Page 23 of Air Of Mystery
Kenna jumped in surprise and pressed an oven mitt-covered hand to her heart. “You scared me. Didn’t expect anyone else to be awake or up besides me.”
“Worked on editing all night long and now I’m starving,” I said as I walked over toward the counter where she had various loaves of bread and pastries cooling on an assortment of wire racks. Eagerly I reached out.
“Hands off.” Kenna body blocked me. “Those are for the bakery.”
“Fine.” I pouted. “I’ll have a bowl of cold cereal.” Turning on my heel, I walked over to the pantry and yanked out a box of corn flakes.
While I shuffled around the kitchen grabbing a bowl, a spoon, and some milk, I bumped into Kenna no less than three times.
“Swear to god, Skye,” she huffed impatiently as we danced around each other. “Will you please stay out from underfoot while I’m working?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. Finally making it to the kitchen island, I plopped myself down and poured the cereal. I began to eat and watched as my sister zipped around the kitchen, moving quickly while she took trays out of one of the ovens and slid more itemsright in. She set her timers, checked off her tasks on her white board, and never skipped a beat.
“How did the reveal go with the owner of the restaurant?” Kenna asked as she began to remove cooling muffins from a tin.
“He was pretty stoked,” I said around a mouth of cereal. “We got some great footage. It was one of those rare investigations where you not only are able to document a lot, but we had fun too.”
To my surprise, Kenna placed a muffin beside my cereal bowl. “This is a new recipe,” she explained. “I’d like your opinion.”
I glanced down at the muffin. There were blueberries dotted across the top. It was more rustic and less fancy than the ones with the crumb topping Kenna usually made. “What kind of muffin is it?”
“It’s a blueberry cornmeal buttermilk muffin.”
I picked it up and held it to eye level. It was still warm and smelled terrific. “Smells good, and it looks pretty.”
Kenna nodded. “Yes, it has a good height and a nice crown. But I’m curious if it will be sweet enough for the bakery...”
I peeled off part of the muffin liner and took an experimental bite. My eyes closed in appreciation. “Wow,” I managed a moment later.
“You like it?” Kenna asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I’d like it better if I had some butter to slather on it.”
Her brow furrowed in concern. “Is it dry?”
“No,” I said, “it’s amazing. I’d still like to put some butter on it.”
With a chuckle, Kenna picked up the butter dish and a knife and brought them over to me. “Here you go.”
I sliced the muffin in half, loaded it up with butter, and dug in. “Oh, man.” I sighed happily.
“Did you forget to eat dinner last night?” she asked as I plowed my way through the muffin.
“Actually, Jim, the restaurant owner, treated us to dinner,” I explained. “It was great. I had peach cobbler for dessert. Which was pretty good. But they have a coconut cream pie there...and that’s an almost religious experience.”
Kenna walked back to me, holding a second muffin. “Was their peach cobbler better than my recipe?”
I eyeballed that muffin. “If I say no, do I get to have another one of those?”
“Maybe.”
“Yourswasbetter,” I said honestly. “Their cobbler was missing something. It needed some spice—maybe some cinnamon.”
Kenna handed me the second muffin, and I gleefully dug in. A moment later, she was back and sliding a cup of herbal tea across the counter to me.
“Thanks,” I said over a mouthful.
“You drink too much coffee, Skye. I’m amazed that you still have a stomach lining.”
