The idea was halted in its tracks. “Probably,” admitted his mother. “But he likes what he does. You know that.”Scott nodded solemnly. “Y...ah, I know.”Sitting down, Scott dished up his meal of a pasta casserole and steamed vegetables. He bit in and instantly loved it. His mother was a fantastic cook, and regularly produced meals without any recipe in front of her at all. She loved to experiment, but always seemed to have a knack for the perfect balance of spices, salt or sweetness. It was. " I could text her. Tell her to forget the whole thing." Whatever you want to do." Oh fuck it. We've come all this way. I don't want to hurt her feelings.Let's see what happens. If it doesn't feel right we can just leave." Okay."We get out of the car. I walk carefully over the broken pavement onrope-soled platform sandals. There's a mailbox on the corner. We crossthe street, approach the dismal entrance."Maybe we need a safe-word," my husband suggests. "In case anything shedoes makes you. More

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