He nodded and sat down at the splintered table, which had several match books under one leg to keep it balanced. Bella had turned back to the sink as if she had no idea he was in the room. But he could hear her breathing heavily and he knew she was having a hard time holding back the rage that strained to break loose.
Lola picked up a large spoon and moved majestically toward the stove. She was an excellent cook, extremely proud of it, and always anxious to prove it. She bent over the stove, studied the contents of a huge pot and a couple of smaller ones, and murmured, “It’ll take just a minute to warm up.”
“No hurry,” Kerrigan said. He lit a cigarette and leaned back.
Lola was stirring the spoon in the pots, lifting the spoon to her mouth, testing the flavor of the beef stew and the rice and the summer squash.
“Needs pepper,” Lola murmured. She looked at Bella and said, “Get me the pepper.”
“Let him get it.” Bella spaced the words distinctly.
“I told you to get it,” Lola said.
Bella sucked air in between her teeth. She moved away from the sink, opened the kitchen cabinet, and grabbed at the pepper shaker. She brought it to the table and slammed it down in front of Kerrigan.
“Not there,” Lola said. “I told you to bring it here. To me. And bring your face here so I can smack it again.”
Bella swallowed hard. She was afraid to move. Kerrigan reached for the pepper shaker and handed it to Lola, who took it without looking at it. Lola aimed a dim but dangerous smile at her daughter.