frown. “But frogs hatch out of slimy ponds, not chickens’ eggs.”
“I know. That’s the point of the trick. It’s supposed to be funny.”
Emily gazed at Annie in a way that made her feel as if she’d hatched out of a slimy pond.
“Okay. It’s not funny. What if I juggled eggs and—”
“Frogs.”
“—broke
one.”
“Juggled
them.”
Annie paused, her eyes widening. “Did you say frogs? You mean juggle frogs?”
She started to chuckle. “That’s different. But if I drop one nothing happens. Where’s the magic in that?”
“It could go ribbett.”
“Wait. I know.” Annie started getting that quivery feeling she got when she was onto something. “I could start with eggs, and every time I drop one it hatches into a frog.”
What would the logistics be? She started working it out in her head, ripping spinach leaves while her mind drifted.
After a while, Emily’s voice interrupted visions of cracking eggs, hopping rubber frogs, ribbeting chickens, clucking amphibians…and came back to earth. “What?”
“What are you making?”
“Spinach salad. What’s the face for? It’s very nutritious.” She glanced at the bowl and saw a mass of tiny green bits that looked like used green tea leaves. She’d been so busy fantasizing about her new trick she’d turned the spinach into dark green mush.
A glance proved she’d missed not a leaf. Trying to hide her dismay, she opened her eyes in an assumption of innocence. “It’s like coleslaw,” she assured Emily. “Only with spinach instead of cabbage. You’ll love it.”
“Could I have a hot dog?”
Oh, Lord. Day number one, and she was a complete disaster as a nanny. “Hot dogs are junk food.”
“I’d eat it all up.”
She nibbled her lip. Mark Saunders had given her thousands of instructions on how to protect Emily with her life but no information at all on what he expected in the way of meals.
As though reading her mind, Emily said, “Uncle Mark and me eat hot dogs all the time when Bea’s not here.”
Oh, ho. So Mr. Brick Wall indulged in junk food, did he? It wasn’t much of a weakness, but it was something and certainly made him more human. “Tell you what. If you promise to eat the spinach slaw, I’ll give you a hot dog with it. Fair?”
“I guess.” Her charge eyed the bowl of green stuff doubtfully. Annie had to admit she’d prefer a hot dog herself. But she raided the cupboards and started throwing things in—raisins, pine nuts, chopped oranges and some kind of bottled gourmet salad dressing she found in the fridge. When she’d finished, her spinach slaw was really quite delicious.
Her confidence rose when Emily sampled it and declared it “kinda good.”
“Look how pretty it is on your uncle’s green plates,” Annie said as she dished up. The dark green spinach appeared designer coordinated against the pale green pottery plates she’d noticed at the party. She’d assumed it was the good china, but there didn’t seem to be anything else in the kitchen. It struck her as odd that a bachelor would bother with nice china, but she was beyond being surprised by Mark Saunders.
“It’s not Uncle Mark’s china. It’s my mom’s.” Emily corrected her in a matter-offact tone.
“I’m sorry, Emily. I didn’t know. Would you like me to use something else?”
“Uh-uh. I like this. It helps me keep remembering Mom and Dad. Mom and me went shopping and I helped pick the china. Green is my favorite color.” She fetched knives and forks and set the table as though it were a chore she performed every day, while Annie felt tears prick her lids at the thought of this poor little girl who’d lost both parents so suddenly.
But Emily seemed to be coping well. Apart from the shyness, she was able to talk about her parents, and obviously that would help her deal with her grief. Good for her. And good for Mark Saunders for understanding that she needed to use her china now, when it gave her