Not only was she the best cook Trip had ever known, her no-nonsense attitude toward life was refreshing. She had a way of abusing Trip about his Band-Aids and clumsiness without him feeling abused. Hands folded for a short, mealtime grace, Gerty noticed that Trip was down to only two Band-Aids. He was making progress. The golden roasted chicken dominated the center of the kitchen table. The oval serving platter was rimmed with glazed carrots, redskin potatoes, and onions. Sprigs of parsley provided a touch of green. Trip bit his lower lip as he braced himself for the coming accusation. He was a murderer. Thunderbolt was no more. He snuck a peek at Gerty’s prizewinning rooster laid out before him. Gerty started her dinner prayer, “And dear Lord, we thank you for our many blessings. Please remember those less fortunate. And grant us the wisdom to discern the difference between a common laying hen and a two-time champion rooster.” Sneaking another peek, Trip was caught.
