Page 102 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
Finally, I reach the back door to the main house. I peer in through the glass and don’t see anyone. They must all still be asleep. I can see the blue bowl on the counter right where Kenna said it would be. Easy-peasy, in and out.
Quietly, I unlatch the slider and let myself in, tiptoeing across the room in stealth mode. My hand is just inches from the bowl when I hear a little, squeaky voice.
“Who are you?”
Uh-oh.
A moment later, I hear dog claws skittering across the tile, and then my leg is getting humped by a small bundle of fur wearing a tutu.Do not drop-kick the kid’s dog.
I reach down and peel the dog off my ankle as I answer the child, peeking around the back of a tufted wingback chair. She’s holding a Cinderella doll in one fist and a Mermaid doll in the other.
“Oh hey, Orly. It’s just me, Lorelei,” I say.
“I Lee Lee,” she says, narrowing her judgey, little toddler eyes at me. “And you Lie!”
“I am not lying,” I defend myself, walking over and squatting down beside her chair. “It’s really me, Lorelei. Do you want to see my driver’s license?” I pat my pocket, feeling for my wallet.
“No, I hungee. You make me faycooks.” Orly pokes me in the chest with a surprisingly bony finger. I take a moment to recover from the assault and to translate what she is saying. I think it is, “I am hungry. Will you make me … pancakes?”
“Can you repeat that request?” I ask, eyeing the blue bowl. So close. Yet so far.
“Silly Lie! Poncooks!” Orly looks dubious. Am I going to have to make pancakes for this kid now? Isn’t there anyone else here whose job it is to make pancakes for this child
I hear footsteps shuffling in. “Oh,” Naomi says, looking me up and down. “It’syou.I guess you’re back?”
“I’m not the one who just got in from LA,” I say. So much for Kenna warming her up for me. She’s obviously still not my biggest fan.
“Is Rafe up yet?” Naomi asks.Good question.
“I dunno,” I shrug. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning. What time did you guys get in from California?”
“Late,” she says, taking out the coffee press.
I stand up and retrieve a bottle of alkaline water from the refrigerator.
“Me so hunger.” Orly shakes a princess doll over the back of the chair, making her talk like Cookie Monster. I have to admit, it’s a little cute.
“Oh Lorelei, I almost forgot, but you were going to show me how to make the fairy pancakes Orly loves before I go, right?” Naomi hits the coffee grinder, pulverizing some beans. The sound makes me flinch.
“Right, I was,” I nod. “But now that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t share the recipe. It’s a family secret.” I edge closer to the counter. I can see my keys in the bowl.
“Really? I asked your mom about them the other day, and she told me that she never made anything like that.”
“Weird,” I say, swigging my water and considering my options for getting out of the kitchen.Why hadn’t I just waited for Rafe to wake up and bring me the keys?
And then Rafe walks in. He’s got circles under his eyes and bags. Actual bags. Like a normal human being.
When he sees me, his eyes light up for a fraction of a second, like a kid seeing his dream bike under the Christmas tree. But then something clicks, and he recognizes it’s the real me, and it’s like all his hopes and dreams have been dashed.Ialmost feel like crying.
“Oh hey, you’re here,” he observes in a monotone voice.
“Yes, I am,” I nod, stiffly edging closer to the keys in the bowl on the counter. “But I was just about to get going. Talk later?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lorelei,” Naomi says. “You have to have breakfast with us. Today is my last day. I’m going back to Toronto tomorrow.”
“Hungee!” Orly shakes another princess and does the voice again. Less cute, more possessed toddler this time.
“I’m sure Lorelei has better things to do.” Rafe lowers himself slowly into a barstool. I’ve never seen him look more like a little, old man. His eyes are downright melancholy.
