Jenna and I shared a look of bafflement, our thoughts following a similar vein.
Linda was her own little person. I could see elements of her mother in her. Traits from her grandma and grandpa as well. Then there was this whole other side that made me wonder where it came from.
While Jenna had aways been part of the more popular crowd in school, unlike me who’d been content to float around the edges, she’d also been a bit of a pushover. Linda sounded more like someone willing to throw down for a fight.
Maybe that was my influence. Or maybe it came from her father. A man whose name no one knew—except Jenna.
Either way, it was a joy to see the person she was becoming.
By the time our food arrived, Linda had moved on to describing her summer plans which involved an outdoor adventure I was pretty sure hadn’t been run by her mom.
“Here we are.” The waitress set a plate down in front of Linda. “One blueberry stack with extra powdered sugar.”
Linda licked her lips at the sight of the three kid size pancakes stacked on top of each other.
The waitress set the next plate in front of Jenna. “One lemon ricotta pancake; hold the sugar.”
Jenna smiled in thanks.
“And a farmer’s special for the gentleman.” The waitress winked at my dad as she gave him his plate before setting the remaining mountain of pancakes in front of Connor. “And last but not least, the triple deck cinnamon burst pancakes for the other gentleman.”
Triple the size of Linda’s stack, it looked like there were enough pancakes on Connor’s plate to feed the whole table.
“Wow,” Linda breathed in amazement, eyeing Connor’s pancakes with envy.
“Focus on your own plate, Miss,” Jenna warned.
“But—”
“Eat your pancakes.”
Linda’s sigh was way more world weary than any seven-year-old had the right to be. With a shrug, she dug into her pancakes, the first bite making her forget she’d ever coveted Connor’s.
While Jenna and my dad picked up their forks, Connor studied his stack with an intensity reserved for the strange and unusual.
I pretended to sip at my coffee as I eyed his sugary goodness, wanting nothing more than to take it off his hands. Cinnamon. Yum. I loved cinnamon. I loved pancakes too.
Why couldn’t I have been bitten by a werewolf instead of a vampire? At least then I could enjoy all the food I wanted. Instead, I got blood. Yummy blood, but still.
“Regret not ordering?” Jenna quirked an eyebrow at me.
I slumped into my seat, not bothering to pretend. She’d know anyways.
“She can’t.” Connor poked a pancake with a fork. “She’s on a specialized diet for her health.”
That caught the adults’ attention. Jenna and Dad paused in their meal, focusing on Connor.
Jenna sent a quick look at Dad, a silent communication taking place between them in the space of a heartbeat.
Dad lifted his mug to take a sip of his coffee, allowing Jenna to take the lead. There was a vigilance in the way he eyed Connor and me over the rim of his cup that said he cared more about what was being said than he was letting on. We had his full attention.
“Is this about the illness you mentioned when Linda was in the hospital?” Jenna asked, trying and failing to feign nonchalance. The slow and deliberate way she cut her pancakes was what gave her away. Like my dad, she was wholly absorbed in the conversation even while being careful not to appear too eager.
I sent Connor a sidelong look, blaming him for this. As long as we didn’t bring up the subject, they’d been content to pretend it wasn’t there.
That no longer applied.
Connor didn’t notice my disgruntlement, carefully watching the way Jenna was cutting her pancakes before following suit.
