Carin cautioned. “But I really think you’ll be sorry.” “That’s not a word.” Corey reached for a handful of popcorn from the bowl Carin set on the table. He tossed a kernel into his mouth as he studied the Scrabble board. Nearly every space was filled, just a turn or two’s worth of tiles remaining in the red-velvet pouch set to the side of the kitchen table. “At least not the way you have it spelled.” “Are you going to argue with your English teacher?” Carin gathered a handful of popcorn. The aroma of butter clung to the air, making her stomach grumble. She wondered if Jake was eating on the run again as he planned Pastor Julian’s memorial. The elderly man had no family, and Jake loved him like a father. Carin tamped a wave of sadness and focused on the game. “Of course testatrix is a word.” “Yeah—it was one of the vocabulary words you assigned in English class. But you’ve spelled it wrong here. There should be an A between the T’s—not an E.” Corey glanced at his tiles, then the board, and Carin knew he was carefully debating his next move.
