Page 31 of Back to Square One

Chapter Seven

Back to the non-alcoholic stuff today.

That was the most prominent thought in Rowan’s mind as she dragged her sorry ass out of bed on Wednesday morning. When she’d slept, which hadn’t been nearly enough, she’d slept like crap. Restless. Tossing. Her eyes popping open at every little sound. It had to have been the alcohol.

She managed a shower and threw on some shorts and a tank and padded down the stairs in her bare feet, on a mission to the coffeepot.

As usual, Justine was in the kitchen, pulling a sheet pan out of the oven. “Morning,” she said, to which Rowan grunted. “Oh, my, somebody had a bad night.”

Rowan reached for a mug and poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid she hoped would give her at least an iota of energy.

“You okay?” Only then did she notice that Justine was standing there, looking at her with concern.

A nod. “Yeah. Just slept terribly.”

“I’m sorry.” Justine pulled the oven mitts off her hands.

“Lying there awake just became irritating.” Rowan took a sip of the coffee, scalding her mouth, but also feeling the caffeine hit her system instantly. “So, here I am. Hi.”

“I made a blueberry pancake bake, so go have a seat on the deck, and I’ll bring you a plate. It’s gorgeous this morning.”

Rowan stepped toward her, pushed up on her toes, and kissed Justine’s cheek. “You are a goddess. Thank you.” Then she headed out to the deck.

As had become the routine now, the boat was gone. Rowan assumed at least Lizzie and Stevie were on it, if not an extra person or two. Jazzy lounged in a chair with a cup of coffee and what looked to be a political thriller novel, and Rowan nodded a good morning to her.

“Hi,” Jasmine said, setting her book down.

“Oh, no.” Rowan waved a hand at her. “Go ahead and read. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“I just finished a chapter. You’re not interrupting. How’d you sleep?”

“Lousy. You?”

“Not great. Was there something in the air?” Jazzy shook her head, and it was clear the question was rhetorical.

Rowan shook her head and took the lounge next to Jasmine.

“Breakfast smells amazing,” Jazzy commented. “Justine’s a chef?”

Rowan nodded. “Owns her own café.”

“Seriously? I feel bad that she’s doing all the cooking, then. This is supposed to be a vacation, and she’s still working.”

“It’s okay. She loves it.” Rowan sat back and took a sip of coffee before continuing. “The first time we all vacationed together was, like, eight or nine years ago, I think. The first time we came to this lake. She did all the cooking, and after the first three days, we all felt terrible about that, so we said something. And she told us she wouldn’t have it any other way, that cooking for us wasn’t work to her, that it’s how she shows her love. Which we all kinda knew, but to hear her say it was really sweet.”

“Aww.”

“Yeah. So, she’s done all the cooking ever since, and we always make sure to lavish her with praise, so she knows how much we all appreciate it.”

“She’s a magnificent cook. That chicken the other night?” Jazzy dropped her head back against the chair and rolled it from side to side in delight. “Good God, it was delicious.”

As if on cue, Justine appeared with two plates and two forks, and she handed one to each of them. “You guys are my guinea pigs. First time I’ve made this outside the café. Let me know if it’s okay.”

Each plate had two squares on it, one sitting up against the other—because presentation was everything, Justine had taught her once—drizzled with maple syrup and dusted with powdered sugar. The squares were the cakey tan color of pancakes with little deep blue explosions of color sprinkled throughout. Rowan and Jasmine each cut themselves a bite and popped them into their mouths. And then? Eyes went wide as they looked at each other.

“Oh my God,” Jazzy said, her words muffled by the food in her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“So good,” Rowan agreed, nodding as she chewed. “Wow.” She also remembered from experience that Justine liked to hear the details, so she did her best. “It’s a little more cake-like than a pancake but has the same flavor. It could be dry, but it’s not because the blueberries are just bursting with juice. How did you keep it from getting soggy?”