But Leo, for the first time in his life, stopped overthinking. He looked at the squat, iron machine with its cracked leather case and its YIELD dial. He thought of Aunt Margot, who had lived alone in a creaky house full of clocks that all told different times. She hadn’t left him the waffle maker to sell. She had left it to him to use.
Sam shrugged. “Maybe it’s a brand. Like ‘Toastmaster.’ Just make a waffle, dude. Stop overthinking it.” malted waffle maker