The Secret Ingredient by Stewart Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

a professional,” she says, glaring at me with those clear eyes.
    “Yes, obviously. But after I saw you, I got the job, and this boy Theo just showed up at my work, and yesterday I found this. It’s from the past, like you said.” I take out the cookbook, which I’ve had with me ever since I got it but for some reason have been wary of opening again, and show it to her. She grabs it and slowly closes her eyes. Then she says, “Where did you get this?” as if it could be a bomb that’s about to go off.
    “At a used bookstore. It was strange, this dog I walk, Hank—”
    She holds up her hand as if the details are beneath her and have no relevance to what’s really going on. She opens the front cover and we both see an indecipherable name, crossed out, and underneath, written in cursive: Rose Lane, 18, 1966 . She closes the cover as well as her eyes and says, “This will be important to you, but something else will happen. Today. You will be given a sign, or shown a piece of something larger.”
    “Theo?”
    “No, this hasn’t happened yet.” She opens her eyes, and her sincerity is gone. “You know, I really should be charging you,” she says as she hands the cookbook back to me.
    The elevator lets us out into the lobby, and I follow her, like she’s got my future in her hands. She turns to me with a hint of pity but also maybe envy—I can’t imagine why.
    “I’m sorry, I can’t give you all the answers.” She starts to walk away, then turns back and says, “We won’t meet again—not for some time. You will know what to do. Trust yourself.”
    The whole way home I look for signs. The old woman on the bus with mysterious eyes, the nervous man with the briefcase. Is she looking at me? What’s inside the briefcase? Is the bus going to get hijacked? I look out the window and smile at my paranoia. I look again at the name inside the cookbook. I see that it was published in 1960. I wonder what it would have been like to be a teenager back then.
    When I get home, the phone is ringing. It’s Bell calling from the bank, and he needs me to read him some information from his closing documents on the house. He tells me to go into his room, to the little desk by the window. When we were kids, Jeremy and I were never allowed near this desk. It still feels a bit off-limits.
    I find the documents, read Bell the information he needs, and hang up. As I put the folder back in the drawer, I notice the corner of a wooden box at the bottom. Bell’s handwriting is on the top, spelling out my full name: Olivia Anne Reese . I pull out the box and place it on my lap, contemplating. What could this be?
    I open it slowly, half expecting to see a small dead animal or something scary. But it’s just some pictures of me as a baby, and a silver rattle. There are some adoption papers from the agency. None of them mention my mother’s name. But the information must be somewhere in the world, right? Maybe in a dusty cabinet at the adoption agency in the Valley.
    Just as I’m about to close the box, I notice a tiny manila envelope tied shut with red string. On the back it says NORTH HOLLYWOOD BANK AND TRUST . I open the envelope. Inside is a small key with 74C on it. It must be a safe-deposit box. At a bank right near my adoption agency. I take the key out and turn it around in my hand a few times. I can feel my heart speed up. Suddenly I hear the downstairs door open, and I scramble to put everything back, except for the key, which I put in my pocket.
    I go downstairs and sit on the couch. I try to figure out what to make for Lola, who is coming over for dinner. But the key is like this small vortex of heat in my pocket. A sign, a piece of something larger .
    As soon as he sees me, Bell can tell something’s up. He’s just here to change and leave for the restaurant, but he keeps stopping to stare at me, as if he’s trying to figure something out. I decide to tell him about the job, now that I have it for sure. He gives me a