“Auntie Odie! We’re baaaaack!”
I hear my niece’s youthful sing-song voice echo from the entryway of the house. Marsie had taken her along to the markets; they always go on Sundays, and I had asked her to pick up specific ingredients for me. I was going to make a honey-fruit crumble, but I lack many of the ingredients here at the house.
As I stand at the table in the kitchen, chopping up the hazelnuts (which were the only ingredients that didn’t have to be purchased), it is not long before I see Jennefer’s blond curls come bouncing into the room.
“We brought the fruits and the breadcrumbs, auntie!” She declares, hoisting up her basket with several dramatic breaths before she slides it onto the table. I chuckle at the display, brushing aside the towel covering to reveal an assortment of blueberries, loganberries, and strawberries (which are my favorite). Before I could say ‘thank you’ to the wee lass, I heard Marsie yelling from around the corner in the entry.
“Meatball! No!” And with that, all I saw was a blur of cream fur streaking across the floor before it leaped up onto the table. With haste, I throw the towel covering over the fruit once more ere the feline could get a hold of it. His black nose investigates the towel thoroughly before he attempts to pull it back with his teeth, and Jennefer is quick to scoop the cat up into her arms.
“You do not even like fruit, you wretch!” I laugh as I pull the basket of fruit closer to me and my pile of crushed hazelnuts. The cat wriggles defiantly free of Jennefer’s arms and hops away with his nose snootily held high, settling on the windowsill that overlooks the street. Marsie sighs in exasperation, brushing back her light hair before setting her basket on the table across from me.
“Has Ogden come home yet?” She asks, unloading her purchases on the table. Among them are a jar of honey, several apples, salt, the breadcrumbs I requested, and a jar of something else that I do not recognize.
“No, but I cannot imagine it will be long,” I reply as I offer Jennefer a blueberry, which she is eager to take from me. I smile as I see that the fruit is quick to stain her lips purple. “In sooth, I do not imagine that Ogden will be kept late today at the taxidermist-” I cast a glance to Jennefer as she sneaks another blueberry out of the basket “-as there has been much rain lately, and hunting has been certainly made difficult.”
“You are likely to be proven right,” Marsie agrees, looking out the window to see a darkening sky; Meatball did not look fazed, his jaws parting in a wide yawn. “I do hope that the rain lets up in time for your picnic, Odie,” she says with a grin while offering me the jar of honey. I take it with a smile in return, and then scoop the crushed hazelnuts into a bowl which I set aside.
“Oh!” Jennefer exclaims suddenly. “A picnic! Is that why you are making crumbles, Auntie? Are we all going?” She gasps, her eyes widening in wonder. I cannot help but feel a tinge of guilt as I try to word it softly so as not to hurt her feelings.
“Well, I am going with friends of mine…” I begin and notice the way her face begins to fall. I risk another look into the basket of fruit. “...but you did so well in bringing me fruit that there shall be enough for me to make plenty of crumbles, and the four of us can go later this week! How does that sound?” At this, I dare a glance to Marsie, who smiles at me and offers a subtle nod. I am relieved; though I have only been here a short time, they have welcomed me into their family, and I wish to strengthen those bonds.
“Yay! I’m so excited!” Jennefer squeals in delight and she is quick to wrap her around me in a tight hug. I laugh and gently pat her shoulder. She suddenly looks up at me again with her wide, brown eyes. “Can we help you make the crumbles? Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaase?”
“Well, I shall certainly not turn down the offer!” I laugh. “Let us get three bowls to divvy up these berries, and we can begin to till them until they are soft.”
Marsie and I split the berries into three bowls; I took the strawberries, she the loganberries, and Jennefer took the blueberries. I instructed them each to how the berries should be tilled with the spoons - soft, but not mushy.
I am standing in the walkway, laughing, and talking with them about anything and everything. Marsie is leaning against the wall, keeping an eye on Jennefer, who is sitting on the edge of the table with her bowl, swinging her legs over the side. I am unsure how many blueberries are being mashed compared to how many she is simply eating. Just as Marsie asks with whom I am going on this picnic, her lips curled in a curious smirk, the door opens and I am saved from answering.
“Daddy!” Jennefer gasps in delight. She sets her bowl aside and hops off of the table with speed, taking off to the door. The spoon with which she was mashing the fruit with clatters to the floor. Meatball takes this as his opportunity to dart over and lick the blueberries off of it, settling his fat body down on the ground.
“Jennefer!” I hear Ogden exclaim from the entry, and I hear him grunt with effort as he surely hoists Jennefer into his arms. I am proven right when he comes into view around the corner, grinning as widely as his daughter (whose lips are stained from the blueberries).
“Well, well, well, what is going on here?” My brother asks with a chuckle, though he notices Meatball underneath the table licking the spoon “Oh, who let the cat in?” He says in a grumble as he sets Jennefer down. My niece runs towards me and collects her bowl from the table to show her father.
“Look, look! We’re helping Auntie Odie make crumbles!” She says with such pride; Ogden glances to me for a moment; I mouth 'for the picnic', and he nods in understanding.
“And you are in charge of the blueberries?” He asks Jennefer, and she then launches into the whole story, beginning with how her mother took her to the markets that morning. Marsie and I return to our own bowls, though it seems she has not forgotten her previous question.
“You have evaded me long enough, Odelynne,” she says to me quietly, so as not to disturb Ogden and Jennefer. “I do not press upon you to share with Ogden or your father, but you can trust me. I want to know who your friends are.” She insists this so earnestly that I feel bad for not sharing it with her earlier.
“Piper Plumwood is the one who organized this picnic,” I say, and I note how her eyebrows raise slightly. “Are you familiar with her?” Marsie nods in answer to my question.
“Aye, she runs The Peaceful Peach. Her brother Fenley is a craftsman, is he not?”
“Of furniture.”
“I always mean to ask about him. I think we may need a larger bed for Jennefer soon,” she says, and my gaze follows her to my niece. I note that away to ask of Fenley the next time I see him, whenever that will be. I heard he has left for Ost Guruth at last, and I can only hope that Liffey greets him warmly, despite whatever contention was between them before.
“Who else is going?” Marsie continues, drawing my focus back to the present.
“A friend of Piper’s, whom I haven’t met; she says his name is Taraborn-” I judge from the way Marsie’s brows furrow in a bemused manner that she knows not of him either “-and Arthur Hazelwood.”
“Arthur Hazelwood?” She demands in a loud enough tone that Ogden looks over to us. I turn my gaze quickly back to Marsie.
“Yes. What of him? He is the one who commissioned me to do his portrait; we are friends, I think, and he was not averse to the idea of joining us on this picnic,” I explain as briefly as possible. I do not think she is satisfied with my explanation, but she does not press the matter. My brother, however, does.
“You’ve been runnin’ ‘round with Hazelwood?” He asks of me, reaching to grab a strawberry out of my bowl. I whack his hand lightly with the spoon, and crushed strawberries smear both against his hand and fly up into my cheek. Jennefer begins to laugh, and a smile cracks upon my own face. Ogden returns the grin, drawing his hand away from my bowl.
“I do not know if I would describe it as running around,” I sigh, checking on Jennefer’s bowl of blueberries. “A little bit more tilling here,” I ask of her, “but do get another spoon. I think Meatball has claimed your first one.”
Ogden shoos the cat out from under the table and picks up the spoon that had been licked by Meatball, and he sets it aside to be washed.
“Damn cat,” he murmurs under his breath before pulling out a chair to join us at the table. “In any case, Odie, I don’t hear great things about him. His family is wealthy and renowned, aye, but I’ve heard tell he’s a bit of a…”
“Rake,” Marsie finishes for him.
“What’s a rake?” Jennefer asks in an innocent tone of voice, looking up at her mother.
“Nothing you should repeat outside of this house,” she replies to her daughter, before looking to me. I wipe the strawberry from my cheek with an amused sigh.
“I appreciate the concern, I truly do, but I can take care of myself. Arthur has been no more rakish with me than I have been with him.” I am teasing, of course, but I do notice Ogden offer me a glare for implying that I would ever be so rakish.
“What’s a rake?” Jennefer asks again in a pleading tone, glancing around at the adults in the room as if begging one of them to cave and give her the answer. We continue to ignore the question.
“Do you fancy Mister Hazelwood?” Marsie asks me, and I hear Ogden cough as if he has just choked on his drink.
“Now you sound like Piper,” I offer in reply. Jennefer instead latches onto the term fancy, as she knows what that means. I am grateful she is no longer asking about rake, but not wholly so.
“Auntie Odie, you fancy Mister Arthur?” She gasps, her eyes wide as little girls’ eyes oft are at the thought of men and marriage. I feel my cheeks pinken.
“No,” I insist, though I know my blush darkens as I think on the conversation Arthur and I shared the night before by the hearth of the tavern, “We are just friends… I think. Enough of that talk! These berries are all soft and ready to be mixed with the hazelnuts and breadcrumbs! Where is the honey…”
I am relieved once I finally take the crumbles off of the fire. The sun had long set, and Jennefer was off to bed. Marsie was settling her in (and I heard her appreciate the mural on the wall, though it was yet to be finished, I was grateful for her praise), though Ogden sat out with me while I began to cut up the treats. I would only take eight, two for everyone going on the picnic, though we had made enough for eight more to take later in the week.
As I sat by the table and packed the crumbles away into a woven basket, I notice that Ogden is petting Meatball on his lap in his seat by the hearth, and I grin to myself. It seems that he did not hate the cat so much after all.
“Odie?” He calls calls out to me, though it is soft, so as not to disturb Jennefer.
“Aye?” I respond in kind, folding the towel over the treats. I stand, brush my hands off on my apron, and walk into the living area. My brother looks up at me, his brows furrowed as if he has been deep in thought.
“...Just be careful, okay? I do not want to see you get your heart broken.”
If only he knew that I was the one with the reputation back home for breaking those.
