Page 6

“Mom cooks oatmeal on Sunday.”

“Oatmeal,” Sage repeated, already feeling at a loss. Oatmeal required cooking on a stove and measuring cups, of which she had none. This seemed far more complicated than her culinary skill level. Maybe there was an instant variety—she’d check the next time she went for groceries.

“How about Eggos?” she suggested.

“What’s that?” His sweet young face was full of questions.

Sage wasn’t entirely sure. She’d found the waffle-like picture on a box in the freezer section, and it looked like something a child would enjoy. “We’ll find out together,” she said.

Ricky was content to wait until they returned to the condo. Once inside, Sage opened her freezer and took out the box of Eggos to show Ricky. He carefully studied the photo and then shook his head.

“I’d rather have oatmeal. It warms my tummy.”

Oh dear, this wasn’t going well. “I’m afraid I don’t have oatmeal.”

“Yogurt?”

Sage shook her head. That hadn’t been on Erica’s list. “How about scrambled eggs?”

He shrugged as he pulled out the barstool and climbed up. “Can I help? I’m a good cook.”

That was refreshing. Perhaps he could teach her. “Sure.” Sage opened the refrigerator and brought out a dozen eggs to set on the countertop. Eggs had been on Erica’s list.

“They aren’t room temperature,” Ricky said, looking at her as if she should know this. “Scrambled eggs are best that way. Mom says.”

“Your mother is right.” Sage had no clue if that was true or not, but she was willing to take his word for it. “Do you think it will be okay this time if the eggs were scrambled cold?”

Once again, Ricky shrugged. “I suppose. I can crack the eggs if you want. Mom says I’m good at that. Once I accidentally got a piece of shell in the mix and she laughed and said it was extra protein.”

That was Saffron; Sage’s sister went with the flow.

“I’m happy you’re a good egg cracker, because I need a helper.” Sage brought out a bowl and fork, then opened the carton. Ricky leaned forward and expertly cracked open the egg. Two more followed. While he beat the three eggs, Sage brought out her one and only frying pan.

“We should add cheese,” Ricky told her.

Cheese. “Sorry. I’m all out.” Another item to add to her grocery list, along with oatmeal, measuring cups, and likely a long list of other things she’d soon need.

“That’s okay. We can eat them without cheese, but they won’t be as good.” The kid would know.

Despite Sage’s lack of any cooking skills, breakfast turned out well. She was proud of herself. When it came time to clean up, Ricky was a big help and insisted on putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“Mom said you’d need me to show you how to do things,” he explained. “She said you don’t cook.”

“She said that, did she?” Sage had trouble containing a smile.

He nodded and then cocked his head to one side as he studied her. “If you can’t cook, how do you eat?”

Rather than explain, she smiled and answered, “I seem to manage okay.”

Ricky appeared content with her answer and asked, “Can I play my game now?”

“Sure.”

He caught her gaze. “You need to set the timer.”

“The timer,” she repeated.

“For one hour. Mom has limits on how long I can be on my iPad after breakfast.”