“So, my mom called with our assignment for Thanksgiving dinner.” Steven avoided making eye contact with Haley.
“I’m so excited to finally meet your family,” she said. “What does she want us to bring? I’ve been going through my recipes, and I have some real winners here.”
“She asked us to pick up the Parker House rolls from Lieder’s Bakery and paper napkins for the kid’s table.”
Haley looked up from her cutting board. “Your mom does know I’m a sous-chef at one of the best restaurants in Pittsburgh, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she does, Hales. She told me everything else is covered.” Steven began describing the menu. “Aunt Carol is making her green bean casserole. Nana Pierce is in charge of desserts; mom always makes the turkey and dressing. My dad does the gravy. Aunt Lulu brings her sweet potato casserole. Then there’s my three sisters and my cousins. Everybody has a signature dish.”
“Except us apparently,” Haley mumbled.
“Hey, you’ll be cooking all week at the restaurant. My mom probably figured you’d be happy to do something simple.”
“But the rolls from Lieder’s are horrible. Why don’t I make them? I was the pastry chef before my promotion.”
“Well, Pops loves them, so we have them every year. It’s tradition.”
“Fine.” Haley seemed anything but fine. “I wouldn’t want to mess with tradition.”
Steven shrugged and reached for Cooper’s leash.
I’m going to take Coop on a walk before dinner.”
Haley resumed chopping the vegetables with a vengeance. She removed the braised chicken breasts from the skillet and added the onions, potatoes, carrots, and seasonings and sautéed them to a golden brown. Next, she gradually added flour, white wine, chicken stock, and smoked paprika. After returning the chicken to the skillet, she brought everything to a boil before covering the skillet and placing it in the oven.
After setting the timer, she cleaned the kitchen and set the table.
Growing up in a foster home, she did a lot of dishes, but she didn’t get many home cooked meals. The Reeves were a nice family and they tried, but with seven foster kids, money only stretched so far. Their only food traditions were oatmeal, puffed wheat or puffed rice cereal for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and an apple for lunch, and canned soup or pasta from a box for dinner. Sometimes it was mac and cheese, but most of the time it was spaghetti with sauce from a can or a jar. Mrs. Reeves kept boxes of cake mix in the cupboard for their birthdays and little plastic cups of vanilla ice cream in the freezer.
Haley thought everyone ate that way until she was invited to her friend Miranda’s house. Mrs. Lewis made everything from scratch. She watched in amazement from the family room as Miranda’s mom glided around the kitchen adding ingredients and seasonings to boiling or simmering pots and pans on the stove. One taste and Haley was convinced that Mrs. Lewis was an angel in disguise, and the food had come straight from heaven. That very night, she decided she wanted to be a chef.
Steven and Cooper returned a few minutes before dinner. The dog went straight to his water dish, drank his fill, then picked up his food bowl and carried it to Haley.
“He’s as hungry as I am.” Steven inhaled deeply. “Something smells wonderful.”
Haley’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Go wash up for dinner. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
***
Chef Dumont looked at Haley in disbelief.
“What do you mean you weren’t asked to make anything for Thanksgiving dinner with your fiancée’s family? Don’t they know you’re the second in command at ‘la petite fête’?”
“Steven has a large family and apparently they have the food covered.” Haley tried to keep her voice light as if it weren’t a big deal.
He placed one hand on his hip and waved the index finger of his other hand in her direction. “Please tell me you are not going to show up with those horrible flour pucks Frank Lieder passes off as edible dinner rolls.”
“It’s my first time meeting them.” Haley handed him her menu suggestions for the upcoming holiday. “Steven and I haven’t known each other that long, and his parents think we’re rushing into marriage. It’s only natural for them to be on the fence about us. I don’t want to rock the boat.”
“But don’t you want to show them how talented you are?” Dumont scanned the revised menu and approved it. “Nice work, Haley. What have I always told you?”
“Don’t let anyone dim your light,” she replied.
“Exactly, you’re a star. Act like one.”
***
Haley searched the row of paper goods for the cheeriest Thanksgiving napkins. She shook her head when Steven held up a pack with a large turkey wearing a pilgrim’s hat.
“This one,” she said reaching for a pack depicting Charlie Brown and his friends eating Thanksgiving dinner at a long picnic table.
Steven nodded and put several packs into their shopping basket.
“Why does your Pops like Lieder’s rolls so much?”
“That’s a long story,” he said.
“Well, we’re in a long checkout line. I have time to listen.”
“My grandma Sylvia passed away when my dad was nine. Pops wasn’t the best cook, but he tried. For their first Thanksgiving, they made a turkey, instant mashed potatoes, and green beans.” They inched closer to the register as he continued. “My dad helped make the gravy. Pops bought a pumpkin pie at Lieder’s Bakery for dessert and Mr. Lieder threw in a bag of rolls for free. He bought an apple pie for Christmas. Free rolls. Coconut cake for Easter… free rolls.”
“So, it really did become a tradition.”
“Yes. When Mr. Lieder’s son took over the business, the free rolls stopped, but by that time, it didn’t feel like a holiday without the rolls.” Steven paid the cashier and tucked the bag under his arm. “My mom was never a fan, but she understood the importance of those rolls to dad and Pops.”
“Maybe she’s testing me,” Haley said.
Steven shrugged.
“We can bring the damned rolls. Your family might not need or appreciate my culinary talents, yet, but someday I’ll get a dish on that table.” She pointed down the street. “In the meantime, the soup kitchen at St. Benedict’s is about to get very lucky.”