“There’s not a damned thing wrong with the Wedgwood,” Teddy sniffed, passing Kit a cup and then preparing his own.
“Mother thinks it looks tatty in front of guests,” Kit said.
I was still coming to terms with theskeleton staff. Midsized companies had a skeleton staff over the holidays.
And apparently, so did Kit’s family.
“It’s solid British craftsmanship and it was more than good enough for my grandfather,” Teddy said, sipping his own tea. “Now, Andy, you seem like a man of taste. Can I tempt you to accept a Penguin?”
I looked to Kit with wide eyes.
“It’s a chocolate biscuit,” he said, which was a relief. I was getting to the point where I was a little afraid an actual live penguin might waddle in while Kit explained his dad kept them as pets.
That was the kind of weird thing rich British people did, wasn’t it?
“Cookie,” I corrected out of habit.
“No,” Kit said. “It’s only a cookie if it’s round and has chocolate chips in it. He would very much like one, I think.”
Kit was still kneeling on the floor in front of me, and I was suddenly conscious of having a member of the nobility on their knees. Even if he was my best friend and pretending to be my boyfriend.
His dad handed me a red and yellow wrapper with the wordPenguinon it in big blue letters, with two little cartoon penguins.
“Thank you,” I said after a moment.
This was familiar, at least. Not the cookie itself, but junk food that came in colorful wrappers was something I could handle.
“You should be honored,” Kit said, finally getting up and pulling another armchair over to sit by me. “He doesn’t share his stash with just anyone.”
“I imagine I can trust Andy not to tell your mother I have them,” Teddy said. “He looks a trustworthy sort.”
“He’s very trustworthy,” Kit said, accepting a Penguin from his dad as well and holding it like a little kid with a forbidden treat. “I haven’t seen one of these in so long.”
I sipped my tea gingerly, afraid I’d hate it and wouldn’t be able to hide it, but all I could really taste was the milk and honey.
Okay. That just left the Penguin.
“Hold on,” Kit’s dad said as I went to tear open the wrapper. “You have to read the joke first.”
I looked at Kit again, completely lost now. What joke?
“There’s a penguin joke on the flap of the wrapper,” Kit said, showing me on his. “Household tradition states that you have to read it out before you eat it.”
“But only if you want to,” Kit’s dad added, apologetic. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
“I’ll read it,” I said. Teddy had been so kind to me already, and he was clearly trying to include me.
This was all weird and uncomfortable, but he knew that, and he was trying to make it better.
The least I could do was go along with it. I was a guest in this ridiculous house.
I smoothed out the flap on the wrapper and cleared my throat.
“Why was the penguin’s head so cold?” I read, squinting at the tiny letters.
“I don’t know,” Kit’s dad said with a grin. “Whywasthe penguin’s head so cold?”
I lifted the flap to find out and couldn’t stop a groan escaping. “Oh my god. Because he was wearing an ice cap.”
