Her stomach grumbled as she rang the doorbell. She’d waited longer than normal to get a bite to eat, because she knew her mom would overdo it like she usually did and cook enough for a small army. Mom answered the door wearing an old sweater and loose fitting pants. There were streaks of flour on her face from baking, so she must’ve made a dessert too. “Hey baby,” she said and gave her a hug. “Hey, Mom.” “Come on up, you’re just in time.” “I always know when to show up, when the food’s right on the table.” “That you do.” Her parents’ house was two stories in a much nicer development than Sammi’s, but she wouldn’t complain; she lived in a fairly decent suburb. Her father, also her boss, ran a CPA company, and also sold CPA training materials. They’d always been fairly well off, thankfully.
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