"I don't know what that is," I responded.
"It's a bit like quiche," she said. "But with Swedish cheese. It's delicious. I'd lie and say I made it myself, but it came from the bakery down the road. The same with the cardamom buns. I can't claim credit. Now the overnight oats? Those I can say I made."
"I love overnight oats, so I guess that's my choice."
"Then I can truly claim to have made you breakfast." Hel headed over to the fridge and pulled it open, taking out a small glass layered with oats.
"I feel like I'm at a fancy hotel," I said as I took a seat at her breakfast bar. It was as pristine and ordered as the rest of the house. What did this woman do for a living?
She chuckled. "I aim to please."
"You certainly did last night."
"Oh, I know." Her lips quirked up into a satisfied smile. "Coffee?"
I shook my head. "I'm a herbal tea kind of woman."
"I can do that too." She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a wooden box, pushing it towards me. "Take your pick."
I undid the latch and looked inside, finding dozens of individually wrapped tea bags in all kinds of different flavours. "Why do you have so many?"
"Sometimes I like to have one myself, but not all that often. They stay fresher if they're individually sealed."
I picked out a bag of chamomile and she took it from me, dropping it into a mug and adding some hot water.
"So, last night was fun," I said as I picked up a spoon and dug it into the creamy oats.
"It was," Hel responded as she put a mug down in front of me and grabbed her own, along with what I assumed was one of the cardamom buns given the smell coming from it.
"This is good," I said as I ate more of the overnight oats.
"Thanks. Lots of practice." She tore a piece of her pastry away and popped it into her mouth.
"Are you a chef?"
She laughed. "Definitely not. But that's verging dangerously close to personal conversation."
"All right, no talking about jobs," I said.
"Did you message your cousin to assure her you were okay this morning?"
"Not yet," I responded. "I should have done that first thing."
She shrugged. "If she's not going to be worried, then I suppose it doesn't matter as much. But I don't want her to think I've kidnapped you or something."
"If you were going to do that, wouldn't you just wait until after I'd sent the message so she thinks I disappeared on my way home?" I asked as I ate more of my oats.
"Seems like a lot of work. It's hard not to get to know someone if you've kidnapped them."
I raised an eyebrow. "Spoken from experience?"
A light laugh escaped from her. "Hardly. But I have an...interesting family."
"I hope to never meet them."
"I doubt you will," she said. "Though I suppose that depends how much time you spend at The Pomegranate."
"Last night was my first time," I said. "I wouldn't have gotten in if it weren't for my cousin. She's dating someone who knows someone in management there. At least, I think that's how she got us tickets."
