Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Ruth-Ann mumbles something.
“What was that?” Simone asks, her tone overly sweet. “I know you didn’t just criticize my baking.”
Ruth-Ann leans over the cart. “Your pie crusts are all wrong,” she yells out. “And your cookies are flat.”
“But they still sell out,” Simone tells her. “You’re just a hater.” She ignores Ruth-Ann and focuses on Michaela. “She just likes to come here every day to tell me everything I’m doing wrong. I think it’s her way of flirting.”
The noise Ruth-Ann makes is one I’ve never heard her make before. It’s strangled and frustrated, and I watch as she turns and storms away, her dark hair fluttering.
Michaela glances at me, her brows up, and I shrug. I don’t know if it was flirting or not. I do know that Simone is right and Ruth-Ann is constantly here at Simone’s cart to bother her.
Simone just waves her tongs. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be back. She’s always back. Now, what can I help you two with? I can take an order for tomorrow if you like.”
Michaela turns back to her. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d have a use for buttermilk.”
Buttermilk? That disgusting juice that comes off the butter when it’s made? I try to hide my revolted expression. Simone is less horrified than I am. Her face lights up. “Like for pancakes?”
“Pancakes,” Michaela agrees. “Or for bread. I’m not a baker, but I know it’s popular in a lot of recipes. I just remembered that buttermilk pancakes are a thing.”
A crafty look steals over Simone’s face. “How much?”
“I’ll bring you a bottle tomorrow when I come to pick up a box of cookies and we’ll discuss. Deal?”
“I could hug you,” Simone says triumphantly. “Wait until Ruth-Ann hears about this.”
The women talk for a few minutes while I watch the line at the cantina. When it grows short, I put my hand at the small of Michaela’s back. “Shall we go eat? I think the crowd is thinning out.”
“Yes!” She turns to me, eyes bright. “I’m starving.”
And in a good mood, which I love to see.
We say goodbye to Simone, and Michaela promises to return in the morning with buttermilk for her. As we leave, Michaela leans closer to me. “I think Ruth-Ann isn’t the only one flirting.”
I’m shocked. “You think they are flirting?”
“In the ‘pull on your pigtails’ way, yes.”
I lean in close and whisper. “I have no idea what that means.”
She chuckles. “I’ll tell you later. What do you recommend we get here? I’m starving.”
We get into the cantina, and the smell of grease and ooli brew hits my senses. I breathe through my mouth, because the mingling of those two scents is not my favorite. I eye the crowd and what they’re eating. There’s a lot of food left on plates, and no one looks happy with their order. “Perhaps fried leaves? Those are difficult to get wrong.”
“Fried leaves?” She looks at me in surprise. “You guys fry leaves?”
“A certain kind of leaf. It’s pretty tasty with salt. I’ll order.” I want to pull her close, but it’s too crowded in here to do more than stand awkwardly near one another. The tables are clustered tight and the bar is packed. Most of the crowd in here look as if they’re the dockworkers at the spaceport, and only a few humans are lingering over their food. I note that a custodian is standing at the back, keeping things quiet. Our cantina will be better than this, I think. It will be a place humans can cluster, and not feel as if they are on the outskirts even on their own planet.
Well…I suppose it is Lord va’Rin’s planet but the humans outnumber him.
Michaela grabs a table while I put in the order and get food and drinks. I get two different kinds of mild beers, just in case she doesn’t like hers, she can drink mine. I also get a basket of fried leaves and a pot of plain noodles and return to Michaela’s side.
Her expression is cheerful and open as I set the food down, and she beams at me. “Going out was a good call. Maybe I do spend too much time alone on my farm. Just seeing the bakery stall gave me an idea of what to do with buttermilk. Perhaps I’ve been living in an isolated bubble, like you said.”
I love that she’s enjoying herself. I love that when I put my hand on the table, she automatically twines her fingers with mine. “I am glad we went out, too. Just think of how much time you are wasting at home, cleaning your dishes.”
She laughs and smacks my hand. “You monster! I forgot about the dishes!”
“As you should have.” I reach for her again and play with her fingertips. “One should not be so focused on work that you forget the pleasures to be had in life.”