Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (186 page)

As
usual,
her
first
pancake
was
inedible.
It
seemed
like there
was
an
unwritten
rule
of
pancake
cookery.
Her
father
had
never
been
able
to
make
a
good
first
one
either—Aggie’s
one
consolation
as
she
dumped
it
in
the
garbage.

Ten
pancakes
were
stacked
in
a
warm
oven
by
the
time
she
heard
Ian’s
chipper,
“Hi
,
Tav
’
!”
over the baby monitor.

With
a
quick
glance
to
ensure
nothing
would
burn
while
she
was
gone,
Aggie
rushed
upstairs
and
greeted
her
little
man.
“Good
morning,
sunshine.
Let’s
go
get
dressed
downstairs
so
Tavish
doesn’
t
have
to
wait
for
us.”

“What’s
for
breakfast?”

“Pancakes
and
eggs.”

“Oh,
be
right
there.
Can
we
have
orange
juice?”

“If
you
make
it.”

Tavish
grinned.
“Nice!”

Ian
hadn’t
soaked
through
his
diaper
for
the
first
time
in
weeks.
He
giggled
as
the
dryer
bounced
him
while
she
changed
and
dressed
him
and
tossed
his
sleeper
in
the
washer.
Tina’s
idea
of
using
it
for
a
changing
table
was
brilliant.
A
quick
wipe
over
the
pad
and
she
was
ready
to
go
.

“Ok,
guy.
Let’s
see
how
many
pancakes
we
can
get
done
before
Tavish
comes
in.”

Content
to
suck
his
thumb
and
snuggle
against
her,
Ian
grew
heavy
quickly.
The
first
pancake
was
sizzling
on
the
griddle
when
Tavish
burst
into
the
kitchen.
“Everyone
is
up.
Thought
you
should
know.
Where’s
the
pitcher?”

“Where
would
you
look
if
I
wasn’t
in
here?”

The
boy
grinned.
If
he
ever
learned
to
look
for
things
instead
of
asking
for
them,
she’d
consider
herself
a
parenting
success.
“…to
the
feast,
come
for
the
table
now
is
spread…
famishing…thou
shall
be
richly
fed…”

“
Aunt
Aggie?”

“Hmm?”

“I
hope
my
wife
sings
like
you
do.”

“I
thought
wives
were
gross
and
men
shouldn’t
bother
with
them,”
she
reminded
him.

“Not
wives
like
you.
I
could
stand
a
wife
like
you.”

“Gee,
thanks.”

“Or,
maybe
Ellie
and
me
could
be
like
the
Lambs—only
like
in
inventions
or
research
or
something.
She
could
sing.
You
should
teach
her
to
sing
when
she’s
working.”

Ellie
stepped
into
the
room.
“Who
could
sing?”

“You.
You
should
learn
to
sing
while
you
work
like
Aunt
Aggie.
We
could
have
a
house
when
we’re
older
and
invent
things
and
you
could
sing.”

Sometimes,
Aggie
was
astounded
at
the
disparity
in
maturity
between
Tavish
and
Ellie.
The
girl
smiled
indulgently
at
her
brother
while
reaching
for
Ian.
“Do
you
want
some
juice?
Tavish
is
making
juice.
Maybe
we
should
sing
about
mixing
juice
for
him.”