CSI Texas

Chapter Ten

Victoria and Samantha made their way into the kitchen, their footsteps a gentle rhythm on the tiled floor, echoing softly in the stillness of the evening. The house, still carrying the faint scent of new paint and packing tape, felt more alive now with their presence, the hum of the refrigerator and the rustle of grocery bags grounding them in a sense of domesticity.
Victoria shrugged off her sweatshirt which she had in the car and draped it neatly over the back of a chair. The simple act made the space feel a little more like home. As she began unpacking the groceries, she passed items to Samantha, who eagerly opened each bag like it was part of a game. They moved in an easy dance around one another, wordlessly falling into a rhythm that was both new and deeply familiar.
“This is nice,” Victoria murmured to herself, placing a carton of eggs into the fridge. A fragile sense of warmth bloomed in her chest. It wasn’t perfection, but it was something they could build on.
“Can we make pizza for dinner?” Samantha asked suddenly, holding up a bag of pizza dough with both hands, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Absolutely,” Victoria replied, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile. “Let’s do it together.”
She turned her attention to the slab of marinated meat meant for tomorrow’s dinner, taking a moment to unwrap it and place it on a cutting board. With practiced ease, she began slicing it into manageable portions, the knife gliding smoothly through the tender cut. She retrieved the roasting pan from a lower cabinet and set it on the counter, turning the oven dial to preheat. The soft clicks and mechanical whir of the heating element were oddly comforting. As she sprinkled the meat with salt, cracked pepper, and a generous pinch of dried rosemary and thyme, the air began to carry the warm, earthy aroma of the spices. “We’ll have fries and a fresh salad to go with it,” she called over her shoulder, watching as Samantha rooted through a cabinet in search of the pizza tray.
“I’m gonna go change real quick!” Samantha chirped, dashing off before Victoria could answer.
Victoria chuckled to herself and shook her head, brushing her hands on a kitchen towel before wiping down the counter. A few minutes later, Samantha returned, now in a pair of soft, fuzzy blue pajamas with cartoon sheep dancing across them. Her damp hair was a delightful mess from her earlier swim, sticking out in odd directions, and her cheeks were flushed pink from the shower steam.
“I’m ready!” she declared, arms outstretched in a show of enthusiasm.
They began their mini cooking session in tandem — Victoria ladling sauce over the dough while Samantha spread it with the back of a spoon, pushing it toward the edges with quiet concentration. Cheese was sprinkled with gusto, bits falling onto the counter, and Victoria let out a soft laugh when Samantha added a few uneven slices of pepperoni with all the precision of a master chef.
The kitchen glowed under the warm overhead lights. The oven buzzed softly as it worked, and their chatter filled the space between bursts of laughter. They talked about the pool, about how different Texas was from their old life, about what the new school might be like.
When the pizza finally came out of the oven, golden and bubbling, it smelled like comfort — like late-night sleepovers, like family, like childhood.
They ate at the table, barefoot and relaxed, legs curled under them on the chairs. Samantha savored every bite, humming with satisfaction.
Afterwards, she let out a long, exaggerated yawn, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m going to bed, Mom,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Victoria replied, leaning in to brush a strand of hair off her daughter’s forehead and kiss her softly on the temple.
She watched Samantha shuffle down the hallway, the faint sound of her bedroom door clicking closed settling like a hush over the house.

Victoria stood for a moment, just breathing in the quiet. Then, almost without thinking, she moved to clear the table. The ceramic plates clinked softly as she stacked them, and she wiped down the counter with smooth, circular motions. There was a gentle satisfaction in it —the simple act of restoring order, of caring for the space.
She placed the prepared meat into the fridge, tucking it carefully into a container and double-checking the temperature. Everything was ready for tomorrow.
A glance at the clock made her pause—11:47 p.m. How did the evening slip away so fast?
She dimmed the kitchen light, leaving just a small light lamp on, over the sink. The house felt still and grounded.
In her bedroom, she changed into a soft cotton nightshirt and brushed her teeth by the glow of the bathroom light. The mirror reflected her tired but thoughtful face. She applied a touch of lip balm and pulled her hair back into a loose braid before climbing into bed.
She set her alarm for 7:00 a.m., the bright digits glowing red on the nightstand. A flutter of anticipation stirred in her chest. Tomorrow was Samantha’s first step into her new school — and Victoria’s first chance to see how this new life would really unfold. She made a mental checklist: lunch to pack, route to scout, papers to sign. She also thought about asking Alan whether her shifts could be adjusted if needed. The idea of leaning on him felt vulnerable — but also necessary, for Samantha’s sake. Victoria turned off the lamp and lay in the darkness, the sheets cool against her skin. Thoughts swirled, overlapping with hopes and quiet fears, until finally her breathing slowed, and the day surrendered to sleep.

The alarm blared far too early, slicing through the hush of morning with merciless insistence.
Victoria groaned, rolling onto her side and fumbling for the snooze button. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten, casting a steel-blue hue through the curtains. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms with a soft groan.
She slipped on her cozy slippers and padded to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to chase away the fog of sleep. After brushing her teeth and running a comb through her hair, she pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft, long-sleeved blue top that complemented her eyes and clung gently to her frame. A delicate chain necklace completed the look — simple, clean, maternal.
Feeling more awake, she padded down the hall to Samantha’s room and gently knocked on the door.
“Good morning, Sammy,” she said softly as she pushed it open.
Samantha groaned from beneath a pile of blankets, the tip of her nose just barely peeking out. “Already, Mom?”
“Yes, already,” Victoria replied, her tone light with practiced cheer. “We’ve got school paperwork to do. Come on, up you get.”
With a dramatic sigh and a slow-motion flop onto her side, Samantha finally emerged. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” she mumbled, blinking like a sleepy kitten.
They shared a quick breakfast — toast with butter, a few slices of fruit, and a glass of juice. Samantha’s hair was still a bit wild, but Victoria managed to tame it into a loose ponytail with a quick flick of the brush.
By the time they left the house, the sun had begun to rise in earnest, painting soft gold across the tops of the houses and casting long shadows along the quiet street. The air was brisk but promising, filled with the smell of dew on grass and distant hints of morning coffee from nearby homes.
They drove in silence, each lost in their own thoughts —Victoria replaying her mental checklist, Samantha gazing out the window with a mix of nerves and curiosity.