26

A short while later, I grinned at her, replete and satisfied.

“That was the best Beef Bourguignon I have ever tasted. I can’t believe you made bread.”

She popped a grape into her mouth, chewing slowly. The small bunch of flowers I brought her sat beside her in a small vase. I had remembered her musing of loving grapes, and the small corner store where I got the flowers had them on display. I might have bought too many, judging from the large bowl of them between us.

“Stew. It was just stew. Not Beef Bourguignon.”

“Still amazing. Like the bread.”

“It’s a fast bread. It’s so dense, it’s great with the stew.” She glanced around the room with an almost forlorn expression. “Your kitchen is so well-stocked.”

“You can use it anytime you want.”

“Do you cook?”

“I can do the basics. And by that, I mean toast, canned goods, and frozen pizza.”

“And coddled eggs.”

I winked. “Only on special occasions.”

“What did you do when you all lived together?”

I chuckled, thinking about those days. “I was in