My aunt"s cooking was always good, and tonight was no exception.
“Complements to the chef!” Uncle Ed said as he patted his lips with a napkin.
“Thank you, Uncle Ed,” my aunt said.
“Now I"m glad I was able to make it,” Weeks said. “I wouldn"t have missed it for the world.”
“No purple cows here,” I muttered to Uncle Ed, while my aunt and Weeks were engaged in that conversation.
He leaned to me with a sly smile. “No.”
The only thing that kept the meal from making us a tad too warm to enjoy was the central air. The savory flavors of the tomato sauce, cheeses and eggplant made me forget about the heat and humidity outside, and all other little—or big—problems.
Weeks and Uncle Ed were behaving themselves. In other words, they only asked to pass something, like the butter or bread back and
