"There's pancakes and bacon, and I can make eggs for you if you'd like." The girl marked her place in the book and jumped down from her stool. Woman, actually—like the swimmer, she was about Lucy's age, although she had a fresh-faced girl-next-door quality that made her seem younger. "I'm Inga," she added. "You're Lucy, right?"
"Right," Lucy said. She came into the kitchen, picking nervously at the rolled-up sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. "Thank you for letting me borrow some of your things."
"It's fine, I have lots. I knew they'd be huge on you," she added with a critical squint. "I bet Bernie's clothes would fit you better. That's my sister-in-law. We can go up there later today and see if she can loan you some things from back before she became as big as a house—uh, I'm not trying to be rude, I mean she's pregnant."
While she was talking, Inga took down a big skillet hanging on a hook on the wall, turned on the gas stove, and got a carton of eggs out of the fridge.
"Can I help?" Lucy asked.
"No, no, just sit. You're a guest. If you're wondering where Eren and Dad are, they're out working on the boat. Eren said they'd be back soon, but I know howthatgoes, so you might need to go look for them after you eat. One egg? Two?"
Lucy became aware that she was absolutely starving. "Two, please."
"And how do you like 'em?"
"Over easy, please."
Lucy climbed up on a stool at the kitchen island. As she had thought, everything here was going to make her feel tiny; her legs dangled like a kid's. She watched Inga deftly making the eggs and felt envious. Lucy had never cooked in her life.
In fact, she was starting to realize there were a lot of things she had never done that she was going to have to learn how to do. Most people didn't have maids to clean for them and drivers to drive them around. She could speak four languages, she knew the exact amount to tip in every social situation, and she could pick a wine to pair with almost any meal—but she had no idea how to fry an egg.
Inga, however, didn't seem to mind, and served her a big plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, loaded with butter. There was a pot of syrup that Lucy, at this point, wouldn't have been surprised to find out was from the family's own maple trees.
Her uncle hadn't exactly been feeding her on bread and water, but he also hadn't gone out of his way to give her anything nice. This was the best meal she'd had in a while. Lucy inhaled it and went back for seconds.
Inga laughed and loaded a couple of pancakes onto her own plate. "You know, I already had breakfast, but watching you eat is making me hungry again."
"I don't mean to be rude," Lucy said. She felt her cheeks warming.
"Oh, no, you'll fit right in! Everyone in this family can eat their body weight in pancakes."
"I still feel like I'm freeloading off you guys. Please let me do something to help out."
"Okay," Inga said agreeably. "You can do the dishes; how does that sound?"
"It sounds great," Lucy agreed eagerly. She wanted desperately to be useful and help out these people who had been so kind to her, and more than anything she felt the urge to impress Inga. She had never done dishes before, but how hard could it be?
Inga ran water into the sink while Lucy handed her the plates and cups, and moments later she found herself confronted with a sink full of suds and dishes.
"You good?" Inga asked when she hesitated.
"Oh, yes ... I'm just looking for ..."
She had no idea what she was looking for, mostly just wracking her brains for memories of seeing people washing dishes on TV, but Inga laughed and said, "It's right there in the caddy behind the sink."
"Thank you!" Lucy said gratefully, grabbing the big yellow sponge.Yes, perfect.
"I don't know if you like gloves for washing dishes, but there are some under the sink," Inga said.
Gloves? She pictured a pair of woolen winter gloves, but when she opened the sink cabinet, she found a box of plastic gloves and realized this was what Inga was talking about. Oh, she had seen the cleaning ladies wearing these. It would keep your nails from getting chipped, she supposed. Her hands were already a disaster—she examined the dry skin and ragged edges of her nails ruefully—but there was no sense letting it get worse. She pulled on a pair of gloves.
Handling the plates was a little harder with the wet gloves, and she nearly dropped her first one, but she dutifully scrubbed them and found herself brightening as she saw how nice it was to make them clean. She didn't even have to ask Inga what to do with them afterwards; there was a plastic drain rack beside the sink with some dishes already in it. She had put three plates in it already, lining them up neatly, when Inga came up behind her and said, "Did you rinse those?"
"What?" Lucy asked, looking around. She had started humming and was, surprisingly, having fun.
"I just didn't see you rinse the dishes. You know, getting the soap off?"
Lucy stared at her in dismay. "Oh," she said faintly. Her happiness at having figured out how to was dishes on her own shattered. Feeling her cheeks turn flaming hot, she reached for the dish she had just put in the drain, so agitated that she almost dropped it when she picked it up.