their relationship. They’re determined that their friendship and family will remain intact despite the complication of both of them dating new people.
The original scene, from Megan’s point of view is posted first, and the re-written scene, from Adam’s point of view, is posted after.
Megan’s point of view:
“It smells amazing!” Warm comfort and cinnamon surrounds me when I walk into the house.
“Thanks!” Adam emerges from the kitchen, rapidly stirring something in a mixing bowl. He’s wearing my ruffled apron with the cherry pattern which is much too small for his large frame “It’s Apple Fritter Breakfast Casserole. I prepared it in advance and put it in the oven when I got here.” He stops stirring and tips the bowl toward me. “This is the glaze.”
“It’s yummy. I love it.”
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
“It smells like dessert. I love dessert,” I reason, following him toward the kitchen.
“It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
I nod and pick up my tablet to FaceTime Hannah. “Are you going to talk to Hannah about inviting Jess to Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yeah, if you’re still good with it,” Adam replies, setting the table.
“Of course, I am. I’m sure Hannah will be too.”
I unlock the tablet and open the messaging app. Because my devices are “automagically” connected by the wonderful yet mysterious force known as the cloud, the last text I sent pops up on the screen.
“Who’s that?” Adam asks. Still stirring briskly, he lifts his chin toward Karen’s photo on the screen.
I tell him how Karen, Jess, Eric, and I unwittingly ended up in the same room yesterday.
“Jess told me,” Adam says. He puts the mixing bowl on the counter and wipes his hand on the apron. Then he picks up my tablet and examines Karen’s photo. “I’ve never met Karen, but I’ve heard about her. She’s one of Jess’s work friends.” He looks at me, then hands my tablet to me. “But I recognize her.”
“From the medical centre where Jess works?” I venture a logical guess.
Adam shakes his head, and I notice the grey around his temples is more pronounced than it used to be. It really stands out against his dark hair and enhances the laugh lines around his blue eyes. “No. From my office. Well, the building where my office is located.”
“Oh? Is she there often?”
Adam’s office is in a large, renovated Victorian house. He’s one of four professional tenants. There’s also a financial planner, an insurance broker, and a therapist—Emory Solomon.
“I’ve seen her a few times waiting for Emory.”
Karen Porter is Emory’s patient? But Emory and Dr. Armistead were friends. At least, I assume they were friends since the Solomons invited Dr. Armistead to their house for dinner on Friday. Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for Emory to treat his friend’s girlfriend? Did Karen know Emory and Dr. Armistead were friends? Does Emory know Karen was dating his friend, Dr. Armistead?
“That arrangement would be too cozy for my liking,” I comment.
“Me too,” Adam agrees. “Even if they all know, it crosses a line.”
“And I thought we had boundary issues,” I mutter.
“What?”
I know he heard me.
“What?” I answer his question with a question.
We FaceTime with Hannah while Adam serves breakfast. We catch up with our daughter and hear about her life in the big city. Next weekend is Thanksgiving, and Hannah will be here in person for brunch. We haven’t seen her in six weeks, and I can’t wait to hug her.
“I told you she’d be fine with Jess coming to Thanksgiving. Have you invited her yet?”
He doles out another serving of casserole to me, then himself. “No. I wanted to make sure Hannah was comfortable first. I’ll ask her today.”
“Since I’m hosting this year, do you want me to invite Jess? You know, so she knows we all want her here.”
“I’ll invite her, and I’ll tell her you and Hannah are on board. Thank you, though.” Adam smiles.
I sense he wants to say more, but he’s hesitant.
“Well, if Jess offers to bring something, say no. The rest of us are bringing enough food to feed a small town. Or she can bring those little loot bags she hands out after she cleans our teeth, and everyone can take care of their dental hygiene after dinner,” I joke.
We laugh and Adam makes another joke about all of us speaking to her with our mouths open, to make her more comfortable.
“I’m happy you and Jess hit it off,” he says. “And thank you for looking out for her when you guys found Dr. Armistead.”
“Of course,” I reply. “You always had good taste in partners.”
“You guys have been texting pretty regularly,” Adam says. “And she stopped by the store with Karen yesterday, when she could’ve just picked up her car and left.”
“We get along well. She’s great. Would it make you uncomfortable if Jess and I are friends?” I ask Adam the question he never asked me before he befriended Eric.
He sits back in his chair. “I didn’t think so, but it’s…awkward knowing you and Jess have your own relationship that doesn’t include me. I don’t know how to describe it. Do you know what I mean?”
“I have no idea.” My voice practically drips with sarcasm.
“I get it now, Meg. I didn’t get it before, but now I do. It didn’t occur to me that my friendship with Eric might be uncomfortable for you. I should’ve talked to you about it a long time ago. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Eric and I talked about it,” I tell him. “It’s all good.”
“While we’re on the subject”—Adam leans forward and puts his elbows on the table—“Eric is my friend, but you’re my family. You’re Hannah’s mother, and we’ve known each other forever. I will always have your back. Whatever happens between you and Eric, or me and Eric, or whatever. I’m on your side. Every time.”
“I know.” I put my hand on top of his. “Ditto.”
Navigating our new post-marriage friendship is like walking a tightrope. It’s all about balance and planning the next step carefully. Some days we’re wobblier than others, but for the most part, we haven’t fallen off yet, even though we might be tempted to give each other a little shove sometimes.
“How’s the new laptop?” Adam asks, changing the subject.
“It’s purple!” I reply, telling him my favourite feature.
“How does it function?”
“I brought it home to show it to you.” I leave the table and return a moment later, clutching the laptop to my chest. I shove the dirty dishes to the far end of the table and place the laptop in front of him. “Ta-da!”
“Very nice,” Adam says, running a finger along the edge of the device and admiring my first-ever, solo technological purchase. “May I?” he asks, opening the laptop a smidge.
“Of course,” I reply. “You should get acquainted with it since you provide all the tech support.”
“Same password?” he asks.
I nod.
Adam types in the password and icons fill the screen.
“Have you used it? Everything running OK?”
“It seems fine. But I just got it yesterday afternoon, so I haven’t really used it. Just played with it.”
“Jamila didn’t install the anti-virus software?” Adam asks, furrowing his thick eyebrows.
I shrug. “I have no idea. She said it would sync with my other devices.”
Adam installs a cyber security software on all our devices. It scans everything we open and keeps out viruses, and spyware, and such. It works silently in the background of the computer, so I’m unaware of it most of the time. When it comes to my relationship with technology, out of sight is out of mind.
“I’ll install it,” he says without looking up.
He taps a few keys, we wait a few moments, then he declares the laptop safe from virtual intruders and closes it.
On the table between us, my tablet dings. I unlock the screen with my fingerprint.
Eric: Armistead died of anaphylactic shock.
“That’s a relief,” I say to Adam as I type a response to Eric.
“Not for Dr. Armistead,” Adam responds.
Me: Case closed?
It’ll be nice not to have Dr. Armistead’s unfortunate death hanging over us.
Eric: Case upgraded from suspicious death to homicide.
“What?” Adam and I say in unison.
Adam’s point of view:
“It smells amazing!” Meg says, closing the door behind her and bending down to detach Sophie’s leash.
“Thanks!” I say, standing in the kitchen and stirring the glaze. “It’s an Apple Fritter Breakfast Casserole.” I stop stirring and tip the bowl toward her. “This is the glaze.”
I look ridiculous in this stupid, ruffled, cherry-covered apron. It’s about ten sizes too small for my six-foot frame, but it’s the only apron I could find. Meg must’ve rearranged everything after I moved out. Either that or I never noticed where she kept the aprons since I didn’t cook when I lived here.
“It’s yummy. I love it.” Meg smiles.
I appreciate her not commenting or laughing at the apron.
“You haven’t tried it yet,” I point out.
“It smells like dessert,” she reasons with a single-shoulder shrug. “I love dessert.”
“It’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
She nods and picks up her tablet to FaceTime Hannah.
“Are you going to talk to Hannah about inviting Jess to Thanksgiving dinner?” she asks.
“Yeah, if you’re still good with it,” I reply, setting the table.
I’m still not sure I’m good with it. Introducing my new girlfriend to my family is a huge step. It makes our new, post-divorce family feel permanent and real.
“Of course, I am,” Meg insists. “And I’m sure Hannah will be too.”
When Meg unlocks the tablet, the messaging app is already open. Because I connected her devices to each other, they sync automatically, and the last message she sent pops up on the screen.
“Who’s she?” I ask, still stirring the glaze.
I lift my chin toward the familiar face on the tablet, trying to recall where I’ve seen the woman before.
Meg tells me how she, Karen, Jess, and Eric unwittingly found themselves in the same room yesterday. Poor Eric! That must’ve been awkward. As Meg tells me about the uncomfortable encounter, I remember where I’ve seen the woman on her tablet screen.
“Jess told me,” I say about their tense confrontation. I place the mixing bowl on the counter and wipe my hands on the tiny apron. Then I pick up the tablet and examine Karen’s photo. I’m positive this is the same woman. “I’ve never met Karen, but I’ve heard about her. She’s one of Jess’s work friends,” I say, handing the tablet back to Meg. “But I recognize her.”
“From the medical centre where Jess works?” she probes.
“No.” I shake my head. “From my office. Well, the building where my office is located.”
“Oh? Is she there often?” Meg inquires, squeezing her eyebrows together, her interest piqued.
“I’ve seen her a few times waiting for Emory.”
Now that I know who she is, I wonder if Karen’s relationship with Emory is a conflict of interest. Should a therapist treat his friend’s girlfriend? Sounds like a recipe for trouble to me! Did Dr. Armistead know his girlfriend was seeing his friend and colleague, Emory Solomon?
“That arrangement would be too cozy for my liking,” Meg comments, interrupting my internal debate.
“Me too,” I agree. “Even if everyone knows, it crosses a line.”
“And I thought we had boundary issues,” Meg mutters.
“What?” I ask, pretending not to hear her passive-aggressive comment.
“What?” she asks, raising the stakes with yet another passive-aggressive remark.
Here we go. If there’s something my ex-wife and I excel at, it’s competitive passive aggression.
Meg FaceTimes Hannah while I serve breakfast. We catch up with our daughter and hear about her life in Toronto. Next weekend is Thanksgiving, and Hannah will be here in person for brunch. We haven’t seen her in six weeks, I can’t believe how much I miss her.
“I told you she’d be fine with Jess coming to Thanksgiving,” Meg says after we end the video chat. “Have you invited her yet?”
I dole out another serving of casserole to each plate.
“No. I wanted to make sure Hannah was comfortable first,” I reply. “I’ll ask her today.”
“Since I’m hosting this year, do you want me to invite Jess?” Meg offers. “You know, so she knows we all want her here.”
“I’ll invite her, and I’ll tell her you and Hannah are on board. Thank you, though.” I smile and swallow the rest of my sentence.
There’s more I want to say, but Meg might get defensive. I don’t want our visit to be awkward.
“Well, if Jess offers to bring something, say no,” Meg quips. “The rest of us are bringing enough food to feed a small town. Or she can bring those little loot bags she hands out after she cleans our teeth, and everyone can take care of their dental hygiene after dinner,” she jokes.
We laugh and I make a joke about everyone speaking to Jess with open mouths, to make her more comfortable; like we do when we’re in her dental chair.
“I’m happy you and Jess hit it off,” I say truthfully. “And thank you for looking out for her when you guys found Dr. Armistead.”
“Of course,” Meg replies. “You always had good taste in partners.” She winks.
“You guys have been texting pretty often,” I say. “And she stopped by the store with Karen yesterday, when she could’ve just picked up her car and left.”
“We get along well. Jess is great,” Meg explains. “Would you feel uncomfortable if Jess and I are friends?”
There it is, the subject we should’ve discussed months ago.
“I didn’t think so.” I sit back in my chair, “But it’s… awkward that you and Jess have your own relationship that doesn’t include me. I don’t know how to describe it. Do you know what I mean?”
“I have no idea.” Meg’s voice oozes with sarcasm.
“I get it now, Meg,” I admit. “I didn’t get it before, but now I do. It didn’t occur to me that my friendship with Eric might be uncomfortable for you. We should have discussed it a long time ago. I’m sorry we didn’t.”
“Eric and I talked about it,” she informs me. “It’s all good.”
“While we’re on the subject”—I lean forward and put my elbows on the table—“Eric and I are friends, but you’re my family. You’re Hannah’s mother, and we’ve been in each other’s lives forever.” I look her in the eye. “I will always have your back. Whatever happens between you and Eric, or me and Eric, or whatever. I’m on your side. Every time.”
“I know.” Meg rests her hand on top of mine. “Ditto.” She smiles.
I love her smile. It was the first thing I noticed about her when we met, and it’s still my favourite smile.
I let Meg down in marriage, but I won’t let her down in divorce. Passive aggression and sarcasm aside, some days are harder than others, but we’re making our new family dynamic work.
“How’s the new laptop?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It’s purple!” She lights up when she tells me her new computer is her favourite colour.
“Does it work OK?” I clarify.
“I brought it home to show it to you.” Meg leaves the table and disappears into another room, returning a moment later with the purple laptop clutched against her chest. She shoves the dirty dishes aside and places the laptop in front of me. “Ta-da!”
“Very nice,” I say, running a finger along the edge of the device, and realizing this is Meg’s first technology purchase without my guidance. “May I?” I ask, cracking open the laptop.
“Of course,” she replies, beaming with pride. “You should get acquainted with it since you provide the tech support.”
“Same password?” I ask. She nods. “Have you used it? Everything running OK?”
“It seems fine.” Meg shrugs. “But I’ve only had it since yesterday afternoon, so I haven’t really used it. Just played with it.”
“Jamila didn’t install the anti-virus software?” I ask, glad I checked.
Meg shrugs again. “I don’t know. She said it would sync with my other devices.”
“All right if I install it?” I ask without looking up, already downloading the app in question.
I configure the cyber-security app and check that it’s running in the background, then I close the laptop and push it toward her. On the table between us, Meg’s tablet dings. She unlocks the screen.
Eric: Armistead died of anaphylactic shock.
“That’s a relief,” she says after reading the text out loud.
“Not for Dr. Armistead,” I comment as she types a response, then places the tablet where we can both read it.
Meg: Case closed?
I hope so. We’ve had enough murder investigations to last several lifetimes.
Eric: Case upgraded from suspicious death to homicide.
“What?” we blurt in unison.
Are you ready for the next Knitorious Murder Mystery? You can find Crime Skein: A Knitorious Murder Mystery book 6 here.