He seemed a little puzzled by her playfulness, and for a moment he looked at her as he had last night, as if she had somehow become a stranger, but eventually he smiled back at her, and said, “Be-yootiful. You’re a knockout, hon.”
She sketched an imaginary curtsey and said, “Thank you, kind sir.” She paused. “Now, what are we going to do about dinner? Mom said there was some stuff in the freezer but I guess it’s too late to defrost anything.”
She crossed over to the fridge and opened it. After perusing the contents for a moment she looked back at her father and asked, “What would you say to an omelet?”
“Sounds good. You get the eggs going and I’ll get the innards ready.”
She was glad they had plenty of eggs—she was famished. She pulled out six and went to crack them into a bowl while her father poked around in the fridge for the rest.
He came up with some leftover ham, some cheese, half a
