“Just you and me?” She looked skeptical about that. I held her gaze, letting her know she could trust me about the chocolate chips. And everything else.
She turned toward Josh. “Can I borrow your fireman hat?”
He nodded, handing it over, too entranced by the movie to care.
Then Maddie looked at me.
“Can we put the movie back on as soon as we get back?”
My mother gave me a look. “Pick your battles,” she said.
And like that, I agreed.
The Violet Café did have the world’s best chocolate chip pancakes. They were made with five different kinds of chocolate chips. Dark, milk, white, bittersweet, espresso. And they came in a stack of five large pancakes that were impossible to finish.
Maddie, in a feat that I hadn’t seen since my own brothers would attack their plates, managed to do just that. She moved slowly through them, eating a pancake at a time, dipping each piece in maple syrup, in a dollop of powdered sugar. The waitress came over to ask if she was done, and she waved her away. She was a professional.
“I love pancakes,” she said.
“Are these up to your standards?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes,” she said. “They are.”
She looked like she might throw up, the effort of eating and making conversation too much, but then she rallied, and reached for her milkshake.
“Mum takes me every Sunday for pancakes to a café near our flat. The pancakes there have lemon in them. Lemon and lots of chocolate chips. If that sounds bad, they aren’t.”
I smiled. “If you tell me they’re good, I believe you.”
She smiled back. “These are better though. Daddy would love these pancakes . . .”
Maddie looked down, realizing something. Probably something as simple as this: I’d know that too. I’d know many of the things that she knew about her father.
“We could bring him some if you like?” I said.
She smiled. “And more for me?” she said.
“Sure,” I said.
Maddie went back to the business at hand, scraping her fork along the plate. “Mum told me that you were a nice person,” she said.
I looked at Maddie, surprised. “She did?”
She nodded. “She said you’re Daddy’s friend, like Mum’s friend Clay.”
She took another bite while I considered that. Michelle stepped outside of herself to help. Didn’t that mean she had good intentions?
“Clay took me out for my birthday. We were visiting California for Mum’s movies, and he took me to a restaurant where they have spicy lettuce. And lots of burger. Korean food. If that sounds bad, it was.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was all I could do not to reach over, touch her little face. “We won’t go there, then.”
She looked up. “Clay lives in California now, in Los Angeles. Near Daddy.”
“Well, then you have to introduce us to him.”
Her eyes got wide. “Clay and Mum aren’t good friends since he moved to California. But we still are good friends. So maybe he’ll come here. For my next birthday.”
Then something occurred to me, something I didn’t want occurring to me. I understood why Ben hadn’t wanted me to know the circumstances around how Michelle reached out to him.
Maddie shook her head. For a second I thought she had made the connection that I had. That her young mind was astute enough to know where Clay had gone and why he had.
“No,” she said, tears springing to her eyes.
I moved closer to her. “Maddie, it’s okay.”
She shook her head from side to side, the tears falling. “No, it’s not.”
Then she pointed down and I realized the depth of her sadness. Her plate was empty.
On the way out of the restaurant, Maddie ran into a pretty woman with thick, dark hair, wire-rim glasses. Fireman hat first. The woman was sitting at the counter, eating a bowl of oatmeal. A small container of chia seeds by her purse.
Lee. Why should I be surprised? Jacob had said they came here most mornings, but it was different to see her in person, spooning up her oatmeal.
Maddie raced for the door, sideswiping her, Lee swaying to hold on to her stool.
“Whoa there!” she said.
“Sorry!” Maddie said.
Then she reached for my hand, needing my protection from this strange lady who could yell at her, who could do anything. I took Maddie’s hand and gave Lee a smile.
“We are post-pancakes,” I said.
Lee laughed, throwing her head back. “Don’t worry about it for even a second.” Then she pointed at her healthy breakfast, picking up her spoon. “I wish I was post-pancakes too.”