Free Leora: Bride of California (American Mail-Order Bride 31) by Kit Morgan Page A

concocting?”
    “Pancakes.”
    “Mmm,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. “I think we should get supplies tomorrow. You won’t have much to work with otherwise.”
    “Yes, I noticed,” she said, plopping a spoonful of batter into the hot pan. So far, so good. She watched the batter sizzle at the edges and wondered if the pan was too hot.
    Theron took a spatula before she could and lifted the pancake to check. “Looks fine.”
    “I’m glad you approve,” she said, trying not to feel put out.
    He went to the table and sat. She looked between him, the coffee pot and the pancake. Did she have time to pour him a cup? Good grief, she forgot to ask how long to cook the things! She picked up the spatula, checked the pancake, then reached for the pot of coffee.
    “You have time, you know,” Theron commented. “Or I can get my own coffee.”
    Leora flushed red. “I’ll do it. I want to.”
    “No need to get angry. I’m just trying to help.”
    “I’m fine.” She poured him a cup, set it in front of him then folded her arms across her chest.
    “Leora?”
    “What?”
    “You pancake’s burning.”
    Leora spun around. “You said I had time!”
    “I was wrong.”
    She hurried to the stove and flipped the cake over. “Ohhhh, it’s black!”
    “I guess the pan is hotter than I thought. Make that, we thought. I’m as much to blame. Don’t worry, we can make more.”
    “ I can make more,” she corrected.
    He shrugged. “Have it your way.”
    Leora scooped the pancake out of the pan and put it on a plate. One side was wonderful-looking, the other … well, crispy. No, make that charcoal.
    She went to the bowl of batter, gave it a stir, then spooned another portion into the pan.
    “You probably should’ve put some more lard into the pan first,” Theron suggested from the table.
    Leora pressed her lips together. “And why is that?”
    “Because as hot as that pan is, it’s going to stick.”
    She blew out a breath and looked at the pan, then tried lifting the edge of the pancake. Sure enough, it was stuck and she had to work it loose. Thankfully, she managed to put some grease into the pan while she had the pancake balanced on the spatula. Theron clapped when she slipped the pancake into the pan again. “Whew!”
    She heard Theron get up. He came around table, wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek. “You’re doing fine. It’s okay to make mistakes. That’s how we learn.”
    “Yes,” she said as she eyed the blackened pancake she’d set to the side. “And from the looks of it, I’m going to be learning a lot.”
    He turned her around. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll be just as good as Mrs. Pleet, you’ll see. It just takes a little practice.”
    “You don’t mind if I burn your food?”
    He shrugged. “Not if you don’t mind if I burn yours.”
    “But you can cook!”
    “Eggs.”
    “What?”
    “I can cook eggs. Not much else.”
    She gaped at him. “But … I thought …”
    “I make good sandwiches,” he added. “Trust me, if I was making our meals, you’d get tired of them pretty fast.”
    She pressed her lips together and smiled, then laughed. “Thank you for confessing.”
    He shrugged. “Just being honest.” He kissed her on the cheek again. “Now, don’t be afraid to be honest with yourself.” He returned to his chair and sat.
    Leora studied him a moment. What did he mean by that? She shrugged as she turned to the stove – and realized that she’d expertly burned another pancake.
     
    * * *
     
    “… and this is Mrs. Tippens,” Mrs. Pleet said, motioning to a short, white-haired woman in a blue day dress.
    Leora smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tippens. I look forward to hearing you sing.”
    “Wonderful!” Mrs. Tippens said shrilly. “I can’t wait to perform this year! And to think I finally got a solo part!”
    Leora fought against a cringe. The woman’s voice was like listening to screeching train brakes.