42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions
42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions.
ra tucked Cora into bed Thursday night, smoothing back her daughter’s dark curls. She hade straight from the office, still in her formal attire, but Cora didn’t seem to mind.
“Will you make pancakes tomorrow?” Cora asked sleepily, her small fingers clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.
“Of course, ra promised, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever my Coco wants.”
The next morning, true to her word, ra was in the kitchen early. She whisked the pancake batter with practiced ease, adding a dash of cinnamon–Cora’s favorite. The familiar routine feltforting after weeks of hotel living and takeout meals.
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Cora bounded into the kitchen, still in her pink pajamas. “You’re really making them!”
“I promised, didn’t I?” ra smiled, pouring batter onto the hot griddle.
She spent Friday making all of Cora’s favorite foods. For lunch, grilled cheese with the crusts cut off. For dinner, chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs with sweet potato. fries. Simple meals that made her daughter’s eyes light up.
That evening, ra’s phone rang. It was her grandmother, ra Bellweather.
“ra, dear, I was hoping you might bring Cora over tomorrow. It’s been too long since I’ve <b>seen </b>my great–granddaughter.”
ra <b>nced </b>at Cora, who was engrossed in a cartoon. “We’d love to, Grandmother.
Would dinner work?”
“Perfect,” ra replied. “And do stay the night. Your old room is always ready.”
Saturday afternoon, ra packed a small overnight bag for herself and Cora. The Vance family home wasn’t far–a thirty–minute drive from the Thorne estate. As they pulled into the long, tree–lined driveway, Cora pressed her face against the car window.
“Is Great–Grandma making cookies?<b>” </b>she asked hopefully.
raughed. “Probably. She always does when you visit.”
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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions
ra was waiting on the front porch, elegant as always in a cashmere sweater despite her eighty years. Her face lit up when she spotted Cora.
“There’s my little princess!” she eximed as Cora ran up the steps and into her arms.
“Great–Grandma! Did you make cookies?”
“Double chocte chip, just for you,” ra confirmed, her eyes twinkling. She looked over Cora’s head at ra. “And how are you, my dear?”
“I’m fine, Grandmother, ra replied automatically.
ra’s shrewd gaze suggested she didn’t quite believe it, but she simply said, “Well,e in. Dinner will be ready soon<b>.</b><b>” </b>
The evening passed pleasantly. ra had prepared a feast–roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans with almonds. Cora charmed her great–grandmother with stories about school and her karate lessons, carefully omitting any mention of Vivienne or the tension at home<b>. </b>
After dinner, they yed board games in the living room until Cora’s eyelids began to droop. ra carried her upstairs to the guest room they would share and tucked her in, just as she had the night before..
“Sweet dreams, Coco, she whispered, but Cora was already asleep.
ra rejoined her grandmother in the living room. ra handed her a ss of wine without asking, and they sat infortable silence for a moment.
“You seem different, ra observed finally. “More at peace.”
ra took a sip of wine, considering. “I think I am. At least, I’m getting there.”
“Good,” ra nodded. “You deserve happiness, ra. You always have.”
The next morning, ra woke early. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting at warm glow across the guest room. <b>Cora </b>was still fast asleep, her dark curls spread across the pillow.
ra slipped out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She found all the ingredients she needed and began mixing pancake batter, just as she had done on Friday. There was something therapeutic about the simple act of cooking–measuring, mixing, creating something
With her own hands.
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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions
She was flipping the first batch when ra appeared, wrapped in a silk robe.
“You’re up early” her grandmothermented, heading straight for the coffee pot.
“Old habits,” ra replied with a small smile. “I wanted to make breakfast before Cora wakes up.”
ra watched her granddaughter expertly flip a pancake. “You never used to enjoy cooking this much. I remember when you could barely boil water.”
“Things change, ra said simply. “I found I like having control over at least one small part of my day.”
ra nodded, understanding more than ra had said. “The coffee’s good. Did you
make it?”
“Yes, I found your favorite beans in the pantry.”
“Another new skill,” ra observed. “Damien Thorne’s loss is clearly the culinary world’s gain<b>.” </b>
raughed, the sound surprising even herself. It felt good tough about Damien, rather than cry.
A small noise caught her attention. Cora had left her tablet on the kitchen counter the night before, and it had just lit up with a notification. ra nced at it out of habit.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the message preview:
*From Vivienne: Let’s keep this our little secret. Meet me at 11 today at the park. Don’t tell your mom.*
ra carefully kept her expression neutral, turning back to the pancakes as if she hadn’t seen anything. A momentter, Cora padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead, ra greeted her. “Pancakes are almost ready.”
Cora’s eyes widened when she spotted her tablet on the counter. She rushed over and snatched it up, quickly tapping at the screen to clear the notification.
“Everything okay?” ra asked casually.
“Uh–huh,” Cora nodded too quickly. <b>“</b>Just a game update”
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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions.
ra exchanged a nce with ra, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They sat down to breakfast, Cora devouring her pancakes with the enthusiasm only a
seven–year–old could muster.
“These are even better than Friday’s!” she dered, maple syrup dripping down her chin.
ra dabbed at the syrup with a napkin. “Your mother has be quite the chef.”
“Mom makes the best pancakes,” Cora agreed. Then, as if remembering something important, she put down her fork. “Um, Mom? Dad’sing back today.”
ra kept her expression carefully neutral. “Oh? I thought he wasn’t due back until Tuesday.”
“He, um, changed his ns,” Cora said, avoiding eye contact. “He’s picking me up today.”
“What time?” ra asked.
Cora hesitated. “Around eleven, I think<b>.</b>”
It was a lie. A clumsy, transparent lie from a child who had never had to be deceptive before. The realization stung more than ra expected–not just that Cora was lying, but that she was doing it for Vivienne.
“Well, that’s perfect timing,” ra said smoothly. “I’ll drop you off on my way back to the hotel.”
Panic shed across Cora’s face. “No! i mean, you don’t have to. Dad said he’d send Martin to get me.”
“Martin will be picking you up here?” ra interjected, her tone sharp. No love was lost between ra Bellweather and the Thorne family chauffeur, who had once kept her waiting for an hour at a charity function.
“Yes,” Cora said, relief evident in her voice. “So Mom can stay here with Great–Grandma. You guys can have a nice day together.”
you,
ra’s eyes met ra’s over Cora’s head. The older woman’s expression softened. “That would be lovely, wouldn’t it, ra? We haven’t had a proper visit in too long”
ra recognized her grandmother’s attempt to give her an out–a way to avoid what
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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions
would clearly be an ufortable confrontation. “Yes, that sounds nice,” she agreed. “I’d love to stay a bit longer.”
Cora beamed, clearly relieved her n was working. “Great! I’ll go get ready.”
As soon as Cora left the kitchen, ra leaned forward. “What was that about?”
“Vivienne sent her a message,” ra exined quietly. “She’s meeting her at the park at eleven. That’s why she lied about Damiening back.”
ra’s expression darkened. “That woman has no boundaries. Using a child for her games–it’s despicable.”
“I know,” ra sighed. “But confronting Cora would only make things worse right now. She’s clearly excited about this secret meeting”
“<b>So </b>you’re just going to let her go?” ra asked, concerned.
“I’ll call Martin myself and ask him to pick her up,” ra decided. “He’s discreet. He won’t tell her I know what’s really happening.”
ra studied her granddaughter’s face. “You’ve changed, ra. Six months ago, you would have been devastated by this.”
“Six months ago, I still believed I could make Damien love me,” ra replied simply.
“Now I know better.”
At ten–thirty, Cora appeared in the living room, dressed in her favorite blue dress and with her hair carefully brushed. “I’m ready!”
“You look beautiful,” ra said, genuinely impressed by her daughter’s efforts. “Let me just make a quick call to confirm Martin is on his way.”
She stepped into the kitchen and dialed the Thorne household, speaking briefly with the butler. When she returned, Cora was fidgeting with her bracelet, a clear sign of
nervousness.
“Martin will be here at ten–forty–five,” ra informed her. “Right on time.”
“Great!” Cora’s voice was a little too high–pitched. “So you’re staying with
Great–Grandma?”
“Yes, we have a lot to catch up on,” ra confirmed, keeping her tone light.
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42 Pancakes and Quiet Deceptions
ra watched this exchange with interest, her sharp eyes missing nothing. When Martin’s sleek ck car finally pulled into the driveway, Cora practically flew to the door.
“Bye, Mom! Bye, Great–Grandma!” she called, barely waiting for their responses before dashing out.
ra moved to stand beside ra at the window, watching as Martin opened the car door for Cora. “You’re not going to see her off?”
“No,” ra said quietly. “I think it’s better this way.”
ra studied her granddaughter’s face, finding a strange mix of sadness and
determination there. “Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “But it’s not like you to be so… detached.
ra watched the car pull away, carrying her daughter to a secret meeting with the woman who had helped destroy her marriage. Yet she felt oddly calm, even as her heart ached. “I’m learning to pick my battles, Grandmother. And this one isn’t worth fighting. Not yet.”
ra put her arm around ra’s shoulders, a rare show of physical affection from the usually reserved woman. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for, my dear.”
“I had to be,” ra replied simply, turning away from the window as Martin’s car disappeared from view.
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