As Little As Possible, Chapter 4
Cecilia perched on the counter and peered down at the stove. “Are you sure that much garlic powder was supposed to go into it?” she asked.
“How much did I put in?” Abigail asked, raising her head up from the refrigerator.
“A teaspoon, I think.”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” Abigail replied, shutting the refrigerator door and placing various herbs and vegetables onto the counter. “I’ve told Dad about a million times that this stuff doesn’t go in there. The onion’s going to be all soggy.”
Cecilia shrugged. “Cook the onion down a little first,” she suggested. “It’ll look about the same that way, whether or not it was in the fridge. You know, all limp. Chop it up small, too.”
“Good idea. Did you see any parsley flakes in the cabinet over there?” Abigail asked.
“Which one?”
“The one right by you.”
“Nope. I think you used the last of it last week.”
“Shoot, and I asked Dad to pick some more up the other day. Guess we’ll have to do without.”
“His fault if this tastes weird without the parsley.”
“It’ll taste fine, either way,” Abigail confidently declared.
“Hey, girls,” their father, Cassius, greeted them, entering the kitchen. “Smells good.”
“Abigail’s trying out this recipe she found online,” Cecilia announced. “So far, she hasn’t set the kitchen on fire yet.”
Abigail laughed good-naturedly and pretended to push Cecilia off of the counter. Cassius watched them for several seconds and cleared his throat. He shifted awkwardly.
“I talked to Wray today,” Cassius finally said, looking at the floor.
“Good for you,” Abigail replied, her tone neutral.
“He asked about you.”
“So, he feigned an interest in your family. That was kind of nice of him, I guess.”
Cassius took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “He wants to marry you,” he blurted out.
Abigail dropped the spoon on the counter and whipped around to face her father. “Harold Wray? That scumbag you work with?” she spat out. “Forget it, I’m not doing it.”
“Abby, you’re not getting any younger, and you really should think about moving out, settling down with a nice man--”
“Mr. Wray is not a good man. You just don’t like the idea of having your ugly old spinster daughter hanging around,” Abigail snapped.
“It’s not that at all!”
“I’m not marrying that jerk. Who’s going to take care of Cecilia? You‘re never around, and when you are--”
“--I can take care of myself,” Cecilia spoke up, giving Abigail a dirty look.
“I still have to remind you to do your homework and put your dirty clothes in the hamper!” Abigail shot back.
“Don’t use me as an excuse!” Cecilia snapped, hopping down from the counter. “I’m not a baby, and you’re not Mom. I hate when you treat me like I‘m a kid or something.” She glared at Abigail and Cassius. “I’m going to my room.”
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Abigail cried out, hurrying after Cecilia.
“Forget it, I ate earlier,” Cecilia replied sharply, storming away.
Abigail looked after Cecilia, shoulders slumped. She looked over at her father, narrowed her eyes, and said, “I’m not marrying him, and that’s final.”