Chapter 21: Where He Sits Me

Adeline's POV

On the third morning I made chili for nine people in a kitchen built for two.

I wasn't allowed to ask for anything, so I took inventory.

There were two onions, a bag of dried beans, one good knife and a pot with a dented lid.

Elias had left a note on the counter, in his small neat hand.

Studio lunch at one. Six people. Stay out of the way.

I planned for nine people instead, just in case.

At nine the board secretary had texted me from Larkspur.

The vote to remove me was withdrawn, and my mother had resigned her seat.

I read it on the fire escape and told no one, because there was no one I was allowed to tell.

By noon the apartment smelled like cumin, and the dripping tap I had fixed ran clear.

Ingrid came in at half past twelve with her sleeves rolled up.

She lifted the lid, sniffed, and put it back.

"You make this well," she said.

"I make it badly. I make a lot of it."

"That's the right way to make chili." She leaned against the counter and watched me. "He told you where to sit?"

"The stool by the door."

"Are you going to do it?"

"I'm going to do it," I said. "It's rule three."

Ingrid looked at the ceiling for a while.

"You know, I've worked with you for seven years," she said. "I never saw you follow an instruction."

"I'm learning."

"That's what's frightening." She patted my arm, once, hard, and went to move the lamp.

At one o'clock the studio filled up.

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