Free Montana Hearts by Charlotte Carter

son.” He sliced off a leg and thigh, put it on a plate and passed it to the boy.
    Beth looked at the bird on the platter with obvious reservations. “Nana and mom always made fried chicken.”
    â€œYes, your grandmother mentioned that when she dropped by yesterday. I thought you might like roastedchicken for a change of pace.” A much healthier choice than fried, in her view.
    Sarah asked for a slice of white meat, and Beth did the same, leaving Kurt with the second drumstick.
    â€œHelp yourselves to the stuffing and casserole,” Sarah said. “But be careful. That dish is hot.”
    Toby peered at the casserole. “This stuff looks like…” With a questioning expression, he looked up at his father.
    â€œTry it, son. You might like it.”
    Toby put a teaspoonful of the zucchini-mushroom mixture on his plate, then shoved the dish toward his sister.
    She wrinkled her nose. “It smells funny.”
    Pulling the dish closer, Kurt ladled a large serving onto his plate. “Looks good to me.” He forked a bite into his mouth. “Hmm, tastes good, too. What is it?”
    The burning sensation in Sarah’s stomach cooled. “Zucchini and mushrooms in a light cream sauce.”
    â€œThis stuff on top tastes like cheese.” He swirled his fork above the serving on his plate. “Eat up, kids. You’ll like it.” He dug in again, then reached for the stuffing.
    Sarah felt like she’d just passed some massive gourmet cooking test at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and smiled in relief.
    The children’s reaction wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as Kurt’s, but they did eat some of everything. Without Kurt’s endorsement, Sarah was sure dinner would have been a complete flop. Kids were so reluctant to try something new.
    Accepting her into the family, albeit temporarily, seemed particularly difficult for Beth.
    â€œBeth, do you know how your mother made her fried chicken?” Sarah asked.
    â€œNot really. Just flour and stuff.”
    â€œTell you what,” Sarah proposed. “If you’ll get the recipe and directions from your grandmother, next time we have chicken, you and I can try to make it like your mother did.” One small piece of fried chicken wouldn’t hurt her, and establishing a better connection with Beth would be a positive step.
    Beth cocked her head to the side. “You think we could?”
    â€œI think we can try.”
    Staring at Sarah for a long moment, Beth finally shrugged. “Okay. I’ll call Nana later.”
    Quietly, Sarah exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Maybe sharing recipes with her grandmother would help ease some of the tension between them.
    The apple pie for dessert was a hit with everyone.
    As the others were eating their pie, Sarah said, “Toby, I understand you’ve been working on your ventriloquist talents.”
    â€œYou mean he’s been admiring himself in the mirror all day,” Beth chided.
    â€œThat’s how you learn, dweeb,” Toby countered.
    â€œSo how’s it going?” Sarah asked, hoping to avert a spat between the siblings.
    The boy’s forehead furrowed, lowering his brows. “I think I’ve got it pretty good.” Concentrating, he repeated the vowel sounds she’d asked him to practice.
    â€œExcellent!” Sarah gave him a thumbs-up.
    â€œThat’s easy. I can do it without spending half the daypracticing.” Beth recited the vowel sounds controlling her lips about as well as Toby had.
    â€œHey, my kids have talent.” Clapping his hands, Kurt laughed. “Maybe we can get you two on TV as a ventriloquist duo and you’ll make a bundle of dough.”
    Beth rolled her eyes, and Sarah repressed a smile. Not a bad idea for the family to perform together. Maybe at church socials…
    â€œHave you been practicing, Kurt? You could make it a trio,” Sarah suggested.
    A horrified look crossed his