TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SMOKE"

 

Welcome! This week we have another episode of "The Kicker" and the word prompt "smoke." When you're done here, hop on over to the other authors' wonderful stories. Find them HERE. 

Thanks for stopping by. 

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The meal was fabulous. The only thing to interrupt pleasant talk were the sounds of chewing. Barbara beamed at the “ums” and “ahs” of happy diners. In years past, when Dale had brought home one of her “charity cases”, her relatives had been subdued. Like the visitor had intruded and brought everyone down. But not with Robbie. He bubbled. His enthusiasm permeated the atmosphere. Her relatives responded.

“Which dish did you make, Robbie?” Angela asked.

“None. I just helped. Like with the pie.”

“Then don’t be taking credit for the food. If you get my meaning.”

Silence followed.

Robbie stopped, his fork loaded with stuffing halfway to his mouth. A second later, he put the food in his mouth and chewed. After he swallowed, he broke the heavy silence.

“That’s right, Angela. I can’t take credit for Barbara’s amazing cooking. I was just the bus boy.”

“That’s not true. Robbie was my right hand. We’d never have gotten all this food to the table on time and so perfectly cooked if he wasn’t with me in the kitchen every step of the way,” Barbara said.

In the ensuing silence, Dale noticed a touch of color creep into Robbie’s cheeks. This is what a mother does, defend her chicks.

“Well, I say ‘bravo’ to Robbie for helping create his incredible meal,” Scott said. “Mom, you and Robbie outdid yourselves.” He burst into applause.

Everyone else at the table joined in except Angela. Wearing a pouty expression, she threw her napkin on her plate, pushed her chair away from the table and got up. Without a word, she flounced down the hall. Dale heard the slam of the guest room door.

Conversation resumed. Funny stories past and present filled the air. With the focus off Robbie, Dale slipped her hand over his in his lap and gave it a squeeze. If she worried about him being able to handle himself, that vanished like a mist in the summer sun. He squeezed back and shot her a warm gaze.