Every dish on the table was laced with finely minced ginger—so small you couldn't pick it out—and not a single scallion in sight.
Doreen stared at me, challenge glinting in her eyes.
"Adeline, I spent all afternoon on these dishes. You have to try everything."
Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but I caught his arm and leaned in close.
"It's New Year's Eve. Let's not hurt Doreen's feelings, hmm?"
His gaze softened instantly, turning toward Doreen with that familiar tenderness.
"Doreen, thank you for all your hard work today."
She smiled sweetly.
Kevin stuck to his drink, not touching a single dish. It wasn't until Delilah Simmons brought out a pot of chicken soup that he stirred it with his spoon, checked for ginger slices, and—finding none—downed three bowls in quick succession.
The food didn't appeal to me either. I barely lifted my chopsticks.
That's when Doreen slid a bowl of soup toward me.
"Adeline, this is free-range chicken soup. I simmered it for three hours. You have to try it."
Memories of my past life flashed through my mind. I declined, saying I didn't care for chicken.
Doreen's eyes instantly rimmed with red, as if I'd dealt her some devastating blow.
"Adeline, did I do something wrong? I made this soup especially for you."
Kevin shot me a look of displeasure.
"It's just soup. Would it kill you to take a sip? Do you really have to upset Doreen on New Year's Eve?"
His parents glared at me too.
"Doreen spent all afternoon cooking for you, and this is how you repay her?"
"This is free-range chicken—you city folks can't even get your hands on this. Don't be ungrateful."
I didn't want to argue. I took a few sips.
Triumph flickered in Doreen's eyes.
"Adeline, I ground the ginger into powder before adding it. Pretty good, isn't it?"
Before I could respond, Kevin gasped, pointing at the soup.
"You put ginger in this?"
Doreen nodded. "Kevin, the soup wouldn't taste right without ginger."
Kevin hurled his bowl across the room.
"Didn't Adeline tell you she's allergic to ginger? That you shouldn't add any?"
Doreen burst into tears.
"I didn't know! I thought she said she liked ginger! Besides, she's fine, isn't she?"
I was fine.
Kevin, on the other hand, was not.
He tried to say something else, but his hand flew to his chest and he collapsed.
Panic seized Doreen's face.
"Kevin! What's wrong?!"
I pressed my hand against the allergy medication in my pocket—the one I'd bought that afternoon—and forced urgency into my voice.
"His throat is swelling shut from the allergic reaction. Call an ambulance! If we wait too long, he'll suffocate!"
His parents scrambled to dial 911.
By the time the paramedics arrived, Kevin was barely breathing. He spent a full day and night in surgery before they finally wheeled him out. The surgeon let out a heavy sigh.
"The patient is severely allergic to ginger, and you let him consume that much of it? One more minute and we wouldn't have been able to save him."
The color drained from Doreen's face. She whipped toward me.
"Kevin is allergic to ginger—why didn't you say anything?!"
I blinked, the picture of innocence.
"I didn't? But I specifically told you not to add ginger. Kevin was right there. He heard me."
I turned to his parents.
"Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, you were both there too. I made it very clear—no ginger."
Delilah's gaze turned to ice as she rounded on Doreen.
"Doreen Whitney. My son was kind enough to invite you to spend New Year's with our family, and you nearly killed him. Adeline told you not to add ginger, and you ground it into powder and put it in anyway." Her voice dropped, cold and sharp. "Was this intentional?"
