Patricia Davids - Prodigal Daughter

He leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Margaret, please get my sister on the phone. She should still be at her office at the university.”

“Yes, sir.”

He leaned back and waited. Melissa needed a place to stay and he had an extra bedroom at his home. If Angela and Dave didn’t have any objections, maybe Melissa could stay with them.

Before he got too far into his plan, Margaret buzzed him to let him know his sister was on the phone. He picked up line one. “Hi, Angela. I’m sorry to interrupt you at work. Are you busy? This could wait.”

“I’m swamped, but now is as good a time as any. I was getting ready to call and let you know I’m going to be late again tonight. Do you think the girls will mind pizza?”

“They’ll survive. Do you know what Dave has planned?”

“He said this morning that he would be working late at the house. He’s getting the rest of the electrical lines run tonight so the drywallers can start putting up Sheet-rock tomorrow. What did you need?”

“Do you remember Melissa Hamilton?”

“Certainly. I had her in my English 101 class last year. She was a bright student, but she never seemed to have much focus. Once she turned in the most amazing paper on women writers from the South, but her next piece was terrible. It was as if she didn’t want to succeed. Why do you ask about her?”

“She’s in a bit of trouble and she’s looking for a place to live. If you didn’t mind, I thought I’d offer to let her stay with us while you and Dave are there.”

“It’s your home, of course, but why can’t she stay with her mother? The Hamilton house is bigger than yours.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it, but she has her reasons. I only thought of it because you mentioned hiring someone to help with the kids until your workload lets up. I know that Dave is spending all his free time getting your house repaired. With Melissa living at our place, it might make things easier for you. It’s just an idea.”

“I did like her, and I certainly don’t mind helping someone out. I’ve received more than my fair share of help from friends and family since the fire. It would feel good to give back a little. You’re right, it might make things easier. I’ll talk it over with Dave and give you an answer in the morning.”

“Great. Thanks, sis.”

Richard hung up the phone. His sense of satisfaction was quickly followed by a niggling doubt. Was he helping or hurting Melissa by trying to make things easier for her?

Melissa let herself into Amy’s apartment. Tossing her handbag on the desk, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the sofa. Lassitude crept over her and she longed for a nap. A nap at one o’clock in the afternoon? Did being pregnant make everyone exhausted by the middle of the day? How had her mother managed to do this five times? Once with twins, no less!

A single glance at her puffy ankles was enough to convince Melissa she needed to put her feet up. It didn’t take much extra effort to pull the coverlet over her shoulders and settle her head on one of Amy’s bright green throw pillows. The next time she opened her eyes, the clock on the wall said two-thirty and she was starving. Again.

A handful of carrot and celery sticks pilfered from her sister’s refrigerator took the edge off her hunger pangs, but she wanted something more, something substantial. As she surveyed the contents of her sister’s cupboards, fridge and freezer, Melissa settled on a plan of action. Lasagna, garlic toast and a fresh salad would make a wonderful dinner. Never one to do much cooking, Melissa searched for and found a cookbook with full color photos of the finished product.

Her mother was fond of saying, “If you can read, you can cook.” Usually she had been talking to the boys at Sunday dinner when they started complaining about their bachelor existences and living off takeout. Well, there was no time like the present to test her mother’s theory. Wouldn’t Amy be surprised when she came home?

Setting to work with a sudden burst of energy, Melissa diced, chopped and simmered away the rest of the afternoon. By five-thirty the apartment was filled with the smells of tomato sauce, oregano, basil and baking bread. She was setting the table when she heard Amy’s key in the door.

Amy walked in and stopped short. “I must be in the wrong apartment. Something smells wonderful.”

“Surprise! I thought I would make dinner to say thanks for putting me up—and for putting up with me.”

“Melissa, I didn’t even know you could cook.”

“You’d better reserve judgment until after you taste it. The bread is sort of burned on the bottom and the tomato sauce didn’t thicken the way the recipe said it would.”

“I’m still impressed. Let me change and call Bryan first.”

Melissa’s pride in her accomplishment plummeted. “You have plans for tonight, don’t you? Of course you do. It’s Friday.”

“Bryan had asked me out, but he’ll understand.”

Melissa plopped into one of the padded Windsor chairs that surrounded Amy’s table. “No, don’t change your plans for me.”

“I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste. Bryan and I can change our date to Saturday.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“No, don’t do that.” Dejected, she straightened the silverware beside one plate.

Amy came across the room and sat beside her. “Do you think you made enough to feed two more people?”

Melissa brightened, “I’ll have to throw together a little more salad, but sure.”

“Great. I’ll ask Bryan and Dylan to come over, then we can still catch a movie afterward.”

Mollified, but still unhappy that she hadn’t thought about asking her sister if she had plans, Melissa retreated to the kitchen while her sister went to change. Stacks of tomato-stained pans and bowls met her gaze. When had she made such a mess? Even the stovetop was splattered with burned sauce. She hurried to load the dishwasher and wipe up before her sister noticed the disaster in her normally immaculate kitchen.

Later, with Amy and Bryan heaping praise on her for the meal, Melissa began to feel that she hadn’t completely blown the couple’s evening. Dylan cleaned his plate in short order.

“You’d better hurry, Dad. We don’t want to miss the movie.”

Bryan smiled and rubbed his son’s unruly hair. “Take it easy, tiger. We won’t miss a thing. I’m sorry we have to eat and run, Melissa.”

She waved aside his concerns. “The next time I decide to whip up a feast, I’ll make sure no one has plans.”

Amy sent Bryan on to the car with Dylan, then she turned to Melissa and said, “I know you’ve been worried about how you were going to tell everyone about your pregnancy. I sort of took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve called everyone except Dad. I’ll let you tell him in your own time.”

Melissa’s hands clenched into fists at her side. She struggled to hide her sense of betrayal. “Amy, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“I understand that you wanted to tell the others yourself, but this way you don’t have to face everyone and rehash the story over and over. Now, it’s done and you won’t have to worry about it any longer.”

Her anger at her sister faded quickly. Amy was right. It was a relief knowing that everyone had been told. Melissa gave Amy a wry smile. “My big sister is still trying to find ways to make life easy for me.”

“Just this one last time. Then I’m done, honest.”

Melissa bit her bottom lip, then asked, “What did they say?”

“I’ll spare you the brotherly comments. Once everyone digested the news, they were willing to support you in any way they can.”

“And Mom?”