“I think that’s a great idea, Kennedy,” Raegan says. “Maybe theywill answer some questions for you. Like why your spirit chose to come back to Shadow Hills.”
She’s right. It’s probably the biggest question I have, and I trust Simone.
A young man, about college-aged, approaches our table and asks what we want to eat.I think Irecognize him, but he keeps his head down the entire timehe’swriting down our orders.
“Do you have blueberries?” I ask him hopefully.
“Umm. Let me ask my mom.”
He shuffles away, sticking the notepad with our orders in his back pocket.
“That’s Kiki’s son, Brendon,” Joanna tells me. “He works for me at the farm part time. I thought he was done with the cafe, but he must have changed his mind.”
“He doesn’t seem to like his job very much,” Raegan suggests.
Joanna purses her lips. “I thinkit’sjust being around his family so much that annoys him. I mean, I get along with mymom great—she’smy best friend—but I know youwouldn’twant to have to see your mom at work if you were living with her too.”
Raegan bristles. “Birdie? Absolutely not.”
“She’s not that bad,” Simone interjects. “She’s old school, for sure, but she means well.”
“Yes, but you have magic, Simone. She likes you.”
There’ssome unspoken understanding between these women, and I sense it has something to do withRaegannot being part of the coven. Butit’snone of my business.
The girls start chatting about plans for a winter carnival, but I zone out. Being here with them almost feels normal. I could easily become a regular member of this friend group, but what will happen fifty years from now whenI’mstill one day shy of turning thirty andthey’reknitting in the nursing home? I guessit’sno different than anything else in life. Things change, but I never will.
Ican’thelp but sit with that daunting thought as Brendon comes back to the table. Idon’trealizehe’stalking to me until Simone taps my knee.
“Sorry?” I look up and find the guy blinking at me.
“Wedon’thave any blueberries. Our fresh fruit gets delivered on Sundays, andwe’reall out until then.”
My heart sinks. I was really looking forward to having something from mypreviouslife—something to remind me what it was like being alive.
“That’s okay,” I tell him, secretly berating myself for getting my hopes up.
“We can do something else,” he suggests. “There’slike, all the unhealthy options. Just not the healthy ones.”
“Putting fruit in a pancake doesn’t make it healthy,” Joannasays.
“Yes, it does,” Raegan interjects. “It’s like having lettuce on your burger. It’s the essence that counts.”
Simone directs her question to the waiter. “Can I get some pepper and onion essence in my omelet?”
I suppress a laugh, and instantly the moodhas lightened.
“Just plain pancakes,please,” I say, and Brendon nods.
Joanna and Raeganagreeto split a large veggie hash bowl.After our food arrives, the other girlsimmediatelydig in. I, on the other hand,can’tstop staring at the enormous plate of buttery pancakesthat’sbeen placed in front of me. My mouth begins to water from the smell, butI’mtoo afraid to take a bite.
“Is it not what you ordered?” Joanna asks around a bite of potatoes smothered in cheese.
My breath hitches. “It’s perfect.”
A simple pancake breakfastshouldn’tmake me emotional, but part of me thoughtI’dnever be able to do simple things like this again. Eating a warm meal seemed like something a ghost would no longer be privyto, butI’mso gladthat’snot the case.
The girls are quiet, but theyseem to understandthe significance of the moment anddon’tinterrupt. I cut into a double layer of fluffy pancake andcarveout a small bite, raising it to my lips. Syrup drips from my fork and onto the plate as I place it in my mouth. I savor the sweetness on my tongue for as long as I can before swallowing. Theo was right: eating while in my physical body feels completely normal.
