The English and their understatements.
Yeesh.
I kept flipping even after Battle put a plate full of food in front of me, one in front of him and seated himself beside me.
He then reached to the coffeepot to pour us both a cup.
Eventually, the bacon called to me, not to mention caffeine, and I set the sketchpad carefully away from anything that might mar it.
“You say you have that on digital?” I asked.
Prue gestured to the pads with her fork. “All of it.”
“Perfect,” I replied while spreading lime marmalade on my toast. “I can look through them and we can strategize which ones to send my agent.”
While I was saying this, Chassie roamed in sporting a pair of cute pajama bottoms with little pink and peach polka dots on them, a peach babydoll tee and a frizzy head of hair that was exponentially frizzier after sleeping on it.
I’d never seen someone come to the breakfast table at The Downs like it was what it was, the breakfast table of a family.
I loved it.
Especially coming from Chassie.
“Coffee, sweetheart?” Battle asked as Chassie roamed right up to the sideboard.
“Please,” she answered, lifting a lid and peering inside. “You need to teach Patsy how to make your pancakes, Vivi.”
“Whenever you want them, I can make them for you,” I replied.
“Or you could teach me how to make them,” she said while spooning scrambled eggs on her plate.
“I’d love that,” I returned.
Prue clapped. “And me. Teach me. I also want to learn how to make toast and oatmeal.”
“We’ll have some cooking lessons next Sunday when Emily is gone,” I decided.
“You’ll have them whenever you feel like you’re up for a break from your book,” Battle butted in. “You’re being lovely as usual, darling,” he purred to me. “But don’t let anything take away from your process.”
I’d warned him about my process since I was starting the book tomorrow, and I didn’t want him to be caught off guard by the obsessive nature of my work.
“What process?” Chassie asked, folding a leg under her as she took her seat by Battle and put her plate on the table.
“I get obsessive when I write,” I explained. “I usually write at home, so it’s going to be interesting, having a space just for writing that’s away from everything. But it’s good Battle brought it up, because you guys should know, I’ll probably hole up in the studio for long periods of time.”
“We don’t want to mess with your process, Vivi, so whatever you need,” Prue said.
“And don’t forget, just buzz to the house if you need anything,” Chassie added.
“Thanks, guys,” I replied. Then, “Listen, speaking of the book,” I turned to Prue, “when you were searching for Charlie’s letters, did you look in all the bedrooms?”
Prue was confused. “Bedrooms?”
“Like yours and Tempie’s…and Chassie’s?”
This was the way I decided to play it rather than share about what happened the evening before with the cats.
I was falling for their brother; I didn’t need to give them reasons to move me out of The Downs and into an asylum.
