“You didn’t get the dressing right again, dear,” he called from the table. In the kitchen, she clenched her eyes and hands and took what were supposed to be five deep breaths. She could hear him crunching the salad, despite his complaints.
She tried to sound pleasant and cheerful through clenched teeth. “Oh?”
“I don’t think you got the mix of oil and vinegar quite right. Did you call my momma to ask how she makes it?”
“I followed her recipe. Dear.”
“Well, you still didn’t get it right. Again.”
He gasped as she poured first the vinegar, then oil, then a powdery mix of herbs on his head.
“I think it’s just right, now.”