The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

“Well, now that that’s over with…” Luke says after she walks away, and I notice he’s blushing slightly.

“Dude, your mom’s great,” A.J. says.

“Yeah, she’s cool,” Isaiah agrees.

“You look like her. You both have—” I stop myself before I say “kind eyes” because that could get misconstrued. “—the same hair.”

Now Luke bursts out laughing. “The same hair? She’s stuck in the eighties!”

“The same hair color,” I clarify. Then I clamp my mouth shut before I dig myself any deeper.

We settle back into strategizing our cooking times then, and I think we’re only halfway through when I notice how dark it is outside. And also how much I have to pee.

I stand up and stretch. “Um, where’s the bathroom?”

“Straight that way, on the left,” Luke says, pointing down a hallway behind him. I make my way in that direction, passing a room with a door that’s open a crack and Luke’s mom must be watching a soap opera in there because I hear her say, “Why would you do that, Jenna? He’s never going to leave her for you. They’re the supercouple of the show, for crying out loud.”

I suppress a smile as I continue down the hall. I see two doors to the left and one is wide open. It must be Luke’s room because there’s an enormous poster of a guy upside down in midair on a BMX bike. Also, the room is a mess. The bed is unmade and there are clothes all over the floor. Luke’s elbow injury makes a ton of sense now.

A red-faced Luke swoops by then and shuts the door. “Heh-heh, nothing to see there.”

I can’t help but laugh. “That was an eyeful.”

Luke’s mom emerges from her room then. “Oh, sweetie, did you just have to see that mess? I hope you aren’t scarred for life.”

“It’s not that bad, Mom,” Luke says, his face even redder now. “Besides, Ellie wants to be a meteorologist. She’s seen worse on those weather disaster shows.”

Casey nods approvingly and winks at me. “Smart and pretty, that’s a good family member to have.”

Now my ears get hot. I drop my eyes to the floor and focus on the beautiful dark-brown inlay of the hardwood floor below me.

“Why don’t you guys take a break and use that foosball table downstairs you begged me to get,” she asks.

“We’ve still got a lot of work to do,” Luke says. “We’re probably going to be here late.”

Casey seems to consider this. “Well, okay, then why don’t I heat up that lasagna and some meatballs for you guys? Joe and Ryan are at that Devils game tonight and someone’s got to eat it, right?”

My stomach growls as if on cue, and they both hear it. Casey smiles at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Sit tight, sweetheart, we’re gonna get you fed.”

Maybe I could be friends with Luke. Just for his mother.

Casey sets the dining room table and eats with us, telling stories about Luke that make us laugh and make Luke’s face grow redder and redder.

“If I’d known all my deepest secrets were going to be spilled tonight, I’d have suggested we work at the library,” Luke says, shaking his head.

“But then we wouldn’t have gotten this feast,” A.J. says, his mouth full.

“Yeah, thank you, Casey,” Isaiah says. “I wasn’t expecting to get fed!”

Casey winks at him. “Any family of Luke’s is a family of mine.”

“I assume this means we should be in charge of kitchen cleanup,” Luke says.

“Of course we should,” I say, standing up and gathering my plate. “It’s only fair.”

“I approve of this other family of yours, Luke,” Casey says, ruffling his hair.

Much like we do in class, we station ourselves by the sink and kitchen cabinets, basically forming a human dish-washing chain. A.J. washes, Isaiah and I dry, and Luke puts everything back where it belongs.

“I’m sorry that even out of class, we’re cleaning a kitchen together,” Luke says with a laugh.

“Please,” Isaiah says. “It’s the least we could do for your mom getting us—”

He’s cut off by a loud burst of music with the words, “Here’s my story, sad but true, it’s about a girl that I once knew…”

Luke closes his eyes. “Mom, come on, please!” he groans.

“She took my love and ran around, with every single guy in town,” Casey’s voice intermingles with the music. Then she pops her head into the kitchen. “‘Runaround Sue’ is a classic, honey. Your friends should know it.”

Now Luke shakes his head at us apologetically as his mom dances out of the room. “Sorry, this is my mom’s after-dinner routine. Cleaning the house to the oldies.”

A.J. bops his head along as he washes a glass. “I dig it.”

I move in time to the beat as I dry a plate and Luke’s face softens. “Looks like Agresti likes it, too.”

An unexpected explosion of delight cuts through me, hearing him call me Agresti again. “It’s catchy,” I say.

And then it happens. We’re all dancing, moving in rhythm to the music as we dry plates and utensils. Luke extends a hand out and I take it, and he expertly twirls me around, then spins me back toward Isaiah, who catches me. I lose my footing, though, and we stumble backwards into the counter and laugh so hard that we both start crying.

A feeling of warmth grips me then, the act of dorking out and just enjoying my fake family. Even Luke. It’s the happiest I’ve been … in a while.

When we get back to work, Casey lowers the volume, but continues with the oldies playlist, which is the soundtrack to the rest of our budgeting. We’re either super reinvigorated from the food or our dorky dancing or both, and we manage to finish up our meal-prep discussion and do our budget in an hour.

My mom, who’s been driving for Lyft to make some extra money on her days off, texts that she’s on her way home and can pick me up. Isaiah’s mother arrives first, then