Delicious food

Sandra laughed and shook her head. "Who said I was going to convince you? I will be the last person to tell you to apologize to him. On what ground? Listen, what you said is exactly what I expected from you. How can you be the one to apologize when he was the one who messed up? I won't even let you do that.”

Emily let out a slow breath. “Exactly. I won't try it."

“I was so angry when your dad was telling you to go to his house and apologize,” Sandra said. “Honestly, I wanted to shout at him. I was holding myself."

Emily frowned. “I don’t actually blame my dad.”

Sandra turned to her. “You don’t?”

“Yes, I don't blame him.” Emily calmly replied. “The old man is scared. Desmond employed him. He's afraid that Desmond will fire him and stop giving him financial assistance. That fear controls everything he was saying.”

Sandra shook her head. “Still, it’s wrong.”

“It is,” Emily agreed. "We are like slaves to him, but not anymore. I won't let it continue."

Sandra leaned against the counter. “So what's your plan?"

Emily rinsed her hands and dried them with a towel. “I’ll visit him.”

Sandra frowned. “Visit him?”

“Yes, I will visit him.” Emily said. “But I'm not going there to apologize to him.”

“Since you are not going to his house to apologize, what are you going there to do?” Sandra asked.

“We’ll talk,” Emily answered. “I’ll tell him how I felt. If he listens and admits he's wrong, maybe we can fix things.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Emily met her eyes. “Then I’ll cut ties with him. I will know I tried my best.”

Sandra went quiet for a moment. Then she smiled slowly. “I love your energy.”

Emily laughed softly. “My energy? Honestly, I just feel tired.”

“I still don’t want you to go at all,” Sandra said. “But I respect your decision. And if it doesn't work out and he fires your dad, I will talk to my father. I'm sure he won't turn his back on your father."

“Thank you very much for giving me hope.” Emily replied. “That means a lot.”

"No matter what happens," Sandra said after a while, "with me behind you, you have nothing to worry about."

Emily looked at her. “I know. That’s why I can still smile.”

Sandra bumped her shoulder playfully. “Good. Now focus. The potatoes are almost done." She said, and Emily laughed. “Yes, chef.”

Sandra picked up the frying pan, and they returned to cooking. Emily focused on the potatoes, rolling up her sleeves and moving around the kitchen like she belonged there. She peeled, chopped, and boiled the potato before she moved on to prepare the salad.

Sandra stood a few steps away, working on the chicken, seasoning it carefully, and dropping each piece into the hot oil.

After a few minutes, Sandra paused and sniffed the air. She turned slowly toward Emily.

“I love the aroma of your potato salad. It smells nice. I'm sure it's going to taste better than mine." Sandra said, and Emily laughed. “You haven’t even tasted it.”

“I don’t need to,” Sandra replied. “The smell alone is bullying my chicken.”

Emily shook her head, clearly amused. “Stop it. You are exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Sandra said. “My dad is about to ask questions.”

They both laughed as Sandra went back to turning the chicken. Soon, everything was ready. Emily carefully dished the potato salad into a large bowl, smoothing the top and wiping the edges clean.

Sandra turned off the cooker, placed the fried chickens on a serving tray, and removed her apron. Together, they took the food to the dining table, and Sandra arranged it in order.

“Let me go and call my dad. Don't start eating without me.” Sandra warned.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Emily replied with a smile, and Sandra left.

She got to her father’s door and knocked twice. Emily could faintly hear her voice calling him to come and eat. A moment later, Sandra came back down alone.

“He said he’s coming.” She announced and sat opposite her. Her dad would be sitting by their side at the end edge of the dining table.

"Are we waiting for..." Emily had not finished what she was about to say, and Sandra was already digging into the potato salad. She couldn't wait.

Emily shook her head. "I waited for you, and you couldn't wait for your dad?"

"I don't think we can wait for him. He always takes his time. Just eat." Sandra said and started eating like a hungry chicken.

Emily couldn't help herself and started eating as well. As they were eating, Emily noticed a movement at the edge of her vision.

Vincent walked into the dining area, and both ladies looked up. He sat and sniffed twice without saying anything.

He went ahead and served himself a bit of everything, then took his first bite of the potato salad. He froze for a couple of seconds before taking another bite. Emily noticed his reaction and kept quiet.

He swallowed and let out a small breath. “Wow.”

Sandra twirled her head towards him. “What is that?"

He looked down at his plate, then back up. “This is excellent.”

Sandra smiled. “Which one? The chicken or the potato salad?”

"The potato salad, of course," he replied. “It’s… very delicious. Who prepared it?”

Sandra turned slowly toward Emily. “I knew it.”

Emily smiled shyly, and Vincent looked up at her. "You are the one that prepared this?"

“Yes, sir,” Emily replied, and he nodded appreciatively. “Wow, it’s so sweet. The person who taught you how to cook did a great job. I can eat this morning, afternoon, and night.”

Sandra crossed her arms and frowned. “You never compliment my cooking like this.”

Her dad laughed. “That’s not true. You cook well too, and I always compliment you."

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, but not like this.”

"Don't be jealous, my sweet angel. Cook more than her next time, and I will compliment you more."

Sandra smiled. "I will try." Then she continued eating.

Vincent ate with clear enjoyment, occasionally nodding to himself. Emily tried to focus on her food, but she felt the urge to look up at Vincent. She wanted to watch how he eats the food she prepared.

When she finally looked up, she caught Vincent already staring at her. She quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in her plate of food.