"When she says everyone that is what she means," Andi whispers across the table, "like, she won't cut the pie until everyone is ready for dessert, because that wouldn't be fair."

...Trouble raises his eyebrows incredulously.

"Not everyone eats as quickly as you do, Andi," says Renée. "If you're bored you don't have to sit at the table, I'll call you when it's time for dessert."

The phone rings.

Trouble watches this whole process curiously.

"Are you going to eat your salad?" Andi asks Trouble.

"Nope," says Trouble.

"Why not?" asks Renée.

"Don't feel like it," says Trouble.

"It's nutritionally important to eat a well-balanced diet," says Renée. "If you only take care of yourself when you happen to feel like it, you'll get sick. You're not my child, so I can't make you eat what you're served, but I think you should."

Trouble shrugs. "And I don't feel like it."

Renée picks up his bowl of salad, puts plastic wrap over it, sticks it in the fridge, and touches the side of the pie plate to see if it's cool.

It's just barely still warm.

She starts cutting slices. The twins get the first two, Trouble gets one, and then she sits down with a sliver of her own.

"This is very good. Thanks for making it," Bella says.

"You're welcome," says Trouble.

"I'd like a copy of your recipe," agrees Renée.

"What recipe?"

"For the pie."

"Yeah, like I said. What recipe?"

"You just play it by ear?"

"Works out pretty well, don't it?"