Page 13 of Sweet Home

Though if she couldn’t find a cheap enough place to stay, she might not even be able to do that. It was entirely possible that she might end the season worse off than she started it.

I’ve got this,she told herself silently as she pictured her sister’s face.I’ll find a way because I always do.

With that in mind, she slipped out of bed, eventhough all she wanted was to curl up withLittle Womenand pretend to be a rich lady on vacation.

She popped into the bathroom to quickly wash up and dress. Then she headed out to the kitchen.

By now, the light outside the windows had turned rosy with the dawn. The apples, oranges, and bananas on the kitchen wallpaper looked even more cheerful than when she first saw them last night.

In spite of wolfing down all that stew right before bed, her stomach was already grumbling hopefully again. West had told her she could help herself to anything she wanted, but she wasn’t sure he’d meant it, or that he was speaking for his wife. What if she ate something, or too much of something, and his wife thought Dulcie was a pig and threw her out?

Though she doubted a man as nice as West would marry a truly mean woman, she couldn’t help noticing that he’d given her a pair of his own pajamas last night, not hers.

Pressing her lips together, she looked around.

There was a drip coffee maker on the counter. If she could find the coffee, then making a pot might be considered helpful.

The radio on the counter was too tempting to ignore. She slid the volume almost all the way down, hoping not to wake anyone, and turned it on.

An old-timey version of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” played softly, and she smiled and hummed along as she searched for coffee.

The upper cupboard nearest to thesink housed several metal canisters. One held flour, and another sugar. On her third try she found the coffee grounds.

Once a pot was brewing, she raided the refrigerator for milk. She intended to just put a little in her coffee and hope the others were up soon. But then she remembered she was on a dairy farm, and ended up grabbing a mug and impulsively filling it almost to the brim from the big glass jar. Before she could change her mind, she chugged it down.

The milk was creamy, sweet, and delicious, and she wondered at how being fresh made such a big difference.

“Good morning,” a familiar, bell-clear little voice said from the doorway. “You’re thirsty.”

Dulcie turned, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, to find Elizabeth observing her curiously.

“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Dulcie said. “How did you sleep?”

“I’m hungry,” Elizabeth said, cutting to the chase in a manner Dulcie thought was admirable. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”

Pancakes soundedincredible, and from her coffee search, Dulcie happened to know where a lot of the ingredients were.

“That sounds so good,” she said. “But won’t your mom want to decide what to eat for breakfast?”

“My mama doesn’t live here anymore,” Elizabeth said nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Dulcie said, stunned. “I’m, um, I’m sorry about that.”

The whole situation began to rearrange itself in her mind.

“Daddy likes pancakes,” Elizabeth went on, seemingly unaffected when it came to talk of her mother. “He likes them with a lot of syrup.”

Dulcie tried not to smile at the little girl’s unsubtle hints.

“I see,” she said. “Well, I think we can make pancakes. Do you want to help me?”

Elizabeth nodded her head up and down.

“Great,” Dulcie said. “Let’s wash our hands first. I always like to wash my hands before cooking.”

“You have to put my hair up,” Elizabeth told her. “We don’t want my sticky hands in it.”

“Okay,” Dulcie told her. “Do you have stuff to put it up with?”

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