The next morning, Bethany awoke refreshed and feeling fantastic. She gave Beckett a brief peek and slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth like she should have done the night before. She was bubbling with energy.

After showering, she quickly threw on some jogging pants and her shoes. She whispered for Dougal, which led to hearing his nails clipping the pathway to the front door. When the two early risers walked out into the brisk morning air, Bethany almost changed her mind. This wasn't sweater weather, this was giving off vibes of frost. Not to be deterred, they headed out and immediately intercepted Beckett's older neighbors Desiree and Paul.

Bethany smiled warmly and waved to the couple. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while," she opened the conversation. Both of them turned to her and Dougal.

"We heard screaming the other night and hoped everything was okay. Is Beckett alright?" they asked noticeably concerned. He obviously wasn't there to prove it to them, but she hoped they trusted her positive response.

"Oh yeah. He's perfect. Still sleeping." The couple nodded. Were they waiting for a more detailed answer? Were they placating her? Were they going to get a well-check up from the police later on today? Dougal seemed nonplussed by the whole exchange and was ready to move on. Beck only had one or no word conversations with these people he lived around. A wave of the hand, a hurried hello. That was what Beckett had once called a Kind boundary, and once established, were pretty much maintenance free.

"Well, I'm sure he appreciates you taking care of the dog. He looks like he's ready to go." Desiree gave them a smile and took her husband's arm as they continued up the walk of the townhouse next to Beckett's.

"Right?! Well, see you around!" she let Dougal lead the way. That was awkward. "Thanks for the save," she whispered down to him. The two of them developed a steady trot and it was highly enjoyable from his perspective. By the time that they'd reached home again, Dougal was at a half-loll with his tongue hanging to the side and ready for a drink. It was really fun and she was able to keep a good pace! Bethany was doing a lot better too. Any misunderstanding with the neighbors could be easily cleared up with the appearance of Beckett...who was still sleeping when they got back inside.

She went into the kitchen, got them both a drink and filled his bowl with food. She then sat down at the kitchen table with her laptop and began typing. Bethany was excited about her list of new adventures. She also was thrilled that there were no more bins to put away. She thought about making breakfast, but had no interest in food. She thought about making coffee, but didn't want to wake Beckett with the grinder. It wasn't often that he got to sleep in. He had been pretty busy since he stepped off of the plane.

She decided to make him some pancakes. Those were relatively quiet. His pancakes were better, but he wouldn't mind eating hers this morning. It fit within the range of one of her solo goals, which was to make her Dad's famous blueberry pancakes. They were her favorite, but she hadn't been able to eat them since his death three years before, not that she hadn't tried. She bounced around the kitchen preparing the utensils, the bowls, the ingredients and suddenly thought it would be funny if she filmed it. After she set up the camera on the edge of this hanging spice rack he had that slid under the cabinet closest to her starting point, she smiled into it.

"Hi, and welcome to Silent Cooking Corner, I'm Bets Graham. Most of you out there are probably already familiar with the process of making pancakes. This recipe is nothing that will surprise you. It's definitely a winner in the comfort food department. Filling, and fun." She moved over to the bowl. "As you see," she held onto the glass mixing bowl that was at least 5 quarts. "It may look like I'm going to make a LOT of pancakes." she shook her head in denial. "Nope, just grabbed a big bowl," she winked. "And sometimes, size matters, but in this case, not so much. There will be no big science experiments in this kitchen," She shushed the fake audience. "We don't even need any fancy gadgets for this one. While it does call for sifted flour, you can actually do that with a fork, if you don't have a mesh sifter, or a hand held one like my grandma always used," She grabbed the container of flour and opened it up.

"This is an important step. When measuring dry ingredients, always spoon them into the measuring cup, or better yet weigh them with a food scale." Bets waved at the camera in a laissez faire kind of way, and got a bit closer to the camera with her spoon, "If he," she pointed down the hall to the bedroom, "heard me say this, he'd be pulling his hair out, " her eyes twinkled.

" He doesn't measure everything either. He doesn't always follow the recipe...and it's because once you know your ingredients, you get a good sense about them. How to measure them, how it feels and looks when there is too much or too little of something. Seasoned cooks will know." She winked and backed away..."So! With that being said, I'm going to NOT use the scale or the sift, because I know these ingredients and I know not only their quality, read the disclaimer at the bottom of the screen to test the age of your baking powder beforehand, " stopped and whispered, "But, if it is old, and you can't, or don't want, to run to the store, just use a teaspoon more," she smiled. "Experience is a teacher. Sometimes the best one." She scooped her measuring cup into the flour and sifted it in and out of the cup til it reached the level that she needed and plunged back into the flour another time. She tossed her pre-measured tablespoon of baking powder into the bowl, as well as a toss of salt and a spoon of sugar.

"Okay! Whew! That was 2 cups of flour, a tablespoon of baking powder, and a quarter teaspoon salt. Sift it all together if you haven't already. Now. You're going to need two cups of milk. You can decide what kind of milk. I've tried everything, even one cup yogurt, one cup milk. It would work with water, the taste degrades significantly. Don't scrimp too much on fat. Taste your food,"

She threw the milk in, and grabbed two eggs and stopped and looked at the camera. "Nope, and I've tested this enough to know it isn't necessary in this recipe because we added the bonus teaspoon of baking powder. If you are feeling extra happy and want to separate your egg whites and whip them to toss them in at the last bit, you do you." She cracked the eggs like the expert she was, and grabbed the ¼ cup of neutral oil. "This, " she looked at the oil. "Is also unnecessary, but for binding purposes, it can add to this mix," She splashed in some vanilla, and said, "You control the flavoring. You control the splash. Live your life." Bethany mixed the ingredients with a huge wooden spoon just enough to incorporate all of the ingredients. "Don't over stir. Just get them wet. No one wants to use up all of the reaction before they get it on the pan for all of the bubbles to do their job,"

"Okay, this marks almost the end of our time together," She held up a small bag of frozen wild blueberries. "Hmm. Usually, I would be dealing with blueberries that we had picked ourselves in July or August...but here we are," She stared into the camera. "Here we are." She patted the bag. 

"Some people like to do this step differently. I personally grew up with the method of batter, bubbles, blueberries, flip. You can tell me in the comments how you do it...but because these are mine....and yes, I'm using the frozen blueberries in their semi-frozen state because they hold their shape and don't burst and bleed all over before I even get them onto the pancake. I hate that, " she said.

"SO...batter..." She made a cute little circle with the rested batter, and patiently waited, looking up at the camera with an excited smile, "bubbles," she grabbed her blueberries. "Blueberries....." She gently tossed a handful of blueberries onto the cooking pillow. "Flip!" She quickly flipped the pancake. She waited a few minutes and edged the pancake off of the hot griddle and placed it on a waiting plate.

" I have to make two for each plate. My grandma was adamant about this, because even if you could only eat one, the top one always melted the butter perfectly on the bottom one. She also didn't use syrup, but granulated sugar on her pancakes, and she converted all of us. Syrup is for waffles. Sugar is for pancakes, she would say." She held the spatula up to the screen. "I'm going to finish these up," she pointed down at the cooking pancake, "Happy eating! That's all for this episode of Silent Cooking Corner. I'm your host, Bethany Graham, signing off..."  She clicked off the video on her phone.

Dougal heard the shower turn on and looked up at Bets in excitement. She was excited too. Breakfast was almost ready. She opened up the refrigerator and saw orange juice and cold brew coffee. Cold brew?! The perfect addition to the silent cooking corner. Oh well.

Beckett and Dougal rounded the corner into the dining area soon enough and his eyes lit up at breakfast. "Wow." he said. "How long have you been up?" he asked, coming over to give her a kiss good morning.

"I just felt like making Dad's pancakes...and here we are." she smiled. He sat down at the table with her. He knew the struggle that she had when they had attempted to eat them on other occasions and his eyes grew worried. She gave him a valiant smile and prepared to eat them with the perfectly melted butter and the sugar on top. Beckett was the odd one out who liked his pancakes, especially fruit filled ones without anything on them. Bethany called those pan muffins.

He waited for her to take the first bite. She seemed to take it alright. A smile came into her eyes and she happily took another bite. "They taste good, " she said. "I don't know what you'll feel about them exactly, " she lightly scoffed as she continued to feed her soul. Her chef husband was a food critic. She knew that he would be kind, but quite brutal when it came down to the truth.

"They aren't bad. You did a great job with texture and lift. The blueberries aren't overcooked. That's the only thing that would have tanked this affair in my book," he laughed and continued to eat them. Had he said that and stopped eating them with a claim that he'd rather just have coffee this morning, she would have known he didn't want to hurt her feelings. But, she could tell that they were to his taste, because he finished the dish and went to make another.

"I'll do the dishes," he looked over at her before turning the pancake. She was content. One day, she'd show him what really happened in the kitchen. For now, she just wanted to sit and watch her husband. Bets was also thankful that she cleaned as she went. If she hadn't, he would have woken to a mess that would have deserved awards.

Bets sat back from the table feeling so good about what she had accomplished. It was hard to put into words, but it was like she'd just gotten the best hug. She sighed and visibly relaxed as she leaned her elbows onto the table in front of her and linked her fingers together into a volleyball fist in front of her face and rested her head for a moment. He smiled over at her.

"You did it, Graham. You've re-commissioned the blueberry," he said with pride.

"I did, didn't I?" she replied standing with her empty plate in hand. "If I'm now Graham, who are you?" she asked, looking over at him.

"I'm the O.G." he said. She closed her eyes in embarrassment. That. was. Terrible.