Page 29 of Keepsake
Afew hours later, the alarm on Zach’s watch woke up both of us. Embarrassed, I played possum when I heard Zach sit up fast. “Whoa,” he muttered, making the sound of someone surprised to wake up on a bed not his own.
I held my breath, not moving a muscle until he was out of the room, and the door was shut on me again.
The night had been survived, but not easily. And now that morning had safely arrived, I was suddenly exhausted. I adjusted my pillow and fell back asleep for an unfortunately long time. When I next opened my eyes, the clock said ten minutes past eight.
Damn it!
I took the world’s speediest shower, then hustled over to the farmhouse to help with breakfast. “Sorry,” I gasped, running through the door.
The Shipley family was already furiously busy in the kitchen. Ruth stood scrambling a heap of eggs in a fourteen-inch skillet. Daphne flipped pancakes beside her, while Dylan forked bacon off a pan and onto a plate.
“I overslept. What can I do?”
Ruth looked up at me, her scrambling hand still doing its thing to the eggs. “You look tired, Lark. Is everything all right?”
You never can fool a mom, damn it. “Yep,” I answered quickly. “Shall I set the table?”
“Sure,” May answered, her hands full of coffee mugs. “Forks and napkins. And then carry out the bacon.”
“Roger that,” I agreed, diving for the silverware drawer.
It was only minutes later that the men began to tramp into the house. Griffin paused on his way to the washroom, squinting at me.
“What?” I demanded.
“Your T-shirt looks wrong, Wild Child. Thought you’d like to know.”
I looked down. Sure enough, it was on inside-out. If my goal was trying to convince my friends that I had my act together, this wasn’t the best display of proof.
“Can you pour the coffee, Lark? Here’s the milk,” Mrs. Shipley urged.
I took the pot into the dining room and began with Grandpa Shipley’s cup. “Much obliged, miss!” he said with a wink. May had told me that having a house full of farmhands always made her grandfather feel like a cowboy overseer.
Daphne did a slow loop around the table, too. In front of each man, she stopped to offer pancakes. I watched with amusement as she stopped in front of Zach, forked the biggest, most beautiful pancake onto his plate and then tossed her hair in an exaggerated way.
“Thank you,” Zach said, his eyes on his plate.
“Don’t mention it,” the girl said with a breathy voice. Then she lost her nerve and fled for the kitchen.
I caught May’s eye, and my friend rolled her eyes. Biting back a smile, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been just as horribly obvious with my crushes at eighteen. I’d probably been even worse.
“Coffee?” I offered Zach.
“Thanks.” He held out his cup.
“Sorry I’m still a bad roommate,” I said over his shoulder, my voice too low to be overheard.
“You dreamed about scratching on the eleven ball, didn’t you?” he whispered. “Admit it.”
“That was such a fluke,” I argued, filling his cup to the brim. “Next time you’ll get my A game.”
“Bring it.”
When the pilesof breakfast food had been eaten, we all sat a little longer over our cups of coffee, except for Zach, who was on his fourth pancake. Daphne kept bringing them, and he kept dispensing with them. The boy could seriously eat.
Dylan and Ruth were the first to leave, heading for church in Colebury. “Anyone need anything from town?” Ruth asked.
We waved her off, and after they left, May lifted her coffee mug and studied me from over its rim. I braced myself for more inquiries into my strange attire or the bags under my eyes. But she startled me with a different announcement. “I have to tell you that Gilman called the house last night after you’d gone to bed.”
