After thirty-nine years of marriage, Tom knew there was little value in arguing once I had decided to feed the family.
Around noon, I drove to Davis Market.
The Texas heat shimmered over the parking lot. Mr. Davis stood behind the butcher counter, as he had for as long as I could remember.
“What are we preparing today, Mrs. Miller?”
“A family barbecue.”
He smiled.
“Then I’d better bring out the good cuts.”
He selected brisket with a generous fat layer, meaty ribs, well-marbled skirt steak, and several thick steaks for Tom to grill and slice.
When everything was placed on the scale, the total came to thirty-three pounds.
“Big crowd?” Mr. Davis asked.
“Not really. Just family.”
He gave me a knowing smile.
“Sometimes family eats more than a crowd.”
I laughed, thinking he meant it affectionately.
Later, I understood that his words carried another meaning.
I paid $250 and loaded the bags into my car.
