“Let’s see if we can find something to eat,” Norris suggested. “The microwave won't work, but the stove is gas.”
From the way he said“find something to eat,”as if he meant to strap on a backpack and snowshoes and go hunt down a wild boar, her previous suspicion became a certainty. “You don't cook, do you?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “Unless you count ramen. What about you?”
“I can cook a few things other than ramen.” She held her hand, fingers outspread. “About five.” Then, mentally adding them up, she folded her thumb into her palm. “Or four.”
They made their way into the kitchen by the light of their phones. She took a quick peek in the refrigerator, which was mostly bare, and removed a dozen eggs and a bottle of wine before quickly shutting it to keep the cold in.
Norris picked up the egg carton. “I don’t remember buying those. My scrambled eggs are styrofoam and my fried ones are hockey pucks.”
“Absent-minded professor,” she replied with a laugh. “You probably meant to make marinated eggs for ramen.”
“Oh, right. That must be it.”
She began hunting through the cupboards. “Ramen. More ramen.” She opened another cupboard. “Good to know you have ramen.”
“I also have pop-tarts.” Norris held up a box of frosted brown sugar and another of blueberry with sprinkles. “But the toaster’s electric.”
“Boo. I guess if we’re starving, we could eat them raw.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that. Hmm.” He found a package of rice, then read the directions. “Never mind. It’s microwave only.
She knelt on the floor to shine her phone into a low cupboard beside the refrigerator. The cupboard contained a basket of Yukon gold potatoes, a basket of onions, a jar of apple sauce, and a jug of frying oil. “Jackpot!”
Norris crouched beside her to look. “Huh. I don’t remember any of that being there. It’s definitely I’d have bought.”
“Will the sharks care if you eat their potatoes?”
“They said I could help myself to any food I found. It’s weird, though. I could have sworn that cupboard was empty.”
“Maybe Santa left it for you. After he parked his flying reindeer.” Annabeth couldn’t believe she was voluntarily making Christmas jokes, but in this dark kitchen, alone with Norris, they seemed normal and funny rather than emotionally fraught.
Norris gave her a startled glance, then smiled. “Potatoes and onions. It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“More like a Hanukkah miracle,” Annabeth said as she started moving the contents of the cupboard on to the counter. “This plus the eggs is everything you need to make latkes, plus apple sauce to eat them with.” Then she laughed, realizing. “Oh! Itisfor Hanukkah. The shark family must celebrate it and keep their supplies here. Funny there’s no menorah, though.”
“Maybe they took it with them. They’ll be gone for the holidays, remember.”
“Oh, right. That must be it.”
Like her Santa joke, the Hanukkah discussion was unexpectedly easy. It was an amusing little mystery with a rational explanation, like the reindeer and sleigh tracks they’d found in the park, rather than a depressing reminder of past holiday trauma.
“Oh, hey. Look what I found.” Norris shone his phone on a drawer full of little clay deepas, plus matches and a bottle of oil.
“HanukkahandDiwali? I’ve never known a family other than mine that celebrates both festivals of lights.” The odd coincidence didn’t bring back any bad memories, but instead made her smile. Her family and some shark shifters she’d never met had something in common, like they were brothers and sisters under the skin. Nowthatwas what holidays ought to be like: warm memories and unexpected connections.
“Shall we light them?” Norris asked.
“Absolutely. It’ll be lovely.”
He lit the deepas and placed them around the house. The little flames burned brightly, casting a warm and welcoming light. As he lit up the house, she located a potato grater and began peeling and shredding the potatoes.
He came back into the kitchen and glanced over her shoulder. “Youaremaking latkes! Or are those hash browns?”
“No, they’re latkes. I can’t just ignore a Hanukkah miracle. And they’re by far the tastiest of the food options. Unless you’d rather have ramen and cold pop tarts.”
“No, thanks!” He stood beside her at the counter and helped her shred potatoes and chop onions.
