“Be right back.”
I went into the pantry, but it was hopeless. I had no idea what a flaxseed was. It sounded more like a sneeze than a food.
“Can you make pancakes?” Ryla asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the pantry like a ninja, making me jump into action. I tried to make myself look busy by rummaging around the pantry shelves.
“What? Sure, I can.”
In response, Ryla gave me asure you dolook that a girl her age should not know how to do. Maybe it was ingrained into every woman’s DNA, because I’d seen exactly five people give me that look and they were all female: my mother, my sister, Rae, Sienna, and now, this six-year-old spitfire.
Ryla took a few steps into the pantry and muscled a large paper sack into her arms. I knelt down, taking it from her, reading the front of the package.Almond Flourread the label. I gave a resigned, breathless chuckle as Ryla moved on quietly, next plucking a small plastic canister from the same shelf and holding it up.Ground flaxseedit read. Grinning sheepishly, I ushered her out of the pantry and put the ingredients on the island next to Barry. I eyed the recipe again, then back down to Ryla.
She lifted her arms up.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
“Pick me up,” she ordered, making me jump to attention and pick her straight up, holding her by the armpits.
“Put me down,” she ordered again, pointing to the island.
Once I placed her on the countertop, she sat cross legged, then spun Barry toward her.
“Flaxseed almond pancakes, strawberries, turkey bacon,” she read aloud, then eyed me, seeing through my lie and directly into my soul.
I hedged my bets, squinting at her out of one eye. “When does your brother wake up?”
She shrugged. “Later.”
“Does he eat breakfast?”
“Sometimes.”
Helpful. Truly helpful. I pointed to the menu, taking a deep breath and trying again. “Does he eat this breakfast?”
“No. He has the honey Cheerios.”
Interesting. More interesting because it wasn’t written down.
“How committed are you to these pancakes?” Because strawberries and turkey bacon I could do. Flaxseed almond pancakes? Not so much.
She continued to look at me blankly.
I tried again. “Let me say it this way. If I make the strawberries and turkey bacon, will you eat the Cheerios instead of the pancakes and call it a deal?”
Ryla crossed her arms, looking ready to play hardball. “What will you give me?”
I crossed my arms right back. “I like your style. What are you thinking? A high five? A piggyback ride? What kind of currency are you expecting here?”
“Ten dollars.”
“Ten bucks?” I shouted, lowering my voice when I remembered Max was sleeping. “Try again. You think I was born yesterday?”
She actually brought her index finger to her chin and tapped it, making me sweat. A mischievous smile spread over her face. “A dog.”
I frowned. “I think you’re getting colder here.”
“One cup almond flour,” she read aloud, looking down at the menu, then back at me.
