Page 33 of You Chive Me Crazy
“No,” she said. “Turn off the light and say good night. Again.”
I chuckled. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
I reached for my phone to set the alarm.
“And make it three hours this time since Dr. Bonebrake said to wake me up everyfewhours,” Zoe added. “I remember his exact words, so have a heart. I would like to wake up with the sun this time.”
I would not argue with her because he said that, now that I had thought about it. “No problem.”
Three hours later, the morning sun streamed through the window, shining a warm glow across the room. I stretched lazily, then glanced over the wall of pillows for Zoe, but her side of the bed was empty.
Confused, I sat up and looked toward the bathroom, but the door was wide open with no noise coming from that direction. That was when I noticed the cool breeze in the room and the open window. I was certain it had been closed when we went to bed. Zoe obviously opened it.
A pang of worry slammed me in the chest.
I jumped up, padded over to the window, and peered out, wondering if Zoe had gotten dizzy and fallen out. That sounded a little paranoid, but I would never have forgiven myself if I had allowed anything to happen to her.
I let out a breath of relief when I saw her sitting on the bench outside by the lake’s edge, watching the sun come up. Without giving it a second thought, I quickly got dressed and headed downstairs.
The inn was quiet at that early hour, the only sound coming from the kitchen, most likely Betsy and Marty getting things ready for breakfast. Then there was the parrot, who seemed to have a conversation with herself.
Alexa squawked. “I’m like a bird, I only fly away.”
“Is that right?” I asked. “Tell me more.”
She squawked again. “I don't know where my soul is.”
“Did you check your purse?” I chuckled and walked outside.
I sat on the bench beside Zoe, looking out as the sun cast a golden light across the water. It was serene, just like the current Zoe, but who knew how long that would last?
“Did you get the worm?” I said.
She didn’t take her eyes off the water. “Aren’t you supposed to start off by asking my name?”
“I make the rules.”
“Zoe Bell. Serendipity Inn. Big Bear Lake. Filo.”
I laughed. “Nice try the way you ended with my last name, but those answers are not valid unless I ask the questions first. Why is pound cake called pound cake?”
She turned to me. “The original recipe that dates back to the 1700s called for a pound of butter, a pound of sugar, a pound of flour, and a pound of eggs. Contrary to what some Americans think, the recipe does not come from the UK, nor is it in any way related to the British Pound Sterling. The Brits call our pound cake the madeira cake or sponge cake, from what I understand. I could be wrong, but don’t sue me. And now I’m hungry, so maybe I should sue you.”
“Or we could just settle out of court and go inside to eat breakfast,” I said, chuckling. “And I’ll let you skip the rest of the questions since you were so thorough in your answer, but you still should take it easy today, you know. How’s your head?”
“It’s good,” Zoe said.
I inhaled the fresh morning air, then said, “But you couldn’t sleep?”
She sighed and looked out over the water. “I mean, I slept for a little, but then I woke up and started thinking about the food festival again. The effect was worse than a double shot of espresso.”
“You’re worried about your thousand potatoes?”
That got the slightest of smiles out of her, which I considered a win.
“Yes—there’s that,” she said. “And the franchise thing is a big deal.”
