She crossed the rug to me, and I entered her embrace, squeezing a bit harder than usual and lifting her onto her tiptoes. Her giggle in response reminded me so much of my sister’s sweet laughter that it almost made up for Tessa standing aside, looking as annoyed by my presence as I was by hers.
I released Rosie, and she smoothed her hands down her dress. Time on the road had left her weary, but her dark eyes danced as she fixed them on me.
“I had planned to relax this afternoon,” she said, “but since you’re here, we might as well get a bit of baking done, hmm?”
I’d come to catch up and visit, but Tessa excelled at talking and had proven able to dominate conversations she wasn’t invited to. Perhaps if Rosie and I busied ourselves in the kitchen, the other woman would get bored and move along.
Nodding, I replied cheerily, “Might as well.”
Rosie went to the adjoining room where the kitchen counters were clear and ready for us to lay out ingredients. When I passed Tessa still holding the scruffy calico, she cleared her throat.
“Hello, Penny,” she said.
I paused to give her a glance. “Hi.”
She huffed and tossed her long hair. “That’s better. I was starting to wonder if you’d lost your sight or just your manners.”
My teeth clicked together in a hard bite. After theprevious night, I’d resigned myself to getting better at holding my tongue, but I hadn’t expected to be tested so soon.
“Just my manners, I suppose,” I muttered, then shuffled into the kitchen where Rosie had donned an apron and was holding one out for me.
With Tessa at my back, I focused fully on Rosie. I had so much to tell her about mine and Kit’s journey out of town, and the cemetery, and how Kit saved me when I was sick. As much as that, I wanted to lament about the family dinner with Merrick and Violette. Though, I would probably leave out the part where my half-brother called me a deviant and made me cry.
Yes, I would definitely leave outthatpart.
Rosie opened cabinets and rummaged for the ingredients she stacked in my arms while chatting enthusiastically about the recipe she wanted to teach me. It had a winter berry compote we’d have to cook on the stove, and she was already insisting I would need to stir it to keep the bottom from burning.
I had made jam with my mother and Sayla plenty of times and was certain this would be much the same, but I enjoyed listening to Rosie’s instructions while I lined the bowls and bags of powdered goods on the wood countertop. With her own arms laden, Rosie bustled by. She smiled wide while she bumped her shoulder into mine, then giggled again.
I’d been fortunate to find this home away from home. Even Rosie’s parents reminded me of my own. As much as I enjoyed Kit’s company and our quiet nights together, I needed this, too. The sense of family allowed me to feel close to my farm and the life I missed more than ever.
I especially missed my father. Being far from home hadallowed me to deny the dark truth that brought me to Ashpoint. I could imagine my father was still alive and well and would be waiting when I returned to Eastcliff. It had only been three months since his passing, but so much had happened in that time.
It felt like I’d started a whole new life, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to lose my old one.
Rosie and I had barely gotten the flour measured into a mixing bowl when Tessa squeezed in between us.
“Rose, you have to tell him about the Oath,” she insisted. “We did a fine job for two women on our own, if I may say so.”
Rosie’s brow furrowed as she reached for a large wooden spoon. “It was rather uneventful, really.” She stabbed the spoon into the bowl, then motioned for me to hand her the sugar. “Nasty work.”
Tessa swung the calico in her arms. A devious smile crept across her face as she turned toward me. “We weren’t entirely prepared… Had to put the body in a stolen wheelbarrow. It was still warm.”
My stomach lurched.
Had they killed someone after all?
I looked at Rosie to refute the story or better explain it, but she busied herself with mixing and avoided my eyes.
“It was my father’s idea,” Tessa bragged. “He mentioned a plague in Ferndale. Said people were dying in the streets.”
“They were,” Rosie muttered. Her umber skin had taken on an ashen tone.
“You went to a town withplague?” I stepped back.
More than that, they touched abodywith plague, then ferried it from Ferndale all the way back to Ashpoint. The disease could have been catching. It might have spread.
Tessa shifted the cat to her hip and flapped her free hand at my obvious distress. “We wore masks. Gloves. Proper clothing. Burned it all.”
