The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family by Sarah Kapit (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📗

hi, Lara-bear,” Dad said. He slid a dish into the oven and closed the door. “What brings you to these parts?”

“I’m making amends,” Lara informed him. She couldn’t think of how else to describe it.

“Ah.” He leaned up against the kitchen counter, eyebrows furrowed together. “Well, I appreciate the gesture.”

Dad started to wipe food-ish things off the counter. Lara supposed it was her turn to say something that was properly amends-worthy. If she could think of such a thing.

The oven hummed on in the background. Lara resisted the urge to peek inside. She picked up a wooden spoon that happened to be close by and began to twirl it—slowly at first, then more quickly. Finally, she willed herself to speak.

“I’m really sorry. I was really horrible at Rosh Hashanah. I shouldn’t have said all of those things about you. I didn’t mean them, honestly I didn’t.”

Her father squeezed her shoulder. “I love to hear that, Lara-bear. But I’m pretty sure you did mean it. Well, some of it, at least.”

Lara’s face heated. And she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of her closeness to the oven.

“That’s not true!” she insisted. “I don’t really think that you’re . . . those horrible things I said about you. I mean, you’re my dad.”

He nodded. “I know, honey. And I’m not saying that you think those things all the time. But I know I haven’t been the best dad the past few months, ever since I lost my job.”

Lara nearly dropped the spoon. She’d had this conversation in her head many times. So that she could plan out what to say. But never had any of those Dad-voices in her head admitted that he’d made mistakes.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who messed up sometimes. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay—so long as she could properly Make Amends.

“Obviously, the way you expressed your frustration wasn’t great,” Dad continued. “But I understand why you felt the way you did. And if you’re asking for my forgiveness, well, you’ve got it, Lara-bear.”

The bad feelings in Lara’s stomach disappeared at once. Who knew that asking for forgiveness could be so very easy? And it felt good too. Very, very good.

Still, surely she had to do something else. Something more. Right?

“Thank you,” Lara said. “So. What else do I need to do?”

Dad glanced at the oven timer, and then back at Lara. “Huh? I accepted your apology, hon. What else is there?”

Although Lara thought her meaning was obvious, she tried to find the right words. “I want to do something more than just say sorry. I want to show that I’m sorry. So that you know I mean it.”

“I know you mean it. There’s no need to go off on some mission to prove it. We’re good, you and me.”

Lara frowned. Now this was just too easy. Didn’t Dad know that she had, in fact, established a mission to Make Amends?

“Come on,” she pressed. “Isn’t there something—anything at all—I can do to make things up to you? I’m really trying to make amends here!”

For a while, Dad didn’t say anything. He continued wiping down the counter, even though it was already quite clean. “The garage,” he said after wipe number four.

“What about it?” In the Finkel household, the garage was a place where things went, collected dust, and most likely were never seen again. Even Ima had long since given up trying to make the place orderly.

“You can help clean the garage. Your sister is already doing it as part of her punishment. You want to make amends, you can help her out.”

Lara wanted to protest that she shouldn’t have to share in Caroline’s punishment. After all, she hadn’t been the one to prank one of her classmates. But she’d asked for a way to Make Amends and her dad had given it to her. She couldn’t very well complain now.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll help Caroline clean the garage. We’ll probably finish sometime within the next bajillion years if we really work hard at it.”

Dad chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

Despite the humongous task before her, Lara smiled.

“Can I ask you something else?” she said. Dad seemed like he was in a good mood, so she might as well get all of her awkward questions out.

“Sure thing.”

“Are you and Ima . . . okay?”

They definitely had seemed okay as of late. There hadn’t been any fights, and on several occasions Lara had caught her parents looking at each other with one of those weird, kind of uncomfortable lovey-dovey looks. But still. She wanted to know for sure.

“Your mother and I are fine. We had a rough patch, and we’re getting through it. That’s what families do.”

A wave of tension left Lara’s body. Until that very moment, she hadn’t fully realized that it had been there at all.

Just as Dad squeezed her shoulder once more, the oven let out a most obnoxious beep. Lara pressed her hands to her ears.

“That would be the spanakopita,” Dad said. “It’s done.”

Lara perked up at the mention of one of her favorite foods. “You’re making spanakopita? I thought you didn’t know how to do that.”

Her father grinned. “Well, that’s why I’m going to learn. I wanted to learn more of your mother’s family recipes. Plus, it’s good practice.”

“Practice for what?”

Dad opened the oven and carefully removed the tray. Lara’s eyes widened at the sight of the golden brown, perfectly flaky pastry. She was pretty sure this particular culinary experiment could be deemed a success.

“Practice for when I go to culinary school,” Dad said as he set down the dish. “I’m starting in a few months, you know.”

“You’re going to culinary school? I didn’t know that!”

This time, Dad’s smile took on a decided cheekiness. “Well, Lara, I know you want to be a detective. But, believe it or not, you don’t actually know everything.”

“Right,” Lara said, cheeks pink.

Well, perhaps not knowing things wasn’t always the worst thing in the world. Good surprises were, in fact, rather enjoyable.

She marched over to the stairwell and called for her sister. “Lina-Lin! Come down!