Pancakes & Pandemonium - Culinary Competition Mystery #6

Chapter 14

(Amy)

Amy hummed "I Will Survive" as she stirred the pot of oatmeal. The power outage had become a pantry cooking extreme challenge. Even though the generator was keeping everything cold in the refrigerator and freezer, she was out of many fresh ingredients like eggs and milk. There was plenty of food left in the house though. She just needed to be creative and use shelf-stable ingredients.

The oatmeal had canned coconut milk for the liquid. Then to amp up the natural sweetness, she added shredded coconut, pecans, and a mashed banana—the last one from the bunch she had bought the week before. A dash of freshly grated nutmeg finished it off nicely. At least it did for her. She wasn't sure what her mother would think of the dressed-up oatmeal. Over dinner the previous night, she had declared that she didn't like fancy food. When Amy had asked what she meant by fancy, her mother had explained that she didn't like to eat things that had a bunch of ingredients. Oatmeal with raisins would've probably been adventurous enough for her.

As she stirred the bubbling oatmeal, Amy wondered why she was worrying about whether her mother would like breakfast or not. Because she was tired, cranky, and at the moment—frozen. It was the coldest morning yet since the storm. Typical Michigan winter weather for that time of year, which meant only polar bears would enjoy the temperature.

There were a lot of things that were making her grumpy beyond turning into a popsicle to make breakfast. Facing another goosebump–producing, camping-style shower. The still unanswered questions about why her mother had decided to visit and how long she was planning to stay. Her mom's attempt to make Amy think that Alex was having an affair with Jolie. And the sore spot in her back from a lump in the mattress that was lying on the floor, instead of a box spring and bed frame. She had a lot of things to be grouchy about. Her usual therapy of cooking to relieve stress wasn't working. She was making quick-cooking oatmeal, and her toes still felt as though they were on the brink of becoming frostbitten.

Amy used an oven mitt to carry the saucepan from the grill across the patio, through the house, and into the kitchen. A cloud of steam trailed behind her from the hot oatmeal. The company that managed the natural gas lines had left a note on the front door. They were working as quickly as possible, but it would still be at least two days before all of the lines would be repaired. That meant more meals cooked on the propane grill. In arctic-like conditions.

Once the breakfast porridge was set on the table and tightly covered to keep it warm, she went to find Alex. When Amy walked into the living room, her mother was burrowed completely under the blankets on her bed. Quiet snores came from under the covers. Amy stared at the mattress that she and Alex slept on. There was a visible lump that she had rolled onto several times during the night. Had Pogo hidden one of his toys underneath the memory foam? She lifted the side of the mattress and found the source of her discomfort.

An empty bottle of dark rum.

She glanced at her slumbering mother as she picked up the bottle. When Amy was a child, her mother had openly guzzled beers and cocktails in front of her, with no apparent discretion. Now that they were both adults, she was secretly imbibing and hiding the evidence. Why? There were so many whys concerning her mother that it made Amy dizzy. Nothing about her mother's visit made sense.

Back in the kitchen, she tossed the bottle in the trash as Alex's footsteps came bounding down the stairs. She needed to talk to him, but it wasn't the right time. The discussion could wait until her mother wasn't in a position where she could eavesdrop by pretending to be asleep. For the time being, they needed to eat and get ready to leave. There were people who still needed help.