It was empty.
She listened, but the voices had vanished. If the inn had TVs, she would have said one had been switched off. Or maybe it was a guest on the phone? Anyway, it hadn’t been anyone talking to her. Dismissing it, Calisa headed down the hall. She was humming to herself by the time she reached the kitchen.
Looking as if he’d been awake for hours, Jack was assembling multiple bottles of maple syrup on the counter. He brightened when she came into the room. “Have you ever triedblueberry maple syrup?” he asked. “Or salted-caramel maple syrup?”
“Never.”
He picked up a bottle shaped like a leaf. “How about elderberry?”
“I don’t even know what an elderberry is.”
“It’s a berry from an elderberry bush, which I realize as I say it is not so much of a definition, but it’s good. Especially on pancakes…which you said you’d make?” Jack looked at her hopefully. He was one hundred percent a morning person, far too chipper for barely after dawn, but somehow he managed to be more adorable than annoying.
She laughed, despite how early it was. “Yes, I’ll make them right now.”
Calisa pulled out the ingredients, as well as the bowl that Mulligan had used to make his hot chocolate. She wondered how much batter to make. Should she double the recipe? Triple it? She usually made one and a half batches for her and her parents. “How many guests are in the Faraway Inn right now?”
“Four,” Jack said, then paused. “Three.”
“You’re not sure, or you lost one?”
“I didn’t…” He trailed off, composed himself, and answered, “Three who will eat pancakes. Actually, two, but the third is supposed to arrive soon, so I’d count her. Plus me, you, and Auntie Zee.”
Two-soon-to-be-three was not a healthy number of guests. Still, she’d better make triple what she usually made for her and her moms. Better too much than too little, if she wanted toimpress her great-aunt. She recited the adjusted recipe in her head as she cooked:
One and a half sticks of butter.
She unwrapped two sticks, chopped one in half, and set the butter to melt in a little pot on the stove. The inn lacked a microwave, which she hadn’t noticed before, but a pot would work fine. “Is there a griddle? Or any kind of flat pan?”
He handed her a circular griddle, and she laid it on the stove and switched on the burners to preheat, before turning back to the ingredients:
Four and a half cups of flour.
Six tablespoons of sugar.
She added a half tablespoon extra. She always did. Learned that from Mom-Elise. You always need a little extra sugar, she’d say. Life lesson.
Seven and a half teaspoons of baking powder.
Three-quarters teaspoon salt.
“So, I was wondering…” He was looking at the stove, not at her, which she thought was a sign that he was about to ask something she didn’t want to answer.
Six eggs.
She cracked each one and tossed the shells in the garbage. The yolks reminded her of the sunrise, plump on the mountain.
“Yes?” she said when he didn’t continue.
“Why are you here? Not here in the kitchen, but here at the Faraway Inn this summer?”
Yep, she was right. She didn’t want to explain again. It was bad enough that she’d told Auntie Zee and Mulligan. She didn’tneed her coworker with the very gorgeous eyes and floppy hair looking at her with pity. “I told you: to help Auntie Zee.”
One and three-quarters teaspoons vanilla.
She thought of Mulligan as she added the vanilla and wondered what he’d think of her pancakes and if he’d drunk his vial of hot chocolate yet. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was just so quirky that she couldn’t stop wondering about it. Why save just a teaspoon of hot chocolate? She stirred, breaking the egg yolks with the spoon. The eggy flour clumped on its neck.
Three cups of milk.She poured the cups in, plus a splash extra.
