Under the weight of their combined stare, I felt myself shrinking. “Yes,” I said slowly. “An old graveyard nearby. He told me about it.”
“Now that’s arealman for you.” Tessa elbowed Rosie in the ribs. “Ofcoursethe great Kit Koesters would have a plan.”
The use of Kit’s true surname had come to rankle me as much as it did him. After reading his father’s cursed journals, I understood more than ever Kit’s desire to distance himself from his wicked heritage. He didn’t deserve to be cast in that shadow after working so hard to free himself from it.
“Well?” Tessa’s question stirred me from thought. “Are you going to tell us where it is?”
While Tessa stared at me in open anticipation, Rosie looked more uncertain. I wanted to help her. She had become like a surrogate sister to me in this place, a comfort because I missed Sayla terribly. But I couldn’t give information I didn’t have.
“I…” I hesitated. “He didn’t tell me that part.”
Tessa snorted. “Convenient.”
“I mean it!” I exclaimed, setting the mixing spoon aside.
“Oh, I believe you.” She nodded. “He likely knows better than to trust some bumbling recruit with his secrets. He’s a wise man. Shrewd.”
Rosie tried to step in as tension mounted between Tessa and me, but neither of us paid her any mind.
“Kit trusts me plenty. And how would you know?” I asked, curling my fingers into fists. “You’ve barely met him.”
Sliding off the counter, Tessa closed the distance to me. Despite having to angle her chin up to meet my eyes, shestill managed to look haughty as she said, “I’ll bet I can get him to tell me whatever I want to know. A woman has her ways.” She cocked one hip forward, almost bumping into me as she chased the advance by dragging her hand across my waist, then down. When her fingers cupped my groin, she gave a taunting squeeze.
Rosie bolted forward and slapped Tessa’s hand away. “Tess, I think you should go,” she snapped. “We can talk about the next Oath another time.”
Freed of Tessa’s grip, I staggered back, mouth agape and dumbstruck.
“I think I’ll pay Mister Koesters a visit,” Tessa said, sniggering. “He’s at the smithy this time of day. And, with you here, I’ll have him all to myself.”
“Go, Tessa,” Rosie repeated.
Tessa flapped a hand as she skirted past, donning her cloak from the living room rack and opening the front door with a scarce parting comment. “Don’t worry about old man Arkwright, Rose. I’ll have a better plan by nightfall.”
Snow swirled in as the door swung open, then shut, removing Tessa but not the queasy feeling that had settled in my gut. I brushed my hand over where hers had been and shuddered again.
Beside me, Rosie heaved a breath. “I’m sorry she did that. She’s bold sometimes. Too bold.”
I tested my hands and realized they had the slightest tremor. So, I rubbed my palms against my sides to try to still them. “Why are you friends with her?” I asked.
Rosie’s forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“She’s not like you,” I replied. “She’s awful.”
“I’ve learned it’s best to ignore her when she gets like this.” Rosie returned to the counter to spread the ingredientsand supplies into the space Tessa had vacated. “She talks a lot, but she only means half of what she says.”
I had a feeling she meant everything she said about Kit, and I was increasingly concerned about her plan to corner him in the smithy. Maybe the idea of flame-hot tongs and fire would force her to keep her distance, but Rosie was right. Tessa was too bold.
“The dough’s ready to be rolled out.” Rosie grabbed a rolling pin and used it to gesture to the bowl.
I glanced back at the door through which Tessa had departed. I should have told her to stay away. Should have told her that Kit was mine because that was what I desperately wanted to believe. After what felt like a lifetime of failed starts and fears of a future alone, I had a chance at happiness. But it felt fragile. A small thing that needed time and room to grow and could be easily trampled by Tessa’s brutish interference.
A lump formed in my throat as I took the rolling pin and smoothed the strudel dough into a long rectangle. The work should have been soothing, but my mind wandered while Rosie chattered and I managed not to hear any of it.
I meant to wait till the strudels were baked so I could take some home to share with Kit, but nervous energy kept me moving, walking circles around the tiny kitchen once they were in the oven until Rosie commented at last.
“Penny, would you settle down? You’re about to wear a track in the floor.”
“I think I’ll head home,” I said, tugging the apron off over my head. “I don’t feel well.”
