“I guess we are a breakfast pastry and egg family, while I’m here.” Rachel laughed, but no one joined in.
One of the boys pushed pause on their show. The entire kitchen descended into awkward silence.
“Mom, where’s the milk?” Brady asked.
Rachel set the spatula beside the stove to go in search of the milk in the refrigerator. Then Kellan needed a refill, Evelyn asked for a glass, and, in the midst of it all, Rachel decided coffee was a very good idea—so she poured herself a cup.
“Are those burning?” Evelyn tilted her head toward Rachel’s smoking eggs.
Crap.
She hurried back to the stove.
“Not burned, just really well done.” Rachel tried to flip the eggs onto a plate, but they stuck to the nonstick coating that was, it turned out, not so nonstick after all.
Rachel stood, unable to form a sentence, spatula still in hand, staring at the smoke rising from the pan.
The eggs she’d been making for her kids to offset their sugar intake were totally wrecked.
She tossed them into the dog bowls, but even they gave her stink-eye about her breakfast offering.
“I guess it’s tarts for breakfast!” Evelyn bustled through the kitchen, grabbing the now-unnecessary spatula and dropping it in the sink. “We’ve got a new flavor we want everyone to try. It’s our first go at pumpkin spice.”
“How does she do that?” Rachel whispered to Travis.
“What?” he asked.
“Always get her way?”
“It’s her gift.” He shrugged.
“Did you know that most pumpkin products aren’t pumpkin at all?” Brady asked, reaching for the box and studying the label. “They’re really squash that’s dyed orange to look like pumpkin.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s just easier.”
“Pumpkin is gross,” Kellan said immediately. “I like eggs, though.”
Evelyn brushed him aside. “Eggs are fine for lunch. No one needs that kind of heavy for breakfast.” She pressed a kiss to Kellan’s temple, leaving a bright red lipstick print. “And don’t you worry, we added extra sweetener, so they’ll taste delicious.”
“More sugar?” Rachel asked, ready to grab the spatula and whack the box from her son’s hands.
“I’ll try the new flavor,” Brady announced, handing the box to Bob who handed it to Travis. “I like pumpkin pie.”
“Brady…” Rachel raised her eyebrows in his direction.
She’d been clear about her one-tart rule.
Brady whispered in response, “You said it’s rude not to try something when it’s offered to me.”
Yes, but that was before the dogs ate his burned breakfast.
Rachel made an attempt at the box breathing that April had showed her shortly before she hopped on the plane to Twin Lakes. In for four counts, hold for four counts, out for four counts, hold for four counts. Repeat.
She was on her third round before her blood pressure began to drop back to within a normal range.
“Evelyn and I are heading down to Confluence for the day,” Bob said. “We were thinking you and the boys might enjoy taking the scenic route with us.”
Um…Rachel had a call starting in thirty minutes and she expected it’d take a while. “That’s not possible.”
“We’ll bring the dogs, too,” Evelyn assured, as though that were the problem. She was filling the line of toasters on the countertop with pumpkin pie tarts.
