Page 37 of Unexpected Pickle
We bake cookies and make custard and show each other up with sauces and glaze right up until the nutritionist returns with more meat for us to learn to prepare without adding fat and calories.
But the dishes all make me think of Hex. Fight prep. Glycogen stores.
He hasn’t come back. Did he leave the retreat?
I already know the afternoon lessons well, so I sneak to the lobby and sit down to text Max.
Me: I’m worried about Hex.
I wait a few minutes, not sure if my international plan is even working, or if Max is available. He might be struggling with the crew without me there.
But then my phone buzzes.
Max: Not what I expected from you. What’s going on?
Me: He’s out of his element. He left the class.
Max: Want me to ping him?
I hesitate. He’s made it easy for me. I can have Max cheer up his friend, maybe convince him to come on home.
I stare out the windows at the heavy fall of snow. Only the heated sidewalks are clear.
What do I want?
Hex came for me. Chef Moreau wants to forge an alliance with me.
Me. Jeannie Young.
The cabins look like a small winter village. Snow piles around the trees and drifts up against the walls. The lamps are on even though it’s afternoon. There is no activity in the lobby. I wonder if the chefs are the only ones here.
I need to answer Max.
Me: No. I’ll check on him.
I head to the front desk. A lone woman sits there, swiveling back and forth on a tall stool. She stands when I head her way.
“Can I help you?”
“Which cabin is Hex in?”
A sly grin comes on her face. “That’s a very popular question around here.”
“I bet. I’m in the far one. Which is his?”
She scrunches her nose. “I can’t give that information out.”
“Really?”
“Privacy.”
“But we’re friends.” I guess we are, anyway.
“Yeah, he’s had several ‘friends,’ two ‘girlfriends,’ and even a ‘wife’ ask about him.”
“I see.”
“I can ring his room.”
