She picked up her phone. Meg was still on the line.
“I heard everything,” Meg said. “I’ll have the campaign framework by Monday.”
“Thank you.”
“Anna.” A pause. “You’ve got this.”
“I hope so.”
Meg hung up. Anna texted Joey.
Family meeting done. Expanded hours starting Monday. Breakfast at seven, dinner until eight. We need you.
His response came fast.
I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS. But first does the breakfast service require a different napkin fold? Because I have thoughts.
Anna smiled at the phone, turned off the lights, and locked the door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stella sat on the kitchen counter with her camera in her lap and her feet tucked under her, watching her father hold a single egg over a pot of water. He’d been holding it for three minutes. The water simmered. A splash of vinegar floated on the surface—YouTube said vinegar helped the whites hold together, and Tyler had measured it twice.
“Just crack it,” Stella said.
“I’m visualizing.”
“You’ve been visualizing since the water boiled. The water’s not boiling anymore.”
Tyler adjusted the heat. The water went from simmer to something slightly more active. He cracked the egg against the rim of the pot and it dropped in sideways, the white immediately feathering out into pale ribbons that drifted in every direction.
“That’s not right,” he said.
“No.”
“It’s supposed to hold together.”
“It’s supposed to do a lot of things.” Stella raised the camera. Click. Tyler mid-crisis, egg dissolving. “That’s four.”
“I know it’s four.”
“Out of four.”
“I know.”
The first egg had hit the water like a grenade—yolk burst on impact, whites everywhere, Tyler staring at the pot like it had personally betrayed him. The second made it in intact but stuck to the bottom and had to be scraped off with a spatula, which defeated the purpose of poaching. The third was actually promising until Tyler tried to flip it with a slotted spoon and launched it onto the stove, where it slid behind the burner and disappeared.
“We should find that one,” Stella said.
“Later.”
“It’s going to smell.”
“Later, Stella.”
She pulled out her phone and texted Bea.
Egg four. Also a disaster. He’s not giving up though.
