you to look at these ovens. I can’t get the temperature right…”
A machine that needed adjusting might grab his interest.
“Sorry, Dean. But Niko needs me,” he said, hurrying off.
I was left there, wearing an apron, feeling like a middle-aged mother whose children have discovered the mall.
After breakfast I took a plate with three stuffed pancakes drowning in berry sauce and wandered around looking for Astrid.
Instead, I ran into Jake and Brayden.
They had cleared away a section of the Women’s Department and set up a makeshift bowling alley with bottles of bubble bath and a heavy yoga ball.
“Dude! You shouldn’t have!” Jake said when he saw me with the plate.
He ambled over. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like old beer.
“They’re not for you, Jake,” Brayden said. “They’re for Astrid.”
I felt the blood rush to my face.
“Aw, is that right?” Jake drawled.
“Well, I’ve been leaving food out for her. I want her to know, you know, that she’s welcome to come back.”
“That is so sweet,” Brayden said. “And here we thought the food was for us.”
“God, that smells good,” Jake said. “Do you mind if we eat them? I really don’t think Astrid would mind. I saw her yesterday, eating some trail mix. I think she’s doing fine.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want them to eat her pancakes, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot, either. Or like I cared.
Jake took the plate from me, and he and Brayden fell on the pancakes like they were starving to death.
“These are fantastic!” Brayden said, his mouth full. “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
“It’s all Batiste,” I said. “Turns out he can cook.”
“Jeez,” Jake mumbled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “What’s for lunch?”
And there they were at lunch, lined up with all the other kids. Sahalia was right behind Jake, trying to start a conversation with him. He ignored her but was pretty nice to the other kids, joking around and ruffling Max’s hair.
Niko walked into the kitchen and saw Jake and Brayden there and paused in his stride. Then he just picked up a tray and got on line.
Lunch was less of an immediate hit. Curried tuna fish on toast. The curried tuna had slivered almonds and currants in it (who knew they sold currants at Greenway? Organic, no less).
Batiste told everyone they would like it and, true enough, once they started eating, they loved it.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Chloe asked him.
“Church camp,” he answered.
While everyone was eating, I saw Niko approach Jake and Brayden’s table.
“Hey, guys,” Niko said.
“Niko.” Jake nodded.
Brayden just kept eating.
“Jake, I was hoping you would take on an assignment—Head of Security,” Niko said all in a rush. “I want someone strong and capable to check the store and make sure everything is safe.”
The little kids prattled on, eating their curried tuna and slurping their juice boxes, but Josie and I shared a look: Would Jake fall in line? Would he help us or were he and Brayden going to be a problem?
“I’ll think about it,” Jake said.
Niko let out his breath.
“Good.”
Niko took his tray over to Josie and sat with her.
As Batiste went around and gave out the dulce de leche cupcakes we had spent most of the morning on, I watched Jake relax. He walked over to Chloe and complimented her on her hair accessories, which were numerous. And he got Max and Ulysses excited about the idea of starting a little football team.
Brayden went along with Jake, but he seemed distracted. I watched him watching Niko.
Niko was trying, in his uneasy way, to flirt with Josie.
And, out of the corner of his eye, Brayden just watched.
The “secret” assignment Niko had given Josie to do, while the little kids were all busy doing their aisles, was to improve our living quarters.
She had gone through the store looking for the coziest, safest-feeling space in the store.
It turned out to be the dressing rooms. They stood in the northwest corner of the store, against the wall.
One of the things that made them feel homey is that the rest of the store had a cold, linoleum floor—but the dressing rooms had bamboo floors.
The ladies’ and men’s dressing rooms shared a common wall and shared the same layout. There was one big dressing room (measuring six by ten feet—handicapped accessible) when you first entered, then beyond it there were eight dressing rooms, four on each side of a fairly wide hallway. Each small dressing room was a paltry four feet by four feet.
I know this because that afternoon Josie asked me to help her take down some of the walls. Her idea was to have the little kids sleep together in the two big dressing rooms. For the bigger kids she wanted to make us each a eight-by-four sleeping berth by taking down a wall separating two of the smaller dressing rooms. There would be four of these berths in the ladies’ room and four in the men’s dressing room.
“I’m not really good with carpentry,” I told her as we studied the spaces.
“Well, you’re better than me,” Josie said.
“I bet Niko would do a really good job at this,” I said.
I don’t know. I felt for the guy. It was clear, to me, anyway, that he had a thing for Josie. I thought I might as well set him up a bit.
Josie rolled her eyes.
“Niko is…”
“What?” I asked.
“He’s so uptight and formal. He’s exhausting,” she answered.
“Yeah, I guess I could see that,” I said.
“So maybe we cut this panel out here?” Josie said, tapping on the wall. “We each want privacy and also to be able to stretch out.”
“Have you guys seen Jake?” came Brayden’s voice.
We stepped out of the dressing rooms.
Brayden was standing there, his hands jammed in his pockets. His dark hair was falling in his eyes and he looked down at his feet.
“We haven’t seen him,” Josie said.
“Maybe he decided to start doing his job,” I said, going back into the dressing rooms.
“What are you guys doing in there?” I heard Brayden ask Josie.
“We’re taking down some walls to make sleeping areas for everyone.”
“Want some help?” Brayden said. “I used to frame houses in the summer, so I know how to handle a hammer.”
It was so alien to me, the concept that Brayden would want to help—be offering to help—that I actually had to peek back out to see if he was serious.
He was.
He was just standing there, with his head hung, like a sad puppy.
