She gasped and her cheeks blazed with color, then her lips twitched and the most adorable giggle escaped. She opened her mouth to say something, but a couple of other guests came in and she stepped back. “I have to get breakfast ready.”
“Of course.”
“Mommy!”
A little blur tore across the room as Noelle ran to her mother, flinging her arms around Alex’s legs. Seth followed more sedately, sitting down at the table next to me, nodding his greeting.
Alex ran her fingers through her daughter’s wild hair, smiling at her. “Are you ready for day care?”
Noelle nodded enthusiastically. “Iz pizza day!”
Alex laughed. “Your favorite.” She looked at Seth. “Did you get all your homework done?”
“Yep. Even algebra.”
“Okay. Your lunches and snacks are in the kitchen. Have some breakfast.”
I cleared my throat. “While others are deciding, may I have an egg white omelet, vegetables only, and low-fat cheese? Whole wheat toast, no butter please.”
Alex and Seth exchanged a glance. “Pardon?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. Is there someone else I should give my order to?”
She shook her head. “It’s a breakfast buffet, Dylan.”
It was my turn to be confused. “A buffet?”
“You serve yourself.”
I blinked. “You expect me to make my own omelet?” I sputtered. “I don’t know how to cook.”
“There are no omelets.” Alex’s voice was patient and somewhat amused. “There are scrambled eggs and bacon. You can toast a bagel or grab a muffin. Make a waffle. There’s yogurt and fresh fruit. Juice. Coffee. You help
yourself to whatever you want.”
Make a waffle? Toast a bagel?
I looked at the tables where Alex had carried the trays. Other guests were already helping themselves, seemingly comfortable at the way the inn did things.
Once again, I had to remind myself I wasn’t in my world anymore.
I must have appeared shocked.
Noelle moved away from her mother and grabbed my hand. “I hep you, Dywan. I make da bethest waffas! Wight, Sef?”
“Right, kiddo. The best.”
She tugged my hand. “Come on! I show you!”
Ten minutes later, I was staring at my plate filled with a waffle Noelle and I made together. When she said she “made” the best waffles, what she really meant was, she pointed to the foam cup full of goopy batter and instructed you precisely how to pour it into the pan. She was noticeably impatient at my lack of skill when it came to flipping the waffle pan. Seth had to help me the first time, but I was proud of myself when I flipped it back with precision, Noelle clapping her little hands in delight.
The waffles were covered with globs of butter and overflowing with syrup—both of which Noelle insisted I had to have. I did manage to convince her I didn’t need the sprinkles she told me made it taste “even betta.” There was definitely more sugar on my plate than I would eat in a year. There was another plate with bacon and eggs. Seth had assured me, as he filled his own plate, Alex made them, and they weren’t the fake kind that came in a carton.
I had no idea you could get fake eggs in a carton.
“Twy it, Dywan!”
Gingerly, I picked up my utensils and cut into the thick, gooey mess. Noelle watched anxiously as I chewed and swallowed. It was sweet and dense, the butter and syrup melting in my mouth.