Page 86 of My Merry Mistake
Bella’s eyes widen. “Wow.” Then, she looks at me. “Well done.” She grins, like she’s just slid two puzzle pieces together.
If Raya wants to correct her, she doesn’t.
“Poppy will be so happy you’re here,” Bella says. “But you might have to wait a little bit. I’d move you to the front of the line, but there’s nowhere to put you.”
Raya looks around. “Should we come back for lunch?”
Bella shakes her head. “It’ll be the same at lunch. Poppy’s kind of freaking out. She thought it would be slow today, and she didn’t call in a third cook.”
Raya turns to me. “By the time we’re seated, our meal won’t befunanymore.”
“Do you think we could help in the kitchen?” I ask, ignoring her sarcasm and flashing Bella my most charming smile.
“I think I’ll lose my job if I let you back there,” Bella says.
“Ah, we’ll just go say hi,” I say with a nonchalant wave.
“We’ll be in the way,” Raya says.
“I’ve worked in kitchens,” I tell her. “You said you live close so you can jump in when your family needs you, right?” I look around. “Seems like your sister could use the help.”
She presses her lips together, uncharacteristically unsure, but she must not be able to think of a reason to object because a few seconds later, we’re walking back to the kitchen while Bella pretends not to notice.
I slowly push the kitchen door open and see what can only be described as chaos.
“Holy. Cow!” Raya says.
Poppy looks up from the griddle, her eyes widening, almost like she needs a second to place us. “What are you guys doing here?” She looks at me. “Together?”
“Came to help.” I pull off my hoodie, hang it on a hook by the back door, grab an apron, and turn my baseball cap around. “Put us to work.”
Poppy flips a pancake and lets out an amused laugh, but then she looks at me and seems to realize she’s drowning and I’m holding out the life preserver. “Have you worked in a kitchen before?”
“Yes,” I say, though even if I hadn’t, my family’s big enough to need a short-order cook.
Her eyes jump from me to her sister and back. “Fine. Wash your hands.” She looks at Raya. “You can sit right there, because I knowyouhaven’t worked in a kitchen. Plus, shouldn’t you be home? Resting?” She nods to a stool nearby, and Raya sits.
“If I do any more resting, you’ll have to order me a headstone,” she says, irritated.
“Well, I’m glad you took the day off,” Poppy says. “Shocked, but glad.”
I catch Raya’s sheepish expression and realize she hasn’t told her family about her leave. I dry my hands and tuck the towel into the belt of my apron.
Poppy looks at me. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”
“My hockey team in high school hosted a pancake breakfast fundraiser every year.”
“All that tells me is that you’ve been around people who made pancakes,” Poppy says.
“Flour, eggs, salt, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, oil, and buttermilk,” I rattle off, spinning the spatula on my palm and catching it. “Just tell me if you want them fluffy orultra-fluffy.”
Poppy’s eyebrows go up, and I grin.
I turn to give Raya a wink, and she props her chin on her fist and watches, amused.
“Okay.” Poppy pushes a bowl of batter into my gut. “Get on pancakes.” She rushes off.
I look at Raya. “I guess bossiness runs in your family.”
