By the time Isobel returned to the kitchen, freshly washed with her hair down, half-covering her face, everyone had finished breakfast, and even Constance and Lewis had arrived, eaten, and left again. Kit was off in Mrs. Pan’s office—as she called it, though it looked more like a kid’s playroom to me—while Mrs. Pan herself stood at the sink with a handful of tools, ready to hand them to me when I asked for them. And me…well, I was stretched under the sink, trying to figure out what was wrong with the garbage disposal.
I had just forked up my last bite of pancake when Mrs. Pan had tried to dispose of…well, garbage, I guess, and it had made the most god-awful grinding sound before the smell of burning electrical wires and smoke filled the kitchen.
Good thing the new handyman was on hand. S
