A/N: I've played with this chapter so many times that I've lost count. Though I'm still not sure that it's just right, I've decided to call it close enough. Due to this uncertain state, any constructive criticism will be much appreciated.

There was a knock on the door. She managed to wheeze out, "Come in."

"Hoshi, what is so funny?" Her laughter must've echoed all over the house, and her mother was standing in the doorway looking amused. It reminded Hoshi of when she was a teenager and her mother came in to scold her and her friends for staying up too late talking at a slumber party. It was a little late to be laughing like a hyena, though the thought hadn't occurred to her before. That was probably what brought her mother to the doorway.

"I got a letter from T'Pol. She and Trip are at his parents' house."

"I didn't think Vulcans were into humor."

"T'Pol's no ordinary Vulcan, Mom."

"I know, but still..."

"Anyway, she wasn't trying to be funny." Just thinking about it made her start laughing all over again.

"Enjoy yourself, Hoshi, but remember that some of us think when the stars are out it's time for bed."

"Right, Mom. Sorry."

She read the letter over again, laughing to herself.

Hoshi,

     I am pleased to know that you are enjoying your home leave. Charles and I are enjoying ours as well. His parents are extremely hospitable, and though they do not understand me, they have accepted me as their son's wife, welcomed me into their family, and done whatever they felt necessary to "make me feel at home." Often I am uncertain of what is expected of me, but the Tuckers are remarkably adaptable people. I regret to say that the media is not nearly as accommodating.

Last night we prepared dinner. Charles wanted to do this to express gratitude or his mother's meals. (I do not understand why he wished to do it after a short time at his parents' house, but never expressed a similar desire onboard Enterprise. Would Chef not also have enjoyed "a night off?") I tried in vain to convince him that we might express gratitude equally well in another manner. He is not a talented cook, and I am unskilled in human domestic arts. I could not acquire any ingredients to make a dish I am familiar with, as these are limited to a few small vendors near the Vulcan compound in San Francisco. He insisted that he had made "mac and cheese" many times without incident. "How much harder can a spaghetti dinner be?" he inquired.

As we were to find out, it can be significantly harder. It is fortunate that he agreed to use spaghetti sauce from a jar, because the meal would never have been served otherwise.

Charles was to make bread while I prepared a salad. He insisted that it is impossible to err in preparing a salad. I have learned from my experiences aboard Enterprise that "impossible" is a word that should be avoided. Charles learned this lesson tonight. When he set aside the dough so it could rise, he inquired as to my progress. I informed him that I was putting the croutons on top and would then be finished. He was very pleased, and came over to look.

He did not look as pleased as I had anticipated. "T'Pol," he asked, "ya did peel the onion, right?"

We discussed the need to peel onions and the need for him to inform me of such details for the next fifteen minutes as we removed the offensive peel from the salad.

Once the salad was free of onion peel, we began to make a fruit salad. As I attempt to learn from my errors, I was sure to remove all traces of peel from the two cantaloupes that I was to empty of seeds. Charles cut the other fruit while I did this. When I presented him with two peeled, halved, and seedless cantaloupes to put the fruit in, he informed me that peeling the cantaloupe was unnecessary.

The bread had been forgotten during this. A loud noise reminded us. I do not know how to describe the chaotic state of Mrs. Tucker's kitchen at that point. Small bits of dough covered a fourth of it. It seems that Charles has heard his mother, on multiple occasions, comment that most recipes instruct the cook to include excess salt. He did not know that yeast will grow unchecked without salt, producing gases that build up quickly. When I deduced that this was the probable cause, and he explained why he had neglected to include a sufficient amount of salt, he asked me how I knew that and did not know that onions have to be peeled. Is it not obvious that there are no onions on Vulcan?

After we cleaned the dough and begun to boil the pasta, Charles decided that the sauce was insufficiently seasoned. He wished to put more pepper in it, but the spice was not coming out of the shaker. When he flipped the device over to examine it, a copious amount of pepper spilled out. Apparently the pepper shaker his mother owned when he was a child was very different from the one she currently owns. To fix this error he added two more jars of sauce to the kettle. When his mother heard about this incident, as we had to explain why there was more sauce than spaghetti, she commented that it was surprising to her that an engineer could not properly use a pepper shaker. Charles' face turned a more pink hue that it is normally at that remark.

Dinner was ninety-three minutes late. Before we leave, we wish to give his parents another gesture of appreciation. I will chose the gesture.

Enjoy the remainder of your home leave. Charles sends his regards.

T'Pol

            Hoshi turned away from her computer to let a golden laugh escape out her window and into the night.