Page 121 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

Elgin talked Ash through the recipe for the lamb. At first
Ash barely looked at the bowl or teaspoon as he dumped in
the paprika.
“A little more precision there,” Elgin said, ignoring—or
not noticing—Ash’s scowl.
Then Ash measured out some thyme, basil, cumin and
curry powder. He moved a little slower, his face relaxing.
“And here’s the secret ingredient,” Elgin said, passing Ash

a packet of what looked like Shake ’n Bake chicken coating.
Ash eyed it before sprinkling some on top. “There you
go.” He slid the bowl toward Elgin and brushed off his hands.
Then he washed pots in the sink and pretended not to watch
Elgin as he massaged the spices into the raw lamb.
Ash disappeared as soon as the skewers went in the oven.
Greta knew then she wouldn’t apologize again for pushing

him into the kitchen. It would be like Ash apologizing for
pressuring her to go to school. It was the way things should be.
“Now, baby potatoes or rice?” Elgin asked Greta.
“I vote for potatoes.” Dinner conversation might be an
act-of-God disaster, but the food would taste great.
Greta and Ash were hiding in their room when Alice
arrived. They heard her voice in the kitchen, and Elgin called
them out a minute later. Greta hardly noticed the grilled
lamb arranged on a platter in the middle of the table. Alice sat

on Elgin’s right side, her arms folded on the table like a Mafia
boss. Greta had already coached Ash to stick to head nodding
or shaking. Alice probably knew somebody who could make
people disappear, no questions asked.

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