That might be accurate, but that didn’t give Sloane an excuse to add to it.
Darcy:Send him proof of life and start showing up at your job or I’ll go after the credit card next
Sloane later sent Darcy a photo of the day’s paper and an upraised finger, but Teagan was so relieved that Darcy didn’t mind.
That Saturday they met Sloane for brunch in Brooklyn. The people crowding into the backyard patio where little wrought-iron tables were hidden among potted apple trees and loops of fairy lights were of a different tribe still from the ones Darcy had become familiar with over her weeks in Manhattan: thick of facial hair, strange of hat. Darcy, clad in cutoffs, hiking boots, and a T-shirt she’d bought used in a Jinhae street market, thought she might look more at home than Teagan in his chinos.
Sloane, who’d arrived half an hour late and still wearing pajamas, communicated mostly in grunts as they were finally seated. She wore very large sunglasses despite the shade, puffy face suggesting that the previous evening had not ended too long before.
A young waiter with an unfortunate mustache came by to take their orders. He had a variety of irreverent tattoos climbing his arms and neck, but his white, straight teeth said that he was waiting tables as a lifestyle choice on the way to some subsidized career in the arts.
Darcy waved at Teagan and Sloane to go first as she browsed the menu without much hope. Teagan had been excited about this place, even though it had taken them almost an hour to travel here.
“Tell us about the eggs,” Teagan said to the waiter, glancing at Darcy out of the corner of his eye.
The waiter puffed up his narrow chest with pride, and Darcy sensed that he anxiously awaited opportunities to talk about the food in detail.
“All of our eggs come from a family farm in the Berkshires that raises heritage breed chickens on open pasture with nothing but organic feed,” the waiter said. “The eggs are rich with omega-3 fatty acids and beta carotene and lower in cholesterol and saturated fat than commercial eggs. The farm supports local agriculture and social justice by training historically underrepresented farming groups in animal husbandry. All of the chicken waste is composted and reused in the experimental paw paw orchard on site. Paw paws are a native fruit, you know. You should try the paw paw smoothie. It’s fantastic.”
Teagan, who had been closely following the description of the wonders of the farm, passed his phone to Darcy.
“This is the farm’s website,” he said.
Darcy flicked through a montage of fat brown chickens gamely roaming through verdant green fields. The chickens looked reasonably happy, and there were no cages in evidence.
“Okay,” Darcy said, encouraged. There was a big list of egg dishes down one side of the menu. Maybe she’d be able to eat something.
Teagan cracked a small, hopeful smile.
“What do you cook the eggs in?” Darcy followed up.
“Organic butter, from the same farm,” the waiter replied. “The cattle are American milking devons, and—”
“Do you have margarine?” Darcy asked.
The waiter looked horrified down to the roots of his undercut. “Oh no,” he said. “Everything here is natural. The chef only uses whole ingredients.”
Teagan’s smile faded. Darcy closed the menu. The waiter’s face fell.
“I’ll have the fruit plate,” Darcy said. “And black coffee.”
“I’ll have the same,” Teagan sighed.
Sloane made a disgusted noise, looking between them. “I’llhave the corned beef hash, two eggs over hard, the blueberry Icelandic yogurt parfait, and a vac-pot of Kona coffee,” she announced. “And the bottomless mimosas.”
“Sloane,” Teagan said, looking concerned at that last item.
“Teagan,” she replied.
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Teagan said, not taking the bait. “It’s ten o’clock.”
“It’s Saturday.Brunch. And you made me come all the way down to Prospect Heights. I can have mimosas at brunch. I’m twenty-two.”
“Please don’t order bottomless mimosas in front of your alcoholic brother,” Darcy said.
“I’m sure Teagan can handle it if I have some mimosas at brunch,” Sloane said, scowling.
“I’m more concerned about you—”
