Bolted by Meg Benjamin Page B

I’ll be glad to drive you. But I need to stick around to make sure they have everything they need.”
    “I can wait.” In fact, he’d be glad to. He really wanted to see what happened when the Dubrovniks confronted edible food for a change.
    As if summoned, the door to the Dubrovnik family living quarters swung open behind them. Hank couldn’t see anyone, which told him immediately who it was. “Hey, Hyacinth.”
    The child approached the table somewhat warily. “Why are we eating in here instead of the dining room like we’re supposed to? And where’s Aunt Nadia?”
    “I don’t think she’s up yet,” Greta explained. “I just thought it was easier to eat in the kitchen, but I can set you up with a plate in the dining room if you’d like.”
    Hyacinth shook her head, climbing into a chair. “No ma’am. This is fine. What’s for breakfast?” She sniffed the air cautiously, then with more enthusiasm.
    “Muffins. And whatever else you’d like. Just tell me what you usually have.”
    “Usually?” Hyacinth gave her a contemplative stare. “Usually it’s burned toast and cereal. Do I have to have that?”
    Greta shook her head. “Definitely not. Would you like cereal? We can skip the toast since we have muffins.”
    “I’d rather just have a muffin.” She began tearing one of them into decorous pieces, chewing them cautiously. After a moment the caution disappeared, and she reached for another muffin. She gave Greta a beatific, crumb-laden smile.
    Greta smiled back. “Glad you like them. But I can still fix you some cereal or maybe some eggs if you want. And you need a glass of milk.” She headed for the refrigerator while Hyacinth turned to Hank.
    “Do you feel okay now?” she asked. “Aunt Nadia said you were sick.”
    “Sure. I’m fine.” He smiled at her reassuringly and considered taking another muffin. There were only five left, though, and Alice and Nadia still weren’t around.
    The door swung open, and Alice walked in, iron-gray hair standing in stiff curls around her head. “What’s that smell?”
    “Muffins,” Hyacinth and Greta chorused and then broke into mutual giggles.
    Alice narrowed her eyes. “Muffins from where?”
    “The oven.” Greta’s smile turned dry. “With the help of the pantry. There’s also coffee. I couldn’t find any juice, though.”
    “Never drink the stuff.” Alice walked to the cabinet and took down a cup, then headed for the coffeepot. “Where’s Nadia?”
    “I haven’t seen her.”
    “Aunt Nadia wasn’t cooking with you?” Hyacinth’s eyes widened.
    Alice looked a little concerned herself. “I told her you’d be cooking yesterday, but I expected her to be up supervising.”
    Greta shrugged. “Like I say, I haven’t seen her. Nobody was here when I got up this morning.”
    Hyacinth and Alice glanced at each other uneasily, apparently some kind of Dubrovnik secret code.
    The child reached for her grandmother’s hand. “It’ll be all right.”
    Alice stared at her for another moment, then shrugged. “Of course it will. Now eat your muffin. It looks good.”
    As if on cue, the door swung open one more time, and all eyes turned toward Nadia. Who looked…pretty much like she always looked, as far as Hank could tell. She had on the same flowered silk caftan that she usually wore, along with the fluffy, wedged slippers that clacked as she walked across the kitchen floor. Her dark hair was pulled up on top of her head in a bow, with a few wisps hanging loose around her face. Her makeup was impeccable.
    If she’d been forty years younger, he’d probably have wanted to jump her as much as he wanted to jump Greta.
    Nadia smiled, picking up one of the muffins. “Oh my, these do look good.” She dropped into a chair next to Hank, then beamed up at Greta. “Could you bring me a cup of coffee, dear? Everything smells delectable.”
    Hank had a feeling that all the people in the room had just let out the collective breath they’d been