“Miss Taite! That is you, is it? I wouldn’t have recognized you!” cried a familiar voice.
Taite stood just within the door of the Crow’s Claw Inn, feeling like a thrush that someone had plastered with the flaming feathers of a robin. Her arms stuck out slightly from her hips, stiff and awkward, while she offered up a sheepishly sweet smile to the plump woman rushing over to greet her.
Bertha Hopmead wiped her ruddy face with the edge of her apron, blinked, and then beamed upon the young woman before her. “Look at you! A new dress, aye?”
“Aye,” chuckled the raven-haired Taite, nodding as she glanced down to examine herself. The deep blue woolen fabric felt stiff and thick against her skin; a stark contrast to the well-worn and nearly threadbare comfort of her old, beige dress.
Mrs. Hopmead was looking on with warm approval. “It suits you, lass. I’ve never seen any color on you at all!” She reached out a hand to cautiously finger the sleeve near Taite’s elbow. “You’re doing well at the boarding house then, aren’t you?”
Longing to appear more comfortable in her new frock, Taite forced her arms down to her sides, ignoring the way the cloth seemed to grind against her flesh. She placed her hands together over her waist, as she had seen other, “proper” ladies do. “They have been incredible kind to me,” she answered quietly. “I never thought I’d be anything but a lame scullery...oh! I almost forgot. Look!” She leaned forward and gently tugged her skirt up an inch or so, revealing a shining, new shoe.
The portly matron squinted her eyes and peered down at the foot. “Bless me, that’s one gleaming shoe, Miss Taite. Ah!” she exclaimed all at once, interrupting herself. “That’s what’s missing. I knew something was off!” She waggled a finger at Taite and chortled. “You don’t have your cane! What is this? Some kind of magic shoe?” Her crinkled, brown eyes sparkled with mirth at her own joke.
Taite laughed along, and the sound was sweet, like a beam of sunlight in the dim, close air of the tavern. “Aye, it is! The cobbler in Bree worked magic, indeed. He measured my foot and leg till I thought I’d fall asleep waiting for him to be done with it, but it were worth it! See?” She walked in a tiny little circle, the skirt still hoisted to show off her new footwear. Each step was slow and cautious, and carried less grace than a woman without old injuries, but she remained upright, and her cheeks were flushed with pride.
“Well, now,” said the cook. “That’s a right fine thing, Miss Taite. And you deserve every bit of it.” She smiled again, then turned to start back towards the kitchen. “That doctor keeping an eye on your leg?”
“Nay, I have not seen him for some time,” Taite chirped, trailing after the woman with her careful new stride. “I think he went away somewhere. Suppose doctors have important places to go and things to do,” she added on, more quiet and thoughtful.
“Who do you have for company these days?” Mrs. Hopmead vanished through the doorway into the kitchen, and the sound of a kettle being filled with water followed. “That man still boarding? I remember you talked of him a bit.”
Taite shook her head, though the older woman wasn’t looking at her. She stepped past the doorway and stopped to lean against the wall, keeping well out of the woman’s way while she busied herself. “Nay, he went on. Said he needed to find good fishing before the summer were over.”
“Hmm. Well. I can’t say I’m sad about that. I didn’t quite trust the look of him,” said the cook, hooking the filled kettle over the fire in the hearth. “Too pale. Too quiet.”
“Nay!” Taite chuckled. “He were nice. He were from the south, he said. They have that straw-type hair down there, I guess.” Another giggle shook her shoulders. “But he’s gone now, so you need not worry, Missus Hopmead.”
The older woman peered over her shoulder. “Looks like it’ll be a lonely autumn for you, lass. Folk don’t travel through so much in the cold weather.”
Despite these solemn words, Taite grinned lightly and gave a little shrug. “I can drive into town on my own now, if I’m longing for noise and bustle. But, I don’t really long for that much. I like it here in Knotwood. I like the folk here. The peace and quiet.” She inched over to a stool beside the long table that filled the center of the kitchen and was covered with a delightful chaos of half-chopped vegetables, bowls, baskets of eggs, and other sundries. It would all become hearty meals for the tavern patrons later in the day, and something about the comfortable, domestic promise of it all made her feel warm inside as she sat down. “And I’ve got you.”
Bertha Hopmead paused in her movements. She turned to look again at Taite, and her brown eyes were misty. “Old woman like me isn’t proper company for a young lady,” she sniffed. “You need to be out with young folk like yourself. Find yourself a good lad and make a good home with him.”
Taite gave a little snort, but the smile that decorated her lips was entirely good-natured. “One day, maybe! All the lads I’ve dared to take a shine to have up and vanished, so...I think I’ll not worry so much on that for right now!” She pushed herself up and stood, looking entirely too pleased that she could perform this action without the aid of her old walking-stick. “Hand me those eggs and I’ll crack em into a bowl for you.”
