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Inwardly, she thought he was spot on. She pictured all those boxes in the fridge, and repressed a shudder, barely.
But there was no excuse for bad language, especially in front of Mimi.
He made a non-committal grunt that she decided to take as an apology.
“So, we’ve established that gorzant beans are not your favorite,” she said. “What do you want to eat?”
Dyrk and Mimi exchanged a look.
“What do we want to eat?” Dyrk echoed dubiously.
“We don’t have to eat those beans,” Emilia said. “We can go down to the kitchen and cook whatever we want.”
Interest flashed in Dyrk’s eyes, and he got up right away, forgetting to pretend not to care about anything.
“I want cakes,” Mimi yelled.
“Let’s see what kind of ingredients we have,” Emilia said, heading back to the hall.
“Can we really eat cake for dinner?” Dyrk asked.
She turned to him and saw he had stopped short in the middle of his room.
“I can’t promise without seeing what you have in the kitchen,” Emilia said carefully, thinking of tenet number fifty-eight, Never make promises you can’t keep. “But probably. Cake isn’t very hard to make.”
His expression brightened, and for just a moment she saw the happy young man hiding underneath that layer of self-consciousness and resentment.
Then he was striding past her to the hallway to join his little sister, who happily grabbed his hand.
Emilia was surprised and pleased to see that he didn’t pull away from her, like so many older siblings his age were apt to do.
He’s a good big brother, she thought to herself. That’s wonderful.
“Do you guys have any opinions about cake flavors?” she asked as they cascaded down the stairs.
“Chocolate,” Dyrk said immediately. “But we don’t have any.”
“We’ll poke around,” Emilia said. “You never know.”
“Dyrk loves chocolate,” Mimi yelled as they reached the foyer and headed through the piano room.
When they reached the kitchen, Emilia looked around.
“Do you guys help out in the kitchen a lot?” she asked. “Do you know where the baking things are?”
They shook their heads.
“Oh wow, we’re going to have so much fun,” she told them, trying to project more confidence than she felt at the moment. “This is going to be our first homemade meal.”
“Daddy doesn’t like to cook,” Mimi said.
“Mom didn’t either,” Dyrk added quietly.
“Mommy is a winged warrior,” Mimi said proudly. “She saved the world, and now she lives on top of a cloud and drinks Humpty Dumpty.”
“Honeyed mead,” Dyrk corrected her. “And that’s just a story.”
“There’s a painting of it at the library,” Mimi said. “And there’s a statue, and Daddy said so.”
