26
“Another note,” Kai said, plucking the paper from the door. “Says he’ll be back for dinner.
“Smells like another stew,” Peyton said, following the scent to the kitchen.
On the counter sat the familiar crock pot with another note next to it.
Put the bread in the oven at five. Dinner at six.
Beside the sink was a bowl with a ball of dough, a kitchen towel draped over the top.
Kai stepped into the kitchen, his arms full of books. “Clayton owns titles I don’t. We could find something useful.” He stacked the books on the table, the two they brought with them on top. From a drawer in the corner, he withdrew a pad of paper and a few pens.
On the table, Peyton placed a glass of iced tea, a bag of chips, a jar of salsa, a plate of apple slices, and a bowl of grapes. When Kai glanced at he
