Page 14 of Our Sadie

She waves a quick hand in front of her face as if batting away a mosquito.

“Yes, yes. So, I’ve heard. Breakfast isn’t ready, so you’ll have to wait. I’m not accustomed to people in the house being up yet.”

Only at that point do I spy a package of bacon and a dozen and a half eggs to go along with whatever she’s doing with that dough.

“Can I help?”

She goes all hands-on-hips. Or maybe I should say wrists because her actual hands are still dusted with flour.

“Are you applying for the position of sous chef?”

“Who, me?” I press a hand to my ribcage. “Hell no. But I can crack the eggs and provide you with some company.”

The lady shoots me a narrowed gaze with russet-colored eyes. “And did I request any such company?”

“Gotcha.” I know a rejection when I hear one, so I pivot around to return back the way I came. Her voice stops me.

“Never mind. Might as well make yourself useful. I’m Maxine.” I’ve gathered that much. “Now let’s see if you were being truthful about those eggs.”

The delightful Maxine and I spend the next half hour or so making the morning meal. Or to be more accurate, she orders me around and I obey her instructions like a teacher’s pet. But I enjoy being around her.

She’s not only the no-bullshit type, she’s patient when it comes to explaining what she’s doing. By the time the food’s ready for the table, I know how to use her special boiling pot to poach eggs plus have a rudimentary understanding of how to bake sourdough cinnamon rolls.

With thick dollops of sugary buttercream frosting over each.

As I’m helping her to bring all the dishes out, she clasps me on the shoulder briefly. I take that as her mark of approval.

The only person other than me who’s up is Jerome, though. I decide to play host as if I own the place.

“Hey Jerome, this is Maxine. Maxine, Jerome.”

“Good morning,” he greets her with that easy smile of his, while Maxine simply nods.

“Don’t mind her,” I whisper to him. “She’ll warm up once you get to know her.”

Jerome’s brows fly halfway up his forehead. “What, you two bosom buddies now?” Dom eases unhurriedly down the stairs behind us, yawning.

I snort. “Not quite. But... I don’t know. I like her.”

In reality, the lady sort of reminds me of Sadie. And speaking of the reason we’re all here...

While Dom seats himself at the table, Sadie descends the sweeping staircase one cautious step at a time, the way I might expect someone elderly to do it. Not that I can talk. Right after my knee surgeries, I hobbled around like I was fucking ninety.

I’d love to get into the nitty gritty about whatever she’s dealing with, not to be nosy, but to cast those burdens out into the open so they won’t fester. Maybe I can send her memes like I do my mom.

Sadie not only seems drowsy, her complexion’s a bit flushed. Still, that light brown hair of hers shines like gold as it cascades in front of her shoulders and down her back as if derived from precious metals. I know from her profile that Sadie and I are both twenty-two, but despite her lack of mobility, she seems younger than me in this particular instant.

Younger and more vulnerable than usual.

I can’t say why I’m compelled to do this, but I want to provide her with a pick-me-up. Even just a little one. Even if any smile she might deign to give me is a tiny one.

That’s why I take it upon myself to fill her plate for her, arranging the two cinnamon rolls as ears, two poached eggs as eyes, and the bacon as a meaty grin. It’s stupid. I know it is the second I’m through with my ridiculous creation. But I hand it over to her anyway, monitoring her like a hawk to measure her reaction.

When her only change in expression is to purse her lips in what might be anything from confusion to consternation, I figure I’ve lost this round. But then, she peers over at me, her head tilted quizzically.

“Pattern recognition implies that this is supposed to be a face.”

“A smiley face,” I confirm with my own smile, ignoring whatever that science-y sounding gobbledygook was at the beginning.

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