Turkey sausage.
Biscuits.
Cut fruit.
Coffee cake.
Enough food for ten people.
“Linda, why did you bring all this?”
“Because someone has to make sure my son nb is being taken care of.”
Before I could answer, Evan came out of the bedroom wearing sweatpants.
He smiled when he saw her.
“Mom. You made it.”
That sentence bothered me almost as much as the door code.
“You knew she was coming?”
He kissed my cheek casually.
“She wanted to help us get settled.”
“We’re not moving.”
He laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
Linda sat at the dining table.
My chair.
Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper.
She slid it toward me.
At the top, written in bold letters:
PIERCE FAMILY HOUSEHOLD EXPECTATIONS
I stared.
The list included:
Breakfast ready by 6:00 a.m. on weekdays.
Evan’s work clothes ironed the night before.
Sunday dinner at Linda’s house every week unless approved otherwise.
No overnight guests without discussing it with Linda.
Major household purchases to be reviewed with Evan’s family.
And my personal favorite:
A wife should never contradict her husband in front of his mother.
I looked up.
