“Thank you, this looks delicious,” I tell him honestly. I cut a small bite of the omelet with my fork. It tastes as good as it looks.
“The vegetables in your crisper looked so fresh. I had a hard time choosing what to use,” he remarks.
“Probably from Taurus Farms. You might… not remember them,” I say unthinking, my correction sounding awkward.
“If they were at the farmers market, I probably would,” he answers smoothly.
“They are. It’s still going,” I confirm.
“A nice tradition in this town,” he observes around a bite of food.
My eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. This sounds like small talk.
“I guess that means you don’t have them in your settlement?” I venture to ask.
“Ah, no. Our market is a little different,” he answers enigmatically.
I shrug, unsurprised by his non-answer. “That’s too bad.”
Both cats laze next to each other in a sunny spot on the floor, idly watching us, like it’s been an uneventful morning. I’d reprimand them if I thought it would do any good. I know better. Instead, I roll my eyes at them.
“Those two are more trouble than they’re worth sometimes,” I say without any real teeth, pointing my fork in their direction.
“It looks like they wore themselves out playing with that eggshell before I took it away from them,” he says with a frown, drawing my eyes to the shape of his lips, a dangerous place to look.
Graceful clip-clopping down the stairs announces Cyrinda’s imminent arrival. Luckily, there’s some food left in the pans for her. She saunters in, already dressed and made up for the day like she has big plans.
She eyes the sausage and eggs with displeasure. “Is this all there is ready to eat? Well, I wanted to go downtown anyway. Get a shot of espresso. Maybe a croissant,” she says flippantly as she walks over to the table.
Her gaze homes in on Norrell’s chest. “You’ve got a little dirt on your pelt. What have you been up to?” she observes dryly, sounding suspicious of him.
Norrell’s lips twist into a wry grin, like he’s humoring her. “Yardwork. Figured Ada would need some help around the house since she is putting so much energy into hosting us. I bought a whipper snipper yesterday. I will get started with it after everyone else has woken up.”
My mouth gapes open, perplexed since I told him not to buy me gifts. Would that even count as a gift? “You did? Why would you do that? And do you mean a weed eater?” I question him while trying to tamp down my complete exasperation.
“I’ve always called them weed whippers. Whipper snipper makes no sense,” Cyrinda interjects, sounding haughty. She’s really elevated this whole notion of “taking sides” to the next level.
“I guess we’re all kinda right. It’s just a piece of machinery anyhow.” I offer them both a placating smile to try to smooth over this semantic disagreement.
“Not really,” she balks and marches out of the kitchen.
Norrell blows out a long breath. “She has not warmed up to me.”
It conjures memories of how he would bend over backwards for people, no matter how inconvenient. Well, everyone except for me that is. I’m sure her blatant dislike of him sticks in his craw. “She could start an argument in an empty house. Don’t take it personally. But I don’t think you’re ever going to get on her good side,” I observe with a shrug.
Like I figured, he doesn’t look pleased by this. It seems that quality hasn’t changed in these long years apart. I continue eating my breakfast and try not to let myself dwell on it.
“I ran into your Uncle Walt on my way to the garden shop yesterday. He looks hale and healthy for a human male his age. I hope he and Acton are well. He did not seem like he wanted to talk,” Norrell notes. I’m unsurprised. Walt’s eyes were always wide open to Norrell’s shortcomings. He saw much of it before I did. His words at the time when Norrell left,We are washing our hands of him, still ring true. I’ll do Norrell the favor this once and not rub it in. But if Walt ever decides to give him an earful, that’s his issue to deal with.
“He is. We’ve all grown long in the tooth I suppose, except for Acton that is.” I huff a small laugh at Acton’s seemingly eternal youth.
“Long in the tooth. That would be an apt description for me. My tusks are longer than they used to be. Yours look the same, not that your dull square teeth could be mistaken for tusks,” he jokes with an amused grin. It doesn’t exactly land. I’m not sure how to feel about him trying to act so familiar with me.
“Your tusks do look a little wilder,” I agree, trying not to stare at his mouth too long. “But yes, they’re both well. Living life to the fullest now that Walt is retired. They always have camping trips planned to regional forest preserves and national parks. Ikeep… kept… Acton in steady supply of glamor charms for their travels. When they’re home, they hike almost every morning. I’m not sure Walt’s fully let go of his old job. He likes to keep an eye on the condition of the trails, especially along the marsh where it sometimes floods.”
“From what I remember, that sounds like him. Community-minded,” he says, looking thoughtful.
We fall into silence as we finish our meal and drain our cups of coffee, making us both aware of the sounds emerging from other parts of the house. Taking my last bite, I subtly push the plate away from me. Norrell stands up and takes both of our plates to the sink and starts washing them. I get up to pour myself more coffee.
