Ben had brought home a packet of crisps, two kinds of sauce and an idea that Mara didn't like.
“We don't need the extra flowers,” he said.
Mara was squeezing sauce into three little bowls. She stopped at the second one.
“They're not extra. They're the flowers.”
“The little ones on the tables.”
“Where else would they go?”
He put the packet down, took a bowl out of her hand and finished squeezing. Tess was at the far side of the table peeling sticky labels off small glass jars. Tuesday supper had turned into another wedding evening, but there were potatoes in the oven and Ben's jacket hung from the same chair as her cardigan. She could stay until the glue was gone.
“We could use what we did yesterday,” Tess said. “With the green bits.”
Mara gave her a look.
“Less green bits,” Tess added.
“Yes,” Ben said. “That.”
“It dropped on your plate before we even ate.” Mara scraped a dribble from the bottle into the bowl. “I want people to sit down and think it's lovely. That's all.”
Ben leaned back against the counter. “I know. I want that too. But it's one afternoon.”
“It's our wedding.”
He looked at her, then bent to take the potatoes out. Tess peeled a label slowly, trying not to rip it. Mara and Ben weren't shouting. They seldom did. Somehow that made it harder to know whether Tess should help or pretend she was only there for supper.
Ben set the tray down. He put the smallest potato on Mara's plate, then saw her face and changed it for the biggest.
“Can we at least look at what the other bits cost?” he asked. “The flowers, the extra drinks. I'm not saying no to everything.”
“You've said no to two things.”
“Both of them today,” he said, and attempted a smile.
Mara didn't return it. Tess pressed a damp thumb over a patch of glue.
“I don't want to use up the money we put aside,” Ben said. “Not all of it. Something will break the second we spend it. That's what happens.”
Mara reached across him for the butter. “Then we'll eat this and look afterward.”
He nodded. He pulled out her chair, but she had already gone around the other side of the table. The chair scraped loudly. He left it where it was and sat down himself.
Tess shifted the jars to make room for her plate. She hated this part of being the person who was always welcome. Welcome could mean seeing things she didn't know how to stop seeing.
“Are these for the sauce test?” she asked, pointing at the crisps.
Mara's face changed. “Yes. We have to decide.”
“I bought the plain ones,” Ben said. “Because if you get a strong flavour you can't—”
“You explained this in the shop,” Mara said.
“You weren't in the shop.”
“You explained it on the phone from the shop.”
Mara reached for his hand under the table. Tess saw it because she was putting a jar on the floor. When she sat up again, Ben had moved his chair closer to Mara's.
They ate for a while. The potatoes were too hot in the middle. Tess opened hers all the way and flattened it with her fork. Ben copied her.
“I've got the new hours confirmed,” he said. “From next month.”
“Good,” Mara said.
“Straight days. No late shifts unless I choose to cover.”
He said it casually, but Tess knew how long he had been waiting for an answer. He had talked about it over two previous suppers, weighing the steadier hours against the extra money he could have made elsewhere.
“So you'll actually get to eat here,” Tess said.
“That's the idea.” He put his fork down. “And be home later on. With a child, I mean. I'd rather get used to it now than change everything at once.”
Mara nodded, chewing.
“We'll need to clear out the little room eventually,” he said. “Not now. There's no rush.”
Tess pictured the spare room with its leaning tower of wedding boxes and the exercise bike that held the clean washing. She couldn't picture a cot in there without first moving almost everything.
“You could start by taking the clothes off the bike,” she said.
Ben looked at Mara. “Most of those are hers.”
“The red towel is yours.”
“That's one thing.”
Mara nudged his ankle with her foot. His shoulders relaxed.
“We're still thinking the first two years, though?” he asked her. “After we get married?”
“Yes,” Mara said. “We are.”
“Just so I can tell work I'm keeping this arrangement. They asked.”
“Yes, Ben.” She touched his wrist. “It's good. I'm glad you've done it.”
He picked up his fork again.
Mara watched him for a moment, then pushed the sauce bowls into the middle.
“Right. Close your eyes.”
“I've got food in my mouth.”
“You can still close them.”
Tess obeyed. She heard Mara's chair scrape and felt a fingertip tap the back of her hand.
“Open your mouth.”
“You aren't putting a whole crisp in.”
“Half.”
It was nearly a whole one. Tess bit down too early, and a piece broke onto her shirt. She opened her eyes and found Ben looking at her with his mouth still open, waiting. Mara was trying to finish Tess's turn before his.
“What's it meant to taste of?” Tess asked.
“You tell me.”
“Orange?”
“No.”
“Well, that's what it tastes of.”
Ben finally received his half crisp. He chewed with solemn care, reached for the bowl and had another. Mara caught his fingers.
“You don't get to choose before you've had the others.”
“I'm not choosing. I'm checking.”
Mara pulled the bowl toward herself. Ben reached past her and dipped a broken crisp into it. She laughed and tried to knock it out of his hand; he caught her wrist with his free one. For a second they were occupied entirely with each other, smiling over three cheap bowls of sauce.
Tess picked the crumbs off her shirt.
She wanted that. Not this particular kitchen or a wedding in eleven days. She wanted somebody beside her who knew she would steal the sauce and moved it closer anyway.
Her phone stayed silent in her bag. She had answered Cal that morning. I'm good. Helping Mara get married. Hope the move went okay. He had sent back a thumbs-up and It did. Thanks.
There hadn't been another question.
After supper Mara fetched the seating plan. Tess went back to the jars, but Mara put the sheet in front of her.
“Can you be at the door with me? Before I come in, I mean. Help me with the back of the dress and make sure I've got everything?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can walk down ahead of me. Just you. If that's all right.”
Tess looked at the narrow aisle Mara had drawn between the rows of chairs. She could see herself in the dress she'd ordered, carrying a small bunch of flowers, with everybody turned toward her. No hand at her elbow. No one waiting at the end who was waiting specifically for her.
“Yes,” she said. “I can do that.”
Mara put her cheek against Tess's temple. “Thank you. I wanted to ask properly.”
Tess smiled and leaned into her for a second.
“And the chair beside you at supper,” Mara said. “Can we move it? I need a place for one of Ben's guests.”
“You mean my extra place?”
“I kept it there in case you wanted to bring anyone. But I need to give them the numbers tomorrow.”
Tess looked across at Ben. He had opened a jar and was soaking it in the sink. He wasn't listening particularly. This wasn't a test. Mara hadn't asked whether she was lonely. She was asking about a chair.
“Yes,” Tess said. “Use it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don't need two dinners.”
Mara squeezed her shoulder. Then she crossed out the empty space with a pencil and wrote another name there.
Tess went back to the last label. It tore down the middle. She kept rubbing long after the paper was gone.