Finn unknotted his palms and stood up to signal the end of their conversation.
“Well, I’m not sure if I want to come anymore,” Hestia said.
“You must come.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Now you want me to beg?”
]Hestia smiled.
“Yes.”
“Please, dearest, come to the dinner party this evening.”
“That’s more like it. I’ll bring my brother.”
Finn marvelled at how smoothly Hestia had gotten the better of him, and that felt right. She checked him. That is, she made him do what he should do. She made him more social, when he could happily lose contact with the world for days. They lent each other balance.
It was practical.
With the weather so fine, Finn had walked to the market–a cool four miles there and back. Finn loved walking, especially at the end of the day. More than walking, he loved exhaustion. By the time he made it home, his appetite would be something fierce.
Towards the end of his road, Finn saw what looked like two boys rambling in close proximity to his farm. Finn smiled at the way they hung from trees, jumped from them, and climbed again and jumped again. But as he got closer to them and closer to home, he realized that these were not boys at all, but girls in boys’ clothing. He soon recognized his sister, Freddie, and Marigold. There was dirt on their faces and grass in their hair.
Finn laughed as he approached.
“So you haven’t escaped from my sister’s talons yet?” Finn called.
Marigold looked shy and shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose she really did need the help, in addition to her instinct to be hospitable. We’ve been working all day.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Finn asked. Freddie groaned. But Marigold sighed.
“Actually, it is…where I used to live, I felt so confined. An open window had such an effect on me…but being here, keeping busy, outside…” Marigold trailed off.
A shiver went down Finn’s spine. Wasn’t he just thinking of that–the power of an open window? Was there some way that she could have known?
“We’ve ruined our appearance,” Freddie informed Marigold.
“Oh,” Finn said, “no one cares. Except Rosemary.”
“You have a good excuse, having run off in the night with only one dress,” Freddie said to Marigold, “but I’ll get a talking to.”
A cold silence descended. Finn looked sharply at Freddie.
“Did I…” she began.
“Oh,” Marigold said. “It’s a boring story, why I left. I’ll tell it, if I stick around, and I won’t if I don’t. Either way it’s not that important.”
“How can you say that?” Freddie asked.
“Freddie,” Finn said. “Don’t make her talk.”
“Alright, alright,” Freddie said. “Sorry, Marigold.”
“And Freddie, did you offer her something other than men’s clothes to wear?”
