As I approach Grandmother’s house, I catch the scent of wood smoke, and when I enter the clearing, there’s a cloud of it trailing from the chimney into the bluish-gray of the autumn sky. The creatures of the menagerie emerge from their shelters, watching me closely just like before. What do they eat? Most of them look as if they could subsist on vegetation and insects, but surely there are some carnivores among them. Do they ever attack and devour each other?
In addition to the wood smoke, I discern a savory fragrance. Is Grandmother Riquet cooking? She used to make an excellent stew, as I recall, with mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, onions, and chunks of rabbit or squirrel. Once she made a snake chowder that was surprisingly delicious.
When I rap on the door, I’m greeted by a merry “Come in!” Which is a far cry from my reception last time.
“What on earth is going on?” I mutter under my breath as I push the door open.
Grandmother is stirring a pot that hangs over the fire. As I enter, she sets the lid back into place and straightens, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s clean, wearing a fresh dress, and her nails have been clipped. Her hair is pulled back in a tight bun.
But when she smiles at me, instead of showing her crooked yellow teeth like she used to, she keeps her lips closed. “Sybil,” she says, with a brief nod. “Come to check on the old woman, eh?”
She speaks oddly, as if she’s trying to conceal the sharp fangs I noticed last time. Maybe her teeth fell out and she made herself a replacement set from the teeth of wild animals. It’s a far-fetched explanation, but it’s the only one I can think of.
“I promised I’d be back.” I survey her from head to toe. “You seem better. Did Herron come by?”
“Herron?”
“You know, Avis Marduc’s son. Marduc said he would send him over to check on you and bring you whatever supplies he could spare.”
“Haven’t seen anyone since you stopped by,” Grandmother replies. She shuffles over to a cupboard and takes down a pot of honey. “Did you bring some of that tea I like?”
“I did, along with a jar of jam and another treat as well.” I open the basket and take out the three oranges. “These are for you. I know you haven’t tasted one in years, and I thought you might enjoy them.”
Grandmother glances at me shrewdly. “Where did you get these?”
“From a friend.”
“What sort of friend?”
“Does it matter?”
“Rich friend?”
“Obviously yes,” I answer, with more irritation in my voice than the question warrants. I’m not sure why I feel so sensitive about the topic of Beresford.
“A man?” She raises bristly gray eyebrows.
“Again, why should that matter?”
She nods. “You’ve got a rich man in your life. Good for you. Take my advice—marry him. He can provide for you and your family.”
“You’d benefit, too. We’d make sure you were taken care of.” I plop into one of the wooden chairs. “But that’s a fool’s dream. It won’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I summon strange creatures. Because I have no dowry. Because I’m inexperienced, odd, and poorly educated in comparison to other women he knows. I can do a few things decently well, but I don’t excel at anything.”
“And you think this man wants you to excel at something?”
“I suppose not.” I frown. “He’s a devotee of parties and pleasure. Even if I were normal, I can’t imagine him wanting to settle down and be faithful to one woman. I couldn’t bear it if he married me and then touched someone else. I can hardly bear itnow, and he’s still practically a stranger.”
She grunts and returns to the pot, stirring the stew before taking a spoonful and blowing on it. When it’s sufficiently cool, she tastes it. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself and come take this pot off the fire. It’s heavy.”
I obey, using towels to grasp the handles and setting the pot on a trivet she places on the table. My stomach growls audibly at the savory scent.
“Get a bowl and eat,” Grandmother says. “You’re like a starved waif.”
“I’m not as skinny as I was this spring,” I say. “Skin and bones we were, all three of us. Just skeletons creeping into the sunlight. I even tried eating some of the new grass from the yard.”
