Waking a teenager could be like raising the dead advance warning and preparation were always recommended. His footsteps echoed off the risers as he climbed the stairs, his tread deliberately heavy and noisy as he approached Danica’s bedroom.
He flicked off the burners and unknotted the strings of his apron.
With morning sunlight splashing through the kitchen windows, Oliver slid a second batch of crepes into the warming drawer, stirred the peaches, and nodded with satisfaction. In just five short days, he’d be delivering his best recipe to college: his daughter. Oliver preferred not to think about what else autumn would bring, but he’d done that too, lying there in the dark, flipping crepes in his mind. But as August waned, along with summer, autumn would bring new fruits and new breakfast options. Last night, it had been the dainty texture of crepes and the sweet contrast of peach compote. He would lie in bed at night considering recipes, already tasting melted butter or the crisp edge of a lightly browned biscuit. Breakfast was Oliver’s favorite meal of the day.
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