“Tired, schmired. I’ve been napping for the last two weeks, and I slept the whole way home in those lay-flat business seats we used our miles for. If I wanna bake a cake, I’m gonna bake a cake!”
“Fine,” I say. “But, in that case, you’d better make it a double. There’s someone I need you both to meet.”
lorelei
I’m notsure where I am for a moment when I wake up, alone in my bed at the guesthouse. The “phsssssst” of my ultrasonic mister and my preferred, high-thread-count, sateen sheets no longer feels familiar. It’s too dark. Too quiet. I feel like there’s somewhere I need to go when I wake, even though we aren’t starting rehearsals until tomorrow.
It’s the diner. I feel like I should be at the diner.
Rafe and I agreed that it’s probably best for me to lay low until his mom leaves town tomorrow, so I pull on some leggings and a hoodie and head out to my patio with a cup of green tea and a slice of leftover gotcha day cake. I love the fresh, crisp, early morning air. All pine trees and mountain mist. Such a contrast to LA dust and pollution. I could see making the Pacific Northwest a base when I’m not traveling or working.
I’m planning on doing some writing at the diner this morning. Are you free?
The text from Noah buzzes against my thigh. In my contacts, his name is framed with red and black heart emoji, plus a dragon and flames. I get a thrill every time I see it.
Maybe. Let me see if I can get away.
PS. I have you penciled in for the next three sessions, Dorcas. We’ll work around your show schedule. Your fans are hungry for more.
PPS. I am your #1 fan.
I smile. We both have so many ideas about storylines we’d like to explore for Dorcas—and each other—but that’s a whole other kind of session.
The mountains are still fogged in a bit by mist this morning. It makes the forest at the edge of the property look magical, exactly like I imagine the forest fromA Midsummer Night’s Dreammight look, with curtains of thick, lacy ferns and cushioned beds of moss. The sort of forest where you might meet an actual fairy, or an orc. I might go for a run later. I’ve got a lot of cake to work off, including the thick slice I’ve just finished.
I lick the delicious, pink frosting off the plate.
Last night, I finally got to meet Uncle Nick and Uncle Stavros, who were just as colorful as I imagined them to be. Warm, genial, and completely insisting that I was family. A member of their family. Whether I wanted to be or not.
Uncle Nick baked a whole separate cake for me. Three layers, with flecks of Fruity Pebbles in the batter! He hugged me so hard when he saw me, it took my breath away. I cried when he told me he remembered me from the orphanage. Then we all cried when we went through the adoption album together. Uncle Nick told the story of how he and Kenna’s mom traveled to get her, an epic tale that’s clearly been told many times before. But this year, he made sure to add lots of new details about me. Like how he gave my mom all the little Fruity Pebbles cereal boxes he’d brought along for himself to snack on.
“It was you I was thinking of when I came up with these pancakes for the diner,” Uncle Nick says, explaining the fairy pancakes on the Ephron Diner menu. “You were like this weird, intense, little fairy creature,” he told me almost apologetically, “with your giant, fierce eyes and hedgehog hair.”
“Or a baby orc,” I mused.
I gave them their photos back, and Uncle Nick promised to have copies made. And then we called my mom on FaceTime, and everyone cried again. The uncles promised to make her an album, too, and take her to some local vineyards and fromageries when she visits.
I take the dishes back into the kitchenette and wash them. Why not meet Noah at the diner? I’m already missing Carlos and some of the regulars. I’d like a chance to see them again. This time as myself. No subterfuge. No making macchiatos. And no washing other people’s dishes.
I check the key hook for my keys. Nothing. I rifle through the drawers. No car keys. Then I remember we agreed to keep all the keys over at the main house. Great. Laying low does not include barging in, unannounced, to get my keys.
Hey Rafe, I was thinking I’d head into town for the day. Can you get me my car keys?
No response.
While I’m waiting, I empty the trash. Four brown wigs are piled up like dead animals. I pull the drawstrings tight and take the bag outside. The sooner those things are out of my life, the better.
After ten minutes, I text again. Nothing. The big house looks quiet, like everyone is still asleep. I do know that Rafe, Naomi, and Orly didn’t get back from LA till late last night. They weren’t back yet when I got home at close to eleven. So they’re probably still sleeping. If I’m quick and quiet, I can do this. I text Kenna again.
Do you recall exactly where the keys are?
There’s a blue bowl on the kitchen counter.
Kitchen counter, blue bowl.
I avoid the driveway and creep down the hill, looping around toward the back of the house, passing the beautiful koi pond en route. Giant, spotted, colorful fish swarm to the side of the pond like reporters storming a red carpet, hopeful for a soundbite.
“I’ve got nothing for you guys right now, but someone will be back later,” I promise them.
