“What are we swearing about?” asked Aunt Aggie, wiping her boots on the back-door mat.
“That you won’t embarrass Fred this evening.”
“The very idea!” Aunt Aggie blustered.
“Ooh, something smells delicious,” said Aunt Cam, coming in behind her and holding a towering cake smothered in a dark chocolate ganache that shone in the light.
Tonight they both wore floor-length velvet dresses. Cam’s was adorned with golden stars and Aggie’s with glitter half-moons.
“I made my special chocolate cake to welcome friends, old and new, to the family,” said Cam.
“Warren is not joining the family, Aunty. He’s…wait,what do you mean by ‘special’ chocolate cake?” asked Fred, as Aunt Cam gently settled the plate down on one of the dresser tops.
“Secret ingredients,” said Aggie, tapping her nose.
“It’s not a weed cake, is it? Oh my god, you didn’t spike the cake with magic mushrooms, did you?” Fred asked, her voice rising in pitch.
Aunt Cam looked at her seriously. “We would never present edibles without consent, dear.”
“Right,” said Fred, rubbing at her forehead. “I wish you’d got my consent before inviting Warren over for dinner.”
“I thought you’d be pleased we’d included your beau in our plans,” said Aunt Aggie, pulling a large floury loaf from her bag and setting it down on the board in the middle of the table.
“He’s not my beau. He’s just a guy I’ve been on one date with. We haven’t even kissed.”
“Well, there’s plenty of mistletoe around the place,” Aunt Aggie quipped, and Aunt Cam tittered delightedly and slapped her wife’s arm.
Give me strength!
“So, whatareyour secret ingredients?” asked Bella, loudly.
“My secret ingredients are vanilla bean paste and a teaspoon of coffee in the batter, and a sprinkling of sea salt flakes in the ganache frosting; it makes the chocolate even more chocolatey. But I do have a batch of cannabis brownies in the freezer for emergencies, and we still have a few shrooms left over from our last forage. I’d be happy to runand get you one from the cottage before our guests arrive, Fred, you do seem a little het up. Perhaps half a liberty cap would take the edge off?”
Fred rolled her eyes and tried, and failed, to hide her smile. “I’m fine, Aunty, thank you. And if it’s at all possible, could we keep all talk about the illegal substances stashed in your freezer on the down-low this evening? That goes for you too, old Aggie Escobar in the corner.”
“Who, me?” Aunt Aggie asked, exaggeratedly.
“Yes you! No regaling him with tales from wacky-baccy cottage. Warren is new to all this; I don’t want to frighten him off before he’s had a chance to get to know us,” Fred carried on.
“Wacky-Baccy Cottage,” Aunt Cam mused. “That has a nice ring to it; we could get a plaque made for the porch.”
“God help me!” said Fred, shaking her head.
Bella stifled a laugh. A few years ago, this kind of jokey conversation would have sent Fred into an angsty tailspin. She was always so worried about what Tim would say, or think, even when he wasn’t here. It was good to see her sense of humor returning.
—
It was joyfulhaving everyone around the table together. And if Bella was honest, she was grateful that it wasn’t only her and Liam, as much as she wanted to have him all to herself. She needed to have a reason not to throw herself at him, and having people around her was a good deterrent. When he’d arrived, a bottle in one hand and a bunch offlowers in the other, she had been so filled with longing that she had trembled when he kissed her cheek. If he’d noticed, he’d been too polite to say. He was casually dressed, as always, in jeans and a navy-and-green checked flannel shirt. His hands were rough and callused from years of wood sculpting and his face, still as handsome as when she had first set eyes on it, had lines chiseled into it by time, and she loved him still, maybe even more. She loved, too, that his once sandy-blond hair had turned almost completely gray, to match the short trimmed beard he had taken to wearing. Having him in her house now, she could almost imagine that he suited her home, that he belonged here with her.
Warren had brought two bottles of wine—which had endeared him immediately to the aunts—and Fred, though still on edge, looked pleased with his reception. Her face positively lit up when he presented her with a gift-wrapped box of truffles she’d supposedly been salivating over at the Cocoa Me stall.
Ryan had come bearing a bag of a new coffee blend he was experimenting with, plus a box of after dinner mints, also from Cocoa Me. “To sweeten you up if the coffee sucks,” he said, self-deprecatingly.
Diggory, Martha’s husband, spooned generous dollops of creamy mashed potatoes onto everyone’s plate except Aunt Aggie’s. “I’ve got some separate mash for you,” said Bella, “made with soya cream and—”
“I don’t want that vegan nonsense; I want thecreamcream!” Aunt Aggie protested.
“You are dairy intolerant; as it is, you eat enough butter toblock an elephant’s arteries, and you’ve only just recovered from the cheesy chips you had the other night. No!” Bella put her hand up when Aunt Aggie began to bluster protestations. “Don’t deny it, I saw Aunt Cam the next morning making you a tisane because your stomach was bad.”
