Free Burning Down the Spouse by Dakota Cassidy Page A

never mind a whole body all skin and bones like you are. We must fix the skeeny.”
    Taking hold of Frankie’s hand, she led her to the back of the kitchen, lined with ovens and an enormous grill, to a small space adjacent to the long stretch of steel countertop used for prepping. She patted a lone red vinyl stool. “Sit.”
    As though she instinctively knew Frankie was going to refuse her invitation, Voula raised one raven eyebrow flecked with gray, daring her to decline. Frankie’s lips clamped shut. “I said no mouth about it. Everyone eats to start the day right with Voula. It gives the brain energy and the body gas.”
    “Fuel, Mama. It gives her body fuel,” Cosmos interjected with an indulgent chuckle, planting a kiss on his mother’s cheek.
    Voula waved her pudgy hands at him. “Fuel, gas, make no difference. Still the same. You fill up the body with both.” She pulled a plate from beneath the warming lights used to keep customer orders hot prior to being served, and plunked it in front of Frankie. “I make this just for you, because Nikos said you are too skeeny. We have much to chop today. You need your strength.”
    Frankie’s face flushed at the notion Nikos thought anything of her. Yet, she still planned an uprising. As Voula went off in search of what Frankie figured was silverware, Cosmos leaned into her with a crafty smile. “I wouldn’t even consider telling her no. If you’re totally opposed, make nice and I’ll cover for you while you dump it, but telling her no is like poking her in the heart with a hot pitchfork. You would not believe the drama that woman can generate over the word ‘no.’ It’s not in the Greek vocabulary when it comes to food.”
    Voula brought her silverware, placing the fork in Frankie’s hand. “You eat. Now. I’ll get coffee to put some color in your cheeks.”
    Frankie instantly sat. She might be reluctant, but she wasn’t brain dead, and the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her Aunt Gail, who’d cooed with delight about Nikos and his diner. Lifting the flaky crust, she almost smiled. The pastry was cooked to perfection, filled with gooey feta cheese, eggs, and spinach. Finding herself appreciative of the visual effect of the dish, she placed a piece in her mouth.
    Wow. Had she ever underestimated a good meal all these months. The melt-in-her-mouth goodness, the combination of salty cheese and mellow eggs hit her stomach with a euphoric sigh of bliss.
    Voula put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smelled of pastry and spices mixed with floral perfume. Her scent made Frankie’s eyes sting with more unwanted tears. “It’s good, right?”
    “It’s delicious. Thank you,” Frankie said around another mouthful, hoping to avoid any more “skeeny” conversations.
    “Hah! I bet all those pretty television food people you know don’t know my spanakopita.”
    Frankie’s stomach sank.
    Further sinkage occurred when a now familiar voice boomed, “Mama! What did I tell you?”
    Voula yanked the striped towel from her shoulder and swiped playfully at the dark Adonis, er, Nikos. “I think about this last night before I go to bed, Nikos. Frankie isn’t a stupid girl. We don’t come from the old country where there is no electricity. We have a TV. We saw what happened. If I was her and your papa was Mitch, that dirty, old man would lose more than his pride on the television. He would have lost his olives.”
    Frankie snorted before a cough erupted from her throat. Cosmos passed her a cold glass of water she downed in two gulps. Though, it didn’t help the flame of her cheeks or the tingle of her scalp as Nikos leaned over her to pinch his mother’s plump cheek. “Mama, that’s not the point. Sometimes, even when you mean well, you dump salt in an open wound with your kindness.”
    Voula brushed a stray piece of hair back into its nest and made a face. “Bah! You don’t put salt in a wound. You put peroxide. It makes everything