Ruby arrived Saturday carrying a kitchen timer, while Jake brought antacid plus the donated pot he still considered his. I had chosen lemon chicken, roasted vegetables, plus rice after checking Nina's dislikes and my current ability. The grocery receipt rested beside the ingredients like a financial warning today.
"Total budget?" Ruby asked, washing her hands before she inspected the counter.
"Seventy-two credits," I replied, showing the receipt where I had separated reusable seasoning from date-specific food.
"Reasonable," she said, returning it without praising basic arithmetic.
"The antacid cost six," Jake added, placing the packet near his chair while he remained safely outside the cooking area.
"Charge it to cowardice," I replied, beginning with the vegetables because their timing allowed mistakes.
