Chapter 24
Greg looked up from the simmering sauce he was stirring. “How was work?” He tapped the wooden spoon onthe edge of the pot and placed it on the counter. “And I don’t want to hear any Martha Stewart cracks, either.”
I choked back a snort. “I’m pretty sure Martha would be mortified if anyone thought she’d opened a jar of sauce and warmed it up as-is.”
“‘As-is’ my rear end, I chucked some frozen meatballs in there.” The affronted expression Greg managed to affect was comical.
“I stand corrected, Martha would be proud.”
“Damn straight. Martha wishes she had my mad jar-opening skills.”
“And bag-o-salad opening flair.”
“Exactly.” Greg glanced at the clock on the stove. “So, what time do you figure Wes will be home? That frozen garlic toast takes only about five minutes in the oven, and the pasta around ten. This saucecan simmer as long as we want, so we can hold off.”