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Several more Minions stepped out, grinning broadly. One held out a basket filled with breads: white and whole grain, French baguettes and Kaiser rolls coated densely with poppyseeds. Another brought paper bags filled with fat ripe peaches and deep red summer cherries. “From the garden of my grandmother,” the young man said. “She adores Queenie.”
When the scent of the peaches hit her nostrils, Melanie’s tummy growled and her mouth flooded. She hoped that Rhys’s cam wouldn’t show her drooling.
Over the next hour, they stood in the front yard, speechless in amazement as more and more cars came and went. Some visitors even arrived from as far as two towns over.
Zanifa busied herself bustling into the kitchen with armloads of gifts and supplies. A still-warm tarte-tatin with a pot of sour cream, and strict instructions that the crispy apple pie must be eaten with dollops of cream on top.
“Apple pie and sour cream?” Rhys questioned.
“Trust me,” Zanifa promised. “We taste it today, and you will never want your apple pie without.”
Grocery bags filled with canned goods, crackers, vegetables, and cheeses. Fresh juices. Several good bottles of wine. 120 calories a glass, Melanie’s conscience reminded her.
Shut up, she snapped back at it.
A parcel of fresh pork. “Slaughtered this morning at my farm,” the coveralls-clad older man informed them proudly, immediately giving Melanie a crisis of conscience at the idea. Packages of meat under cellophane at the supermarket was one thing, but the idea that dinner was wandering around the farm a few hours ago was something else.
An orange net bag filled with odd-looking brown lumps. At first, she assumed they were mushrooms, but then the lumps seemed to be moving! “Escargot,” Zanifa whispered out of the side of her mouth as Melanie thanked the beaming gift-giver. “You like?”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever had escargot and tried to shove the idea that these were snails, garden pests, out of her mind. “I might faint if one of them walks on me.”
“Don’t worry; I take care of it.”
When one of their visitors brought an adapter to charge their devices, Melanie almost fell at her feet in gratitude.
The stream of well-wishers and gift-givers dwindled to a trickle, and everyone trooped inside to survey their unexpected wealth. There were bags on every surface in the kitchen, and the fridge was almost full. Melanie picked up a bottle and looked at it. Kirsch cherries. Another held brandied plums.
I am going to explode,she thought.
After hastily putting their phones to charge, they sat on the porch and had a breakfast picnic. Melanie regretfully gave the eggs Benedict a pass, but enjoyed two strawberry crepes, then made up for her guilty conscience by filling up on fresh fruit.
Zanifa promised to help her out with her snail dilemma. “Escargots, you must eat them at once. I will cook before I leave today, yes?”
Melanie had her doubts, but Rhys was gleeful. “Eating snails! Eww, gross! I bet they taste like boogers. Whoo-hoo!”
Then, when breakfast was over, she knew she couldn’t avoid it anymore. It was time to face the music. She got her newly charged phone and texted Queenie:
M:I’ve made a terrible mistake.
The response was immediate, as if Queenie had been waiting.
Q:Yes, Princess. I know. I saw the footage.
Melanie groaned.Of course, she knew. She tried to imagine what she must have looked like, whirling like a barefoot dervish, claws out, trying to slash a much larger man to ribbons. She must have looked insane.
M:I’m so sorry. I misunderstood. What can I do?
Q: Mr. Durant has quit. He no longer desires to work with you.
Oh,God! She’d had the nagging feeling that he would. Who would want to work with anyone as unstable as she? She felt the choking sensation of desperation rising in her throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She was here to make something of herself, make something of this house. And she needed help to do it.
M:Is there anyone else? Another handyman who can help me? I can’t do this alone.
Q: There is no one else. I chose him for a reason.
M: What do I do?
Q: Only one thing can do. You woman up. You apologize.
Then there was a soft chime,and a note appeared at the bottom of the screen: Queenie Abara has sent you a pin.
It was the location of Corbin Durant’s house. And, like he’d said, it was within walking distance.
