My aunt bit her lip. “Oh Amir, I don’t think I can—”

“A home-cooked dinner, including soup, a main dish, and one of Grandma Flor’s fantastic desserts.” He held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Amazingly, it was my grandmother who responded. “You drive a hard bargain, young man. I like you.” She shook his hand. “I expect everyone here at our house for dinner tonight at six. Now come on, we have a lot of work to do.”

* * *

? ? ?

We all attacked the place with vigor, only taking a brief break for lunch, which the aunties provided. After we ate, everyone went back to cleaning except for Bernadette and me, since I needed to take her to work. As I gathered my things, I noticed I had five missed calls and a bunch of texts. Mostly from Terrence.

“Oh, sugar,” I said.

“‘Sugar’?” Bernadette raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, you know what it’s like if you swear around Tita Rosie.” I grabbed my stuff and hustled out to the car. “Let’s make this quick. I was supposed to meet Terrence for lunch but forgot about it after all this mess.”

As I eased the car onto the icy road, I figured now was the time to pump my cousin for information. After all, we were alone, so we didn’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping. Plus I could play the sympathy card since she saw how messed up Tita Rosie was about the restaurant.

I cleared my throat. “Speaking of Terrence, how’s Janet doing?”

Bernadette twisted her lips, as if chewing on the words before deciding to speak them. “She seems responsive, so I think she’ll be OK. The doctors are cautiously optimistic.”

“That’s great! I really wanted to see her, but they wouldn’t let me. Do you think you could get me in?”

This time her lips thinned. She knew exactly what she wanted to say. “No, it’s still family only. Besides, she’s in a coma. There’s nothing you can get from her.”

My grip tightened on the wheel as the truth of that hit me. Why did I want to get in and see her so badly? What did I think I could accomplish?

“You feel guilty,” Bernadette said, as if reading my thoughts.

I kept my eyes on the road.

“Look, Lila, from what I hear, she contacted you, right? She was the one who was trying to blackmail or negotiate or Lord knows what with her supposed info. She’s a grown woman and she knew what she was doing.”

Oh my gulay, was Bernadette actually trying to comfort me?

She must’ve read my expression because she said, “Don’t get it twisted. You’re still pretentious and full of yourself. But you’re not like, a bad person or anything. And you are not the reason Janet’s in a hospital bed. So stop pitying yourself and figure out who put her there.”

I pulled in front of the hospital. Before exiting the car, she left one last barb. “Get over yourself, Lila. Tita Rosie needs you. She’s needed you for a long time.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

I thought about swinging by Adeena and Amir’s place to go over what just happened, but Bernadette’s remarks about my aunt played over and over in my head. She’d spent her entire life taking care of people, and it was my job now to pick up the slack. After all, wasn’t that why I had come home?

Well, one of the reasons, anyway.

I called my aunt’s cell to see where she was. “Hey, Tita Rosie. Are you still at the restaurant?”

“Oh hi, anak. No, I dropped off Marcus at work and now I’m at the grocery store picking up a few things for dinner. Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m OK. Just make sure to have at least one vegetarian option for Adeena, please. Oh, and no pork dishes since the Awans can’t eat it.”

She chuckled. “You act like this is the first time I’ve cooked for them. I’m not your lola, I remember these things.”

I laughed, too. My grandmother, old school to the core, wasn’t very sensitive or receptive when it came to people’s dietary restrictions. I’d had to swoop in more than once when I knew she was pushing a dish on a customer that they couldn’t or wouldn’t eat. I should’ve known my aunt would understand.

“Thanks, Tita. I’ll call Lola and ask if she needs a ride, then come home to tidy up a bit. You just focus on the cooking, OK?”

After we hung up, I called my grandmother. I figured she’d still be at the restaurant, so might as well play the filial granddaughter and offer her a ride. I lucked out—when she answered, she informed me she was already at home, which meant I didn’t have to endure a car ride with just the two of us.

“OK Lola, I’m heading home to help clean. Tita Rosie should be back from the store soon, but do you need me to pick anything up?”

“No, just come home and start cleaning. This place is filthy!”

My grandmother’s idea of “filthy” was the same as Marie Kondo’s idea of “impeccably clean,” but I hurried home anyway. I knew better than to question her.

* * *

? ? ?

An hour later, the house was gleaming, my grandmother’s desserts were cooling on the counter, and the house was blessedly quiet since she wanted to nap before dinner. My aunt had called earlier to say she had another errand to run and was going to be back late.

So the kitchen was all mine, just the way I liked it.

My lola had made a few jars of her specialty, matamis na bao, or coconut jam, to spread on our pandesal and kakanin. The fragrant smell of coconut cream, caramelized sugar, and pandan leaves wafted through the room, the intoxicating aroma of the dark, sticky jam making my mouth water.

I scanned the contents of the fridge, waiting for inspiration to strike. Whatever I made had to be small and snack-y, so as to complement but not draw attention from my grandmother’s sweet, sticky rice cakes.

Maybe some kind of cookie to go with our after-dinner tea and coffee? Coco jam sandwiched between shortbread would be great, but sandwich cookies were a little heavier and more fiddly than what I was looking for. Maybe if they were open-faced?

As I thought of a way to make that work, my eyes fell on the pandan extract in the cabinet and everything clicked into place. Pandan thumbprint cookies with a dollop of coconut jam! Pandan and coconut were commonly used together, plus the buttery and lightly floral flavor of the cookies would balance well against the rich, intense sweetness of the jam.

I had just removed the butter from the fridge when I heard the front door open and someone stomping in the hallway.

“Tita Rosie, is that you?”

“Lila, come help me with these bags!” was the response to my question.

I hurried out into the hall to bring the grocery bags into the kitchen while my aunt went back to her car for one more load. From the looks of things, she’d bought enough food to feed the entire neighborhood, let alone the dozen or so people expected to show up tonight. Her greatest nightmare was holding a party and not having enough food for everyone.

The horror.

After putting all the perishable items away into their respective compartments, I started washing and peeling the vegetables my aunt planned to use. “So what’s on the menu?”

“Amir said he wanted soup and there’s snow in the forecast, so I thought sopas would be a good starter since it’s his favorite.”

The creamy chicken soup with macaroni noodles was pure comfort in a bowl, yet light enough to leave room for more courses. Great choice, but . . .

“No soup for Adeena?”

“I’ve been experimenting with meat substitutes, and I actually found a great replacement for chicken. I also have some vegetable stock in the freezer. You won’t even notice the difference. Just don’t tell your lola, ha?”

Whoa, I knew she was conscientious, but I had no idea she was spending this much time making sure my best friend had something to eat. “Thank you, Tita. That’s very thoughtful of you, and I’m sure we’ll all love it. Everything you make is fantastic.”

My aunt smiled and continued with her menu. “I’m also making lumpiang togue, adobong tokwa, pinakbet, and monggo guisado.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Perfect.”

My aunt was kind and loving and nurturing, but she had no head for finance. Her love of feeding and entertaining people usually rang up one heck of a grocery bill, but tonight’s menu was not only delicious, it was downright frugal and vegetarian to boot.

The egg rolls were time-consuming to make, but the bean sprout filling was cheap and tasty. Besides, a party just isn’t a party without lumpia. Fried tofu braised with soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and peppercorns wouldn’t exactly break the bank, and neither would the bitter melon and vegetable stir-fry. The mung bean stew was traditionally made with pork and topped with chicharon, but knowing Tita Rosie, she’d use some kind of pork substitute and leave the pork rinds on the side.

As I prepped the veggies for the stir-fry, she got started on the bean sprout filling. It needed plenty of time to cool, or else the spring roll wrappers would get soggy before we even fried them.