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Iwoke up in paradise’s bedroom and loved it, which was bad. If I spent much more time in this great bed, I was going to get used to it, the same way living with Anemone at the Pink House (when it was blue) had gotten me used to not sleeping in hotels and the way that eating Marianne’s real cooking had me looking askance at frozen entrees. I had standards now, and those could play hell with your real life if you didn’t have much money, so I got my ass out of the trap of luxury and went out to the Big Chef to get fresh clothes. Vince was already off at work. I dressed in his favorite five-button jeans and the t-shirt of the day—“On Wednesdays, We Smash the Patriarchy”—grabbed my duffel and suitcase, and checked the new addition one last time.
It was blue. Vince’s bedroom was blue again. I laughed; I had to. We were trying to negotiate the rest of our lives in bedroom paint, that’s how mature we were. Or how averse we were to talking about the future. We were both idiots.
But that bedroom was a pretty blue now.
I went up to Anemone’s in time for breakfast, which today was eggs Benedict, which was not going to help my luxury problem.
“What the hell, you can’t do an Egg McMuffin?” I said to Marianne when she put the Plate of Ecstasy in front of me.
“What’s this yellow stuff?” Peri said, peering at it in suspicion.
We were alone, nobody else down yet. The Pink House does not rise early. “It’s hollandaise sauce. It’s delicious. Eat it.”
“Why is it yellow?”
“Egg yolks.”
Peri frowned. “Egg yolks on top of eggs? What isinthis?”
“Take it apart and see,” I said and cut into the first of my two eggs and watched the bright yolk run thick over the pepper spotted white. “Oh, God, this looks so good.” I cut on through the muffin.
“Is this ham?” Peri said, deconstructing her breakfast.
“It’s called Canadian bacon, but yes, it’s ham. On an English muffin. It’s the posh version of eggs and bacon with toast.”
“I don’t know about this yellow stuff,” Peri said.
“Try it. If you don’t like it, we’ll have Marianne make you another plate without the yellow stuff and I will eat the rest of yours.”
Peri screwed up her face at me. “You like it that much?”
“I love it. It may be my favorite breakfast. It’s definitely my favorite egg breakfast.”
“Huh.” Peri picked up her fork, evidently emboldened by the speed at which I was clearing my plate without making a yucky face, and we both got down to serious eating.
Anemone came down about halfway through, sat at the table with a large folder of papers, and began going through them.
“That’s rude,” I told her.
She looked up, startled, and I pointed my fork at her. “It’s the old timey version of reading your phone at the table.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, closing the folder to look at Peri. “And how are you this fine morning, Miss Periwinkle Blue?”
“I am fine, Miss Anemone Patterson,” Peri said. “These eggs are very good.”
“Eggs Benedict?” Anemone said, taking in her plate. “Good for Marianne.”
“Everything Marianne makes is good,” Peri said and went back to investigating her eggs. By eating them.
Anemone peered down the length of the table at me, she at the head where she belonged as Queen, and I at the foot so I could keep an eye on her. “How is the Shady Rest, Liz?”
“Terrifyingly good,” I said. “I can’t stay there long or I’ll start to think I deserve it.”
She frowned at me. “What’s there that you don’t deserve?”
“It’s just very . . . comfortable,” I said, not sure where she was going and positive I didn’t want to go there. “Thank you very much. I’m really enjoying it. Oh, and Colin is great.”
“I know,” Anemone said, still thinking, and then Marianne brought her plate in, so I switched my attention back to Peri.
