Chapter Five
Outside the window, birds chirped like it was some kind of Disney movie.
Calisa yanked the pillow out from under her and squeezed it over her face and ears. It made the room somewhat darker, but the birds were still shrieking, “Tweelee, tweelee!” and “See see see!” and—“Gah!” she said.
Sitting up, she looked at her phone. Five-thirty-five? In the morning?
The songbird on her windowsill took off at her sudden movement.
She heaved herself out of bed, intending to pull the curtains shut.
She hadn’t realized her room faced east, though even if she had, she wouldn’t have guessed that was a problem.
It wasn’t an issue at home. Usually, the streetlights, the headlights from the cars, and the change of the nearest traffic light invaded her sleep.
Morning came darkly, with a steady increase of noise, not with all this chirpy fanfare. Reaching the window, she looked out.
Mist curled over the forest, and lemon light stained the tops of the mountains.
It felt as if she were looking at a painting.
She stared out at it, her hand on the curtain, unwilling to close it.
As the sun spread over the pine trees, Calisa decided she didn’t hate the birds if they came with a view like this. She left the curtain alone.
Awake now, she trooped down the hall to the shared bathroom, showered, and dressed. It too was quaint, with a claw-foot bathtub as well as an archaic-looking shower, but the plumbing worked fine at least, once she figured out which knob did what.
As Calisa brushed her wet hair, she heard a low murmuring whisper outside the door. She stopped and tried to hear whose voice it was. “Hello? I’m in here.”
Another whisper joined the first—or was that a third?—but now they sounded distant. She thought of the odd whispers she’d heard underneath the porch. These sounded like that, garbled and far away.
Finishing her hair, she cracked open the door and peeked out into the hall. “Hello?”
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 tried blueberry 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 to impress 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’t need 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.
“I mean, why now instead of other summers?” he said. “You came here as a kid, you said, with the chocolate-covered strawberries, but then not again. Why didn’t you come back here before? Even to visit?”
A much better question. Also one that she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer. Or one I even can answer. She wondered why Auntie Zee’s no-questions rule didn’t apply to Jack. Maybe it was more a loose guideline than a rule.
As she thought about how to answer, Calisa checked on the butter—nicely melted.
She poured it in. “I think there was an argument? Between one of my moms and Auntie Zee. I was young, and no one ever told me what it was about. They made up, I’m pretty sure.
At least they talk on holidays, and she agreed to let me come here this summer…
.” Hadn’t she? Auntie Zee hadn’t acted happy to see her.
Based on what she’d said, it was seeming more likely now that Mom-Kate had just plowed ahead with what she thought was best.
Stirring the batter, Calisa chased the lumps of flour around the bowl.
She should have had a longer conversation with Mom-Kate before she’d come here about what exactly the status of their relationship was.
Or maybe it didn’t matter, and it was in the past. Really, all she had to do now was convince Auntie Zee to let her stay longer than three days, which she’d have a better chance of doing if she made herself useful—by making everyone excellently fluffy pancakes.
She didn’t need to fix old family problems that weren’t her business.
Just like she didn’t need to know why Mulligan wanted a single vial of hot chocolate.
She ladled batter onto the griddle. It spread into a circle. She added three more circles of batter to the griddle. “Spatula?” she asked Jack.
He produced a spatula, and she thanked him.
When the pancakes began to bubble, she flipped them.
After waiting a minute, she turned to ask Jack for a plate—and saw that he’d laid out trays, each with a plate, a rolled-up linen napkin, a glass of milk, and multiple tiny bowls with various syrups.
He was putting blossoms into tiny vases in the corner of each tray.
“How did you do that so quickly?” Calisa asked.
He shrugged. “Practice. Can’t make pancakes but can set up a room service tray.”
“The guests don’t eat breakfast downstairs?” She shouldn’t be surprised, given how dusty and unwelcoming the common rooms were, but still…shouldn’t they?
“Guests always used to,” Jack said, “but lately, they’ve preferred to eat in their rooms. I guess because it’s nicer—you’ve seen the dining room—or maybe they just like the privacy.
” As he finished with adding flowers to the trays, she transferred the golden and pillowy pancakes to plates and started the next batch.
He picked up two of the trays and carried them out of the kitchen. She heard his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he returned, she had pancakes on the last tray. He took that one to the third floor as she scraped out the rest of the batter, then piled the remaining pancakes onto a single plate.
Sitting on a stool at the counter, Jack helped himself to three of the stacked pancakes and then poured raspberry maple syrup on top of them, so much that it dripped down the sides of the pancakes and pooled on the plate.
She sat on a stool next to him. “Do the guests stay in their rooms all the time?”
He handed her the maple syrup. “Room eight usually only comes out at night, but once room three arrives, you’ll see her and room twelve pretty frequently.”
Only comes out at night…“Is room eight Mulligan?”
He glanced at her with surprise. “You’ve met Mulligan?”
Calisa waved her fork at the stove, then swallowed her bite of pancake. Oh wow, raspberry maple syrup! Jack was right—it tasted like pure summer, with a twist of maple. Belatedly, she answered, “He was making hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate this time? Huh. He’s tried stranger things.”