Trust Ulysses to join in laughing when he didn’t even know what the joke was.

“Soy tu ‘helper’!” he said. He pointed to his chest. “Ulysses help today.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said, tousling his hair. “What should we have?”

“Huevos rancheros!”

“Okay,” I said. “You know how to make?”

“Sí, sí!” he chirped.

“Let’s go get eggs,” I said to him.

I nodded to Niko as we left. He was busy with his charts.

* * *

If huevos rancheros is scrambled eggs with salsa on top, then Ulysses did, indeed, know how to make huevos rancheros.

* * *

“Okay, team.” Niko addressed us after everyone had assembled and eaten breakfast. “We are going to do two things today. We are going to begin restoring and cleaning up the Greenway. And we are going to assess our resources.”

Chloe groaned, “Awww,” as if assessing resources was a chore her parents made her do every Sunday morning.

“Alex, you and I will take an inventory of our power and security. The rest of you will begin Operation Restock.”

Niko took the top poster board away and he showed us all the map of the store. Each kid’s name was on a sticky note and was placed in an area.

Sahalia—Media Department.

Chloe—Pharmacy.

Max and Ulysses—Automotive.

Batiste—Toys.

The McKinley Twins—Home Improvement.

Me—(surprise, surprise) Food and Drinks.

“Why doesn’t Josie have an aisle?” Chloe asked.

“I have a secret project,” Josie told us.

“Oooh, what is it? What is it?” the kids demanded.

“You’ll see,” she answered with a wink.

Niko went on with our assignments—we were to restore each aisle exactly to how it had been before the earthquake.

Niko stood up and gestured over to the cart corral right next to our dead school bus.

There were six stocked shopping carts lined up. Each cart held a mop, a broom, a dust pan, 409 spray, Pine-Sol, paper towels, rags, and trash bags—lots of trash bags.

First, Niko told us, we should load up carts with everything broken and damaged, then haul it over to the stroller aisle—now dubbed the Dump. Then we were to go back to our aisles, replace the remaining items on the shelves, and clean up.

This was for nine a.m. to noon. Then we’d have lunch. Then rest time.

Josie nodded. It was clear she’d been consulted in this plan of Niko’s.

And then another three-hour work shift on Operation Restock.

Then the kids had free play until dinner.

I expected total rebellion from the kids. But they took their carts willingly.

Okay, everyone except for Sahalia. She took hers unwillingly and crashed off, spitting curses under her breath.

The little kids seemed pretty psyched to have a job to do.

“I’m gonna clean my aisles the fastest,” boasted Chloe.

“Nuh-uh,” answered Max. “Me and Ulysses are the team to beat!”

* * *

Jake and Brayden, of course, did not participate.

They had made themselves a little bunker in the Sports aisle and were busy drinking beer and playing laser tag. It was as if they had decided not to recognize Niko’s leadership.

Throughout the day we heard them shouting and cursing as they tromped around. It sounded like they were breaking stuff, in the course of their game.

Which was just what we needed—more to clean.

It also sounded like they were having fun.

But restocking the aisles was sort of fun, too, in its own way.

Niko taught everyone how to read the labels on the shelving units, so each Polly Pocket set went to the right space; and how to face the products out, so you could find said Polly Pocket set with ease. He was a perfectionist and asked for nothing less than total commitment to detail from each of us.

“Caroline, I see that you have these sheer drapes organized, but I noticed that the cream sixty-inch drapes are in with the white forty-eight-inch ones,” Niko would say.

“We were wondering about that!” Caroline would chirp from atop her step stool.

And then they would take out the cream ones and find where they went and put them there and it was better.

“Hey, Chloe, see how these Advil have this child-safety lid? They go right here. These other ones, with the easy-off lid, they go over here.”

“Whatever,” Chloe would groan.

But she would stomp over and take them and put them in the right place.

It was very calming to have this repetitious work to do. I could have gone on inventorying forever.

* * *

After serving the cheese enchiladas Ulysses and I made for dinner and cleaning up, I was nearly asleep on my feet but I wanted to look for Astrid. I took a plate of enchiladas, covered in foil.

“What are you doing with that?” Niko asked me.

“I’m leaving them out for Astrid,” I said.

“Good idea,” Niko said, yawning. “She’s on my list.”

Yeah, I thought to myself, she’s on my list, too.

I had no doubt that she was still in the store—there was no way for her to leave, and why would she?

But where was she holed up? Even after a day of cleaning, the store was pretty messy, it’s not like I could look for clues.

I set up a stool in the center of the main food aisle and just left the plate there.

No note. Too tired.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE POWER OF PANCAKES

I woke up to the beep-beep-beep of my Panasonic travel alarm clock. Everyone else got to sleep until eight, but for me and my little kitchen helper, whoever it turned out to be that day, it was up at seven. We had to make breakfast for the troops.

“Batiste,” I whispered to the sleeping boy. With his face softened by sleep, he looked less superior and judgmental. He looked sweet, curled onto his side, with his two hands placed under his cheek as if in prayer.

“Batiste.” I nudged him with my sneaker. “We have to make breakfast.”

He opened his eyes and looked straight at me.

“Stuffed pancakes with fresh berry syrup.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Breakfast. I already planned the menu.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do you know how to make that?”

“Duh,” he answered.

Okay. I guess it was a stupid question. Still there’s nothing like sarcasm from an eight-year-old to make you want to wring their neck. Especially at seven in the morning.

* * *

But he could cook, actually. He walked through the aisles like a pro, selecting Bisquick, a dozen noncrushed eggs, two bags of frozen berries, a brick of cream cheese, vanilla extract, and a box of confectioner’s sugar.

We found Niko in the kitchen. This was why I didn’t complain about having to get up at seven. Niko got up at six. Yep, six. Seis. Six a.m.

“Good morning,” he said brightly. “Batiste, you’re Dean’s helper for today?”

“Yes and I have the whole day planned.” Batiste turned to me. “We need the blender.”

As for Batiste, he reprimanded me once for not washing my hands (“Cleanliness is next to Godliness, Dean!”), but besides that, he was a great helper. In fact, I sort of became his helper as he whipped up the cream cheese and sugar in the blender and then mixed pancake batter in the KitchenAid and then created these delicious pancakes in a cast-iron muffin pan.

Who knew eight-year-olds could cook?

“Wow!” said the kids as they filed in, led by Josie.

“Oh my God, that smells amazing,” Sahalia moaned. She was still in her pajamas but everyone else was fully dressed and ready for work.

“Good morning, Josie,” Niko said, crossing to Josie with a cup of coffee. “You want some coffee?”

“No, thanks, I drink tea,” she said.

“Oh. Okay,” Niko said. Then he just stood there.

“Chloe and Ulysses, please keep your places in line. You know where you are to stand. Yes, you do.”

“That’s so smart that you gave them, like, a set place in line,” Niko said to Josie.

I felt for the guy. He was truly horrible with the small talk.

Josie didn’t seem to notice Niko’s awkward efforts. In fact, she didn’t seem to notice Niko at all.

“Max,” Josie said, moving away. “Everyone gets one to start, then you may have seconds if there is enough for everyone.”

“I made enough for you all to have thirds,” Batiste said proudly.

And we did have thirds. The only thing that diminished our pleasure in eating the pancakes was that every time someone said, “God, these are good!” Batiste reprimanded them for taking the Lord’s name in vain.

I had hardly seen Alex for the last day and so I tried to grab him after breakfast.

“Hey, A,” I said. “Think you could stick around for a few minutes after breakfast? I was hoping I could get you to look at these ovens. I can’t get the temperature right…”

A machine that needed adjusting might grab his interest.

“Sorry, Dean. But Niko needs me,” he said, hurrying off.

I was left there, wearing an apron, feeling like a middle-aged mother whose children have discovered the mall.

* * *

After breakfast I took a plate with three stuffed pancakes drowning in berry sauce and wandered around looking for Astrid.

Instead, I ran into Jake and Brayden.

They had cleared away a section of the Women’s Department and set up a makeshift bowling alley with bottles of bubble bath and a heavy yoga ball.

“Dude! You shouldn’t have!” Jake said when he saw me with the plate.

He ambled over. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like old beer.

“They’re not for you, Jake,” Brayden said. “They’re for Astrid.”

I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Aw, is that right?” Jake drawled.

“Well, I’ve been leaving food out for her. I want her to know, you know, that she’s welcome to come back.”