Page 61 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“I won't let him win.”

Marnie crooked her finger. “Now, come and learn how to crack an egg.”

Hours later, the two women were still poring over the internet. Olivia apparently had little exposure to the Net. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Marnie enjoyed her role as teacher. Drawing from her experience at the library, she showed Olivia some of the popular sites. News, politics, and entertainment topped the list. She was pleased to see Jake had many of the same sites in his browser history.

“Time to take a break.”

Although Olivia appeared ready to argue, she stood when Marnie did.

“Let's finish the pizza.”

“Deal.” Olivia grabbed the empty water glasses as they made their way back to the kitchen. She started to refill them as Marnie placed the pizza on plates and put the first slice in the microwave.

“How about milk this time?”

Olivia wrinkled her nose, but dutifully set out two glasses of milk on the bar. She hopped onto the stool as Marnie placed the plate in front of her.

“Don't wait.”

With a grin, Olivia dug into her pizza. “This still tastes good, even after two days.”

“Your uncle has good taste in delivery.” Marnie dug into her own slice with gusto. The best pizza she’d ever had, bar none. “He says he doesn't cook much.”

The younger woman contemplated for a moment. “He didn't cook for me. Maybe we can put him to the test.”

“We could. Since he’s working today, though, you and I can cook tonight.”

Eyes alight, Olivia rubbed her hands together. “I like this idea. What can we make?”

“I asked Jake to buy skinless boneless chicken breasts. How about rosemary chicken with grilled vegetables and mashed potatoes?”

“Fancy.”

“But doable.” Marnie slid off her stool and grabbed the empty plates while Olivia nabbed the glasses. After placing the dishes in the washer, Olivia turned to Marnie.

“Where did you learn to cook? I mean, did he make you cook?” She brushed her hair away from her face, hand shaking.

Marnie’s heart constricted. She pointed to the living room area. “Why don't we sit?” Olivia was uncomfortable, so Marnie took the lead, sitting on the couch, tucking her socked feet under her.

Olivia took the chair opposite.

“I taught myself to cook.” Marnie tightened her ponytail. “Trial and error. It took an iron stomach and infinite patience.”

“How did you do it?”

“Well, I started with recipes from cookbooks and off the Net—”

“No,” Olivia interrupted, “I mean how did you do it? Adjust to your life beyond…”

Ah. She smiled, pain in her chest, but gave a smile nonetheless. “I'm still working on it. I'm a work in progress.”

Olivia's hands were clasped.

Give her more. “How much do you know about my story?”

“Not much.” Olivia shrugged. “I couldn't bear to hear the details. I was thirteen when you escaped, and I didn't pay a lot of attention.Hetalked about you a lot, though. About how everyone was looking for you while I was just considered to be a runaway. He kept telling me my mother had moved on with her life, and I believed him. She was probably relieved when I disappeared.”

Tempted to argue, Marnie held her tongue. This was Olivia’s story to tell.

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