At the sound of a string of sneezes, the three in the kitchen turned around to see Cassandra clad in red plaid footie PJs. The thick bathrobe Simon gave her dragged on the floor and hung off her shoulders. Wet tendrils of unruly hair clung to her rosy pink cheeks and neck and she carried a half-full tissue box. She looked adorable, albeit miserably sick.
Ronnie jumped up from his stool at the breakfast bar and pulled out a chair for Cassandra to sit at the table. “Hey, Cassie, have a nice bath? Ya hungry? Want some cookies or maybe popcorn?” he said. “Or ice cream for your sore throat?”
“I don’t dare have ice cream even though I’d love some,” Cassandra said, shaking her head. “It’ll bring back the chills and make me cough even more.”
“Well, I was gonna make you some nice, hot peppermint tea like you said you wanted, but Simon’s making some witch’s brew for you instead,” Sophie said.
“Witch’s brew?” Cassie said, making a face.