Khalil turned back to his audience at the kitchen table. Excited by the comings and goings, Chloe climbed out of her booster seat and hopped around, squealing. Grace had taken Max out of his high chair to cuddle the baby on her lap. She looked dazed. “I think I’m beginning to see how pancakes could be viewed as an achievement.”
Khalil nodded. He noticed her coffee cup was empty. He fetched the carafe of dark, steaming liquid from the apparatus on the counter. On impulse he searched cupboards until he found a collection of mugs, and he took one for himself. Then he strolled over to sit at the empty chair at the kitchen table and enjoy the fruits of his labor. He poured coffee, first into Grace’s cup and then into his own, and he stretched out his legs.
“I was going to fetch breakfast myself,” said Khalil. “But I decided to drink a cup of coffee and enjoy watching Mundir mop instead.”
Grace had studied the children carefully when she had returned to the kitchen. Aside from Chloe’s upset at having spilled the milk, they acted normally. Khalil was right; they hadn’t heard the voice. She relaxed somewhat, but she hadn’t thought she would be able to set aside the disturbing vision and eat anything. Then Ismat arrived with the food and set a feast of exotic dishes on the table.
Pecan-studded pancakes with macerated strawberries and maple syrup. A superb quiche, cooked with bacon, leeks, black truffle, potato and Gruyère cheese. Russian yogurt with fresh berries and spiced roasted almonds. Cherry and cheese blintzes, and apple smoked sausage. Smoked salmon with chives, creamed goat cheese and a cherry tomato, and micro green salad.
Linen napkins. And milk.
The bounty from the famous Tea Room was so rich, strange and plentiful, even Chloe fell silent.
Grace’s reaction was just as rich, strange and plentiful. She shouldn’t have agreed to allow any of it. The whole thing was as bad as the talking-cat nonsense. Or maybe it was worse? She couldn’t decide, and the dilemma was making her feel a little too much like the witch Samantha’s cranky, disapproving husband Darrin from the TV show Bewitched.
But the fragrance of the steaming gourmet food hit Grace where it truly hurt. Still shaken from the vision, too tired and hungry herself, Grace took one look at Chloe’s wide, shining eyes—and reached for the nearest serving spoon to place small heaps of the delicacies on Chloe’s plate.
After Chloe had plenty, Grace served herself, took her first bite and was transported with delight.
Her enjoyment was helped immensely when Mundir finished mopping shortly after the food arrived and disappeared with a sneer. She was grateful when the hostile Djinn left. It was a little difficult to try to eat while he cleaned her kitchen floor.
Who was she kidding? She would have wanted to eat that breakfast in the middle of tornado warnings with smoke alarms going off. The fact that she relaxed and stuffed herself in Khalil’s presence kind of proved her own point.
Oh gods, the smoked salmon.
She gave Max his bottle, and he drank contentedly while she savored each bite of the rich, exquisitely prepared food. While she had accessed the Oracle’s Power only a few times since she had inherited it, she found the stories her grandmother and Petra had told her about the aftermath were true. She felt shaky, like she was loosely attached to the physical world. Eating breakfast helped to anchor her more fully in her body. The intensity of the vision faded, and the reality of her own life came to the forefront of her mind where it belonged. She set the whole experience aside, to examine it later. For now she focused on the children and the present.
Khalil lounged in his chair, a massive, regal figure, his presence crackling against her hypersensitive awareness. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His arms were thick, and his chest was wide with the appearance of muscles. He watched Chloe eat, his radiant eyes lit with an indulgent expression. He chatted with the little girl, asked her questions about her doll and friends, and from time to time he sipped coffee or chose to sample a bite from one of the dishes. Once or twice he glanced at Max with a slight smile.
Did his smile hold a touch of wistfulness? She thought of his brief, tragic statement about his daughter who had sustained some kind of damage and had apparently not recovered from it. For a moment he had shown an immense rage and deep grief before his expression smoothed over.
He clearly liked creating mischief, and he carried more arrogance in his little finger than anybody else she had ever met. But she did not sense any true malevolence in his actions. Despite his acerbic and high-handed manner, all in all he had treated her far better than she had expected.
Then there were the children. They were her anchor, her terrifying responsibility, and now somehow they had become a bridge to this Powerful creature.
Aware of their bargain, she said hesitantly, “Would you like to hold Max?”
Surprised pleasure lit Khalil’s hard face. He said, “If the small gentleman would deem that acceptable.”