Tessa found the biggest bowl in the apartment for the batter. Then she tilted the strawberries out of their carton and onto a cutting board. No matter how hard she tried to cut the berries into uniform slices, the pieces were uneven. She wouldn’t win any presentation points tonight.
She found a measuring cup in a drawer and shoved it into the flour canister. Then she dumped flour into the bowl and followed it with baking powder. She dropped in two heaping tablespoons of salt, along with a dash of sugar. She gave the mixture a quick stir, and then she whisked the egg, milk, and vanilla in another bowl. After melting butter in the microwave, she poured the wet ingredients over the dry, added the butter, and stirred. The recipe said to fold in the cut strawberries. Tessa had no idea whatfoldingmeant, so she dropped in a few strawberries at a time and pushed batter over top of them. When she was finished, she surveyed the batter and said, “That wasn’t so bad.”
Tessa warmed a cast-iron skillet on the stove. She speared a pat of butter on a fork and circled it around on the hot skillet. As the butter bubbled, it began to smoke, so Tessa turned down the heat and opened the apartment windows. A cool spring breeze eased through the apartment, ruffling book pages and tickling the hairs on the back of Tessa’s neck.
Using an ice cream scoop, she dropped three uneven blobs of pancake batter onto the skillet. While popping and sizzling, the batter slid toward the middle, creating one gigantic blog. Tessa used a spatula to try and sever the batter into sections, but they kept reforming into one. When she thought the amorphous pancake was ready to be flipped, she slid the spatula beneath and tried to turn it over. The underside was too gooey, and batter flung all over the side of the skillet and splattered her shirt. She wiped the batter from her shirt and popped her fingers into her mouth. It tasted odd, but Tessa assumed that was because the batter was still raw.
She tried again to divide the pancake into thirds and was successful. Three lopsided pancakes sizzled in the skillet. She laid strips of bacon on a plate covered in paper towels and microwaved them. She poked the browned pancakes with her finger.
“See, Lily, I can cook.”
By the time the bacon was cooling, a dozen misshapen pancakes sat on a serving platter. Tessa grabbed syrup, butter, and the strawberry chamomile tea from the refrigerator and set the petite table for two. At half past seven, Lily knocked. When Tessa opened the door, Lily narrowed her eyes.
“It smells like you’ve been cooking.” Lily stepped into the apartment and dropped her purse on the couch. “Is it safe to come in here?”
“I made pancakes!” Tessa said, bouncing on her toes. “And bacon. And tea!”
Lily walked to the table and eyed the stack. “All by yourself? Should I be frightened?”
“I followed Mrs. Borelli’s recipes. I couldn’t possibly screw these up.”
Lily smirked. “Didn’t you say that about the meatloaf you made a couple of weeks ago?”
Tessa frowned. “I didn’t know there was a limit to how many breadcrumbs you could add. It looked pretty when I was mixing it. But itwasreally dry.”
“I almost choked on it. It lodged like a rock in my throat. And no one wants the Heimlich performed on them at a dinner party.” Lily sat at the table. “This allsmellsgood. Let’s see how it tastes.”
Tessa filled two glasses with the tea. She forked a few pancakes onto Lily’s plate and then a couple onto her own. They smeared butter on the stacks and doused the pancakes in syrup. Tessa doled out bacon slices, and Lily lifted one and took a bite.
Lily nodded and smiled. “Bacon’s good.” Then she cut into her pancake stack and stabbed the pieces with her fork. “Ready?”
Tessa nodded, and they both shoved pancakes into their mouths. Once the taste of syrup melted away, Tessa’s first instinct was to spit the food back onto the plate. Her tongue shriveled in her mouth as all the moisture was leeched. Lily’s blue eyes were bugging out. They both chewed as quickly as possible and struggled to swallow. Tessa grabbed her glass of tea and gulped it down. Lily drank her tea even faster.
“Why does it taste like I made them with sea water?” Tessa whined.
“Too much salt for sure,” Lily said. “You followed the recipe?”
“Yes,” Tessa said defensively. She snatched the recipe from the counter. “I added the flour and baking soda and—oh . . .”
“Oh what?” Lily asked. “Should I be calling the poison-control hotline?”
“I swapped the amount of salt with the amount of sugar.” Tessa slumped into her chair. “Why am I such a catastrophe?”
Lily chuckled and refilled her tea glass. “You’re not a catastrophe. Well, maybe a little in the kitchen. The bacon is good, and the tea is great.” Lily drank more tea. Then she yawned and covered her mouth.
Tessa exhaled. “It’s been a crappy couple of days. My condo is trashed. I was attacked by vampire bats and threatened by a flea-infested cat. I smell-tasted urine and moldy carpet—” She waved her hand in the air when Lily’s eyebrows rose into her blond curls. “Don’t ask. I had a disheartening conversation with Marty. And now I’ve ruined dinner. Wow, I’m also a huge whiner right now.”
Lily wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You know what will make it better?”
Tessa struggled to keep her spirits from plummeting. “What?”
Lily pointed toward the top of the refrigerator. “I see a box of Cap’n Crunch up there, and nothing makes a crappy day better than a big bowl or two of cereal.” She grabbed the cereal, bowls, spoons, napkins, and milk and motioned for Tessa to follow her into the living room. “Let’s watch something mindless on TV and eat cereal like we’re twelve.”
“Home-improvement shows?” Tessa suggested, following her and then plopping onto the couch.
Lily poured Tessa a heaping bowl of cereal, and a few Crunch Berries skittered across the coffee table. She reached out and popped them into her mouth. She passed Tessa the bowl and the milk before she prepped her own bowl. She settled onto the couch and yawned again.
“I must be sleepier than I thought.”
