She hadn’t come to work because of my visit to the orphanage, but she’d left plenty for us to eat. I took another sip of the bitter tea Mom had made, keeping my face expressionless, but Mom sighed.“Nobody makes tea like Danita,” she said. “I’ve got to learn how before we leave.”“You have to add the leaves just as the water begins to boil, Mom,” I told her. “And then turn the gas down. It’s also much better when you heat the milk before you mix it in.”Mom raised her eyebrows. “Maybe I don’t need to learn. You can be the family tea maker, Jazz.”I grinned. “I think I can handle more than tea. How about lamb vindaloo, chicken masala, lentil soup, fried eggplant, and pooris ? By the end of the summer, I’ll have those down for sure. And I already know how to make a spicy Indian omelet.”Now everybody in my family was looking at me in surprise. “So that’s what you’ve been doing after school,” Dad said.“Danita’s a jewel,” said Mom. “I’m glad you’ve been spending time with her, Jazz.”“Which reminds me,”
