Make Me Yours(24)

My smile is tight, and while I hate being on Eleanor’s side, I don’t want Lillie eating dirt either.

Her little brow furrows, and she stabs the last red beet on her plate. “What kind of worms? Earthworms are friendly worms, but they wiggle so fast when you touch them.”

She holds up a little hand and squiggles her fingers wildly.

“I’m going to have a talk with your teacher,” Eleanor huffs, leaning back with her wine as the male server reappears to collect our salad plates.

“Miss Terry says dirt has minerals in it.”

Eleanor glares at her, but I jump in to redirect. “It’s true. Pica is a medical condition where patients crave dirt and other non-nutritive substances. Researchers later found many of them were anemic and deficient in other minerals like iron and zinc.”

“So you’re saying Lillian should be allowed to eat dirt?” It’s not really a question. It’s a stabby little barb from Eleanor to me.

“Of course not.” I force a laugh. “I only mean it shouldn’t hurt her.”

“Lillian,” Eleanor turns to her granddaughter. “I forbid you to eat dirt.”

Lillie looks at me, and I nod. “It’s not a good idea.”

The female server enters the room with two plates of meat and a swirled cloud of deep orange fluff. “Free-range pork chops and mashed, organic sweet potatoes locally grown right here in Pike County.”

I’m across the table from Lillie, but the male server stays at her side, slicing her pork into tiny pieces before leaving. Good to know.

“This ought to be good for us.” Remi cuts a slice of the perfectly cooked pork and pops it in his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

The female nods and leaves the room.

“Daddy and I had pigs in blankets for lunch!” Lillie announces proudly as she pushes the sweet potato mash around her plate.

Eleanor’s eyes go wide. “Who in the world gave you that? Remington?”

He starts to answer, but Lillie cuts him off. “Ruby made them, and I helped! Ruby’s not like Tiana. She can’t cook everything in New Orleans.”

My lips press together, and I’m not sure if I want to laugh or crawl under the table.

Eleanor puts her fork beside her plate and glares at me. “You might just as well have fed her dirt. Do you know how many chemicals… how much sodium is in a hot dog?”

“Ruby said they were cocktail weenies.” Lillie starts to giggle, stacking her sweet potatoes higher on her plate. “She said weenie.”

“Lillian, stop playing with your food. It’s bad manners.” Eleanor clears her throat and turns to me. “Perhaps we should sit down and create a menu for lunches each week.”

Remi puts his fork beside his plate. “It was a delicious lunch, complete with baby carrots—”

“And ranch dressing!” Lillie cries.

Eleanor puts her hand to her chest as if she’ll faint.

My lips press into a frown, and I push my own sweet potatoes around. Ma was pretty much Suzy Homemaker when I was growing up, but all I know how to make is spicy dumplings and kimchee. Drew’s house was where I got American food, and we ate all the things I know how to prepare… none of which are free-range or organically grown.

“I appreciate your feelings about a healthy diet, Eleanor,” Remi continues. “I also appreciate Ruby’s effort preparing a fun lunch for Lillie, even if it falls outside your nutritional norms.”

He’s kind of awesome sticking up for me, and I give him a grateful smile.

“Remington, you can’t let her eat that trash. Too much sodium is bad for her heart, juvenile diabetes is at an all-time high, obesity is—”

“We can talk about it later.”

Looking down at the fancy meal before us, I guess pop tarts are off the list. I’ll have to do some research on healthy eating and step up my game a little bit, maybe pull Ma into the mix. I don’t want to make Lillie unhealthy.

Finally we’re done, and I lead my little charge up two flights of stairs to her elaborate bedroom. It’s like a room in a palace with an ornate headboard and thick, fluffy duvets and loads of pillows.

She’s bathed and dressed in her Elsa nightgown, searching for a book to read as I pick up her clothes and put them on hangers.

“You’re old enough to hang your own clothes now.” My tone is gentle, and I pull the sleeves of her coat out of the body. It’s when I notice a crinkly ball in the pocket.

Reaching inside, I pull out three packets of ketchup. The kind that comes from fast-food restaurants. “What’s this? Where did you get these?”

The minute she sees me, her face flushes with shame. She runs to where I’m standing and takes them from me. “Don’t tell Gigi. She’ll never let me get a puppy.”

My mouth drops open, and I watch as she reaches under her bed for a plastic, heart-shaped box. It looks like the one the evil queen gave the huntsman for Snow White’s heart, and I pause for a moment to consider just how gruesome that storyline is for children.

She opens it, and it’s stuffed with ketchup and mustard packets. I’m completely bewildered by all this new information. A puppy? And what the hell is up with all the condiments?

“Where did you get all of these?” I rake my finger through the little foil pouches.