"She said she was going to make me things."
"She's going to make you so many things."
"What things?"
"Everything you like," I said. "Once she knows what you like, she'll make all of it. That's how she works." A pause. "You should tell her about the allergies."
"She already asked," Nick said. "She had a list."
I sat with that for a moment. My mother had asked Mrs. Peterson for the allergy list weeks ago. She had it written in the small notebook she kept for exactly this kind of occasion. She had been preparing to feed my son since November, when she counted him in a list of grandchildren in a Seattle kitchen without being asked.
"Of course she did," I said.
"It was a long list," Nick said. "Her questions."
"She's thorough."
"She asked if I liked the soup. The ginger one." A pause.
