“Okay.” There was a muffled shuffling and laughter, and the call went silent.
“Harrison? Did you hear me?” He was gone. I sent him a text to wait until I got home.
“I have to go help,” I said to Brooks as I made my way to the exit.
“You’re going to have to let them learn on their own!” she called after me.
“Great thought, in theory!” I yelled back, making my way out to my car.
I went as fast as I could, but somehow, the quick trip to the store was anything but, and with the drive up, everything ended up taking almost an hour.
When I pulled up, I heard the screams of laughter coming from the large wrap-around yard. Three little girls with sparkling dress-up gowns chased Harrison with fake swords as he held on to his pirate’s hat, yelling, “Avast ye, maties! Avast!”
Shrill cries filled the air as the little women tackled him.
“Aye! Me booty!” Harrison shouted as they dogpiled on him, causing a chorus of laughter.
I shook my head and laughed. Everything was fine. I rushed and stressed for no reason. Brooks was right. I should give him more credit than that.
With arms loaded, I made my way to the side door and into the kitchen. The smell of burning was the only warning I had.
All at once, the deafening tones of the smoke detector pierced the air. I dropped the groceries on the table to cover my ears and quickly found the source.
Smoke billowed from the oven. The attempt at cupcakes was all over the pan and spilled over the edges of the rack, sending streams of smoke into my face. I coughed and waved, eyes burning. Everything was burned to a crisp, and a small pile was actually on fire.
I scrambled to cover my hand with a dish towel and pulled the pan out of the oven, but I missed my pinky and realized too late as the searing pain shot through my finger. I yelped and dropped the pan, at the same time slamming back into the table where I just set down the groceries, causing the bags to spill over and onto the floor.
“What’s all the ruckus?” George shuffled into the kitchen.
“Everything’s fine.” I grabbed the pointless towel and waved the smoke toward the open side door. I leaned over the sink and shoved the window open, freeing more of the smoke.
“Are the cupcakes ruined?” He frowned at the still-smoking tray on the ground.
“It’s not looking good,” I grumbled.
He nudged the bags on the ground with his cane. “Did you get the cookies?”
I groaned as I sucked on my now throbbing pinky with one hand and continued to fan with the towel with the other.
“Why is the alarm—” Harrison stopped short just inside the kitchen, still panting from playing outside. His tricorn hat sat askew on his messy hair, and an eye patch covered one eye. His loose smile instantly fell off his face as he registered the scene.
“The cupcakes—” I shouted just as the smoke alarm finally stopped, my shout hanging in the now silent air. “Seem a little well done,” I finished. Shoulders slumped. Defeated. Growing anger bubbled under my skin.
“Bloody hell.” He pushed the eye patch up and scrubbed his face. “I forgot. I’msosorry. I forgot.”
His gaze roamed the scene; groceries spilled on the floor alongside a tray of burned cupcakes. Flour and mixing bowls all over the counters and not a single clean surface. His face crumpled as he saw what I had already registered. It was like a tornado had ripped through the kitchen.
“Yeah. I gathered.” Absurdly, my frustration manifested as tears I fought back. I glowered at my burned pinky instead.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. His pitiful face moved to me, where I cradled my hand to my chest.
“I was trying to get the cupcakes out.” It came out as a growl.
“Well, that was silly,” George added. “Where are we at on dinner?”
I took a steadying breath in and out.
“It’ll be just a minute, George.” Harrison turned to me. “Christ. I’m so sorry.” He moved to the freezer and got an ice cube, then wrapped it in a paper towel.
