The construction workers loved her food.
That was the first good news. Within a month, Grace's customers at the site had grown from twenty to Forty. She had bought a second big pot, then a third, and a large tray with a lid. She had a rhythm now. Up at three. Rice and stew by six. Food to the site by seven. Home by ten, and then straight to the market for the next day's ingredients.
But the work was brutal.
The charcoal burned her eyes. The smoke got into her chest, and she had begun to cough in the mornings. Her hands were rough from peeling and chopping, and her back hurt in a way no sleep could fix.
"Mama, let me help," Ella said one evening, pulling a stool beside her.
"You have homework."
"I did it already. Give me the onions."
So Ella learned to peel and slice, and Evelyn, with her small fingers, learned to pick the stones out of rice. They worked together on the doorstep while the sun went down, and sometimes Grace let them play a game: who could finish their bowl first. Ella always won. Evelyn always complained.
"This is not fair, I am small!"
"You are slow," Ella teased.
"I am thorough."
Grace, listening, nearly laughed at the word. Where had Evelyn learned that?
It was on one of those evenings that Mr. Bennett, the site supervisor, came to find her at the stove.
"Madam Grace, the engineers want to talk to you."
Her stomach dropped. Had somebody complained? Food poisoning? She followed him with her heart pounding to a small cabin where three men in hard hats sat around a table.
"Your food is very good," the oldest one said. "The lads say they have not eaten like this since they left their mothers' kitchens."
"Thank you, sir."
"We would like to make an arrangement. A regular supply. Lunch for the whole crew, one hundred and twenty plates a day, paid weekly. Can you do it?"
One hundred and twenty. Grace's mind raced. She would need another pot. A helper. More charcoal. More everything.
"Yes," she said. "I can."
She was lying. She had no idea how she would do it. But she had learned something in these last months. Sometimes opportunity did not wait for you to be ready.
"Good," the engineer said. "We start Monday."
She walked home on air. She would tell the girls tonight. She would buy extra meat. She would pay Madam Harper a little more than usual this Friday.
At the compound gate, she saw him.
Tall. Waiting by the water tap with his hands in his pockets, like he had never left.
Daniel.