Chapter Five
Myrtle had a somewhat adversarial relationship with her collection of cookbooks. They took up gobs of space in her small kitchen and looked appropriately food-doused and brown with age...it looked like a serious collection of books for a serious cook. But Myrtle blamed these books for the intermittent culinary disasters that plagued her. The directions in the books were obviously unclear or even out-and-out wrong. With some trepidation, she pulled out the books and started leafing through them.
The recipes were fairly unimaginative. There were tons of chicken and broccolis, chicken and rice, meat loafs, and beef casseroles. Joan was sure to get at least ten casseroles and Lucas just as many. Maybe a soup? Soup could be lunch as well as supper, and Myrtle could make it in her
