Page 40 of Pickled
14
PIPER
My kitchen lookedlike a flour bomb had exploded. Olive’s pigtails were dusted in white, and I probably looked like I’d gone prematurely gray. Despite the mixer malfunction, we’d triumphed, and our stack of pancakes stood tall, teetering on a plate as bacon sizzled in the pan.
“Mom, you look like Mrs. Claus,” Olive giggled.
I picked up a knife and checked out my reflection. “What do you think? Should I go white?” I smoothed my hair.
“It’s not too far from your hair color now.” Olive pointed to her head.“I look like a skunk!”
I grabbed her and sniffed her neck. “But you smell like cookies. Yum.” I scooped her into my arms and pretended to take a bite out of her neck.
“Do you think that’s enough?” I pointed to the stack of pancakes with the spatula.
“Maybe for me.” Olive crawled onto the tall barstool and pulled the platter of pancakes in front of her.
“Sweetheart, if you can eat all of those, go for it.”
Growing up, my mom never would’ve made pancakes—too many carbs. When Olive poured half the bottle of syrup on her pancakes, I squeezed her shoulder. “That’s going to give you a lot of energy.”
“I know.” She nodded. “Can we go to the splash pad today?”
“You bet. Anything you want, kiddo. We could go to the beach, hit the splash pad, go to the mall…” I stabbed three pancakes and added them to my plate next to the sliced melons.
“Splash pad!” She grinned and bopped up and down on the stool.
“You got it, kiddo.” I hated the splash pad but knew there would be a day in the future when Olive would choose to go to the mall with her friends. It wasn’t far off, and I knew when it happened, I’d find myself wishing for the days of dancing around in the jets of chlorine-soaked water.
“Anywhere but the hockey game.” Her voice was low.
I paused with my fork midair. “You don’t like hockey?”
“Ewww. Boys.” She scrunched her face, and then a serious look took over. “Mom, why did the handsome neighbor leave you tickets?”
Shehadbeen listening.
I panicked. What did I tell her? Taking a deep breath, I decided to tell her the truth. “Remember the night Pussy was missing and I spent all that time looking for her?”
“Yeah?” Olive stuffed way too many pieces of pancake into her mouth.
“Well, the neighbor helped me look for her. He’s a nice man who plays hockey.”
She tilted her head, chewing on my answer and the pancakes. “But why did he give you hockey tickets?”
To say I was stumped was an understatement. WhyhadGideon left me the tickets? “I’m not sure, sweetie.” It was the truth. “Maybe he had some extra lying around and didn’t know who else to give them to.”
“That’s probably why.” She kicked her feet, adding to the scuff marks on the side of the island. They were going to take some elbow grease to scrub off if we ever moved out. “Unless he thinks you’re cute and wants you to be his girlfriend. That’s the reason Tommy asked Ariana to go to his lacrosse game.”
Where had my five-year-old gone? I was not ready for this kind of comment coming out of her sweet mouth. Was it a mistake letting her hang out with Ariana? What other twelve-year-old girl things was she learning?
“Oh, really?” I kept my tone even. “What did Ariana say to… Tommy?”
“She said she’d rather go to her pickleball lesson than watch a boy throw around a ball.”
Phew. I relaxed, mentally returning Ariana’s name to the good-influence list. “Well, I think Ariana is onto something. Let’s get ready for the splash pad.”
“What about this mess?” Olive pointed to the kitchen.
