“I’m in my Carol Aird era, baby sister.”
Deryn didn’t respond to the tragic character comparison and decided to rejoice in the fact that her sister chose someone who did have a happy-ish ending, at least.
Ceridwen soon returned with two steaming mugs. “Peppermint. I have a feeling you might need it.”
Deryn almost dropped the mug, “Me? I’m not the one whose business was broken into.”
She took a sip, but it settled heavily in her stomach. Deryn felt like climbing out of her skin. Restless, on edge. There was only one thing for her to do, her hands already warming up with intention. She walked into the kitchen and reached for the first cupboard, pulling out items arbitrarily, deciding on what she’d make.
It was the fridge that decided for her. The strawberry jam jar stared at her from its place on the side of the door. She looked around some more, and the coconut all but winked in her direction.
Coconut and strawberry jam sandwich bars it was, then.
At the wave of her hand, the oven blinked to life. Deryn adjusted the temperature by hand before lining a tray with parchment paper. A few steps away from her, Ceridwen was quiet, turning the cup in her hands.
“I’m fine. No, don’t even start. I am fine. They didn’t take anything. And maybe John Moss was right.”
Deryn blew out a breath and set up the stand mixer.
“You don’t really believe this was some kids playing baseball.”
Ceridwen smiled, but it didn’t reach her mossy-green eyes. She got up and took a spoonful of the jam before handing the jar back to Deryn.
“No, because I don’t know any kids who’d play baseball in the snow, Der. Also, they were clearly looking for something. They didn’t break much, nor did they take anything, but several drawers in my office in the back were opened, and some were ransacked.”
Deryn allowed her to sidle up next to her, back propped on the counter, as she gently folded butter, flour, and baking powder into the bowl, letting the Kitchen-Aid turn it all into a crumbly mixture. As the machine stopped, she turned to Ceridwen.
“What are we going to do about it?” Deryn asked quietly, and Ceridwen smiled.
“Trust you to be my baby sister who is always ready to stand in front of me.” When Deryn wanted to protest, Ceridwen kissed her on the forehead. “I’m not Rhiannon, baby. If I need help, I’ll ask for it. I won’t insist on being the brooding, stoic Jane Eyredoing it all alone. If there’s anything to be done, we will do it together. But it means the world to me that you’d offer.”
Deryn felt tears prick the backs of her eyes and chose to change the subject.
“Any guesses what they were looking for?”
Ceridwen reached for a new spoon and scooped up more jam before throwing the second spoon in the sink.
“There was money in the till. Not much. But it looked to me like they didn’t even check. Which is why John Moss could be right? Not a burglary. Or you and I could be right, and they weren’t looking for money at all. Since I don’t even have a safe in the shop, I’m not certain what they thought they could find there.”
“So, Paloma was right, then. TheCawshould’ve been clearer about it. They’re too hard on her.”
As Ceridwen moved to give her more space, she separated two egg yolks from the whites, then added a few spoonfuls of water into the bowl with the other ingredients. She stepped back as the mixture took on a uniform consistency and drank another sip of her tea. This time, the tea was too cold. She let her fingers glide up and down the side of the mug, freeing her magic to warm up the contents once again. When the liquid started bubbling, Ceridwen shot her a warning look.
“Break that mug, and I’ll make one out of you. It was a gift.”
“From a toddler? It looks hideous,” Deryn teased, but blew on her tea before tasting it. When she burned her tongue, Ceridwen just sighed.
“It was Seren’s first attempt at pottery. She’s much better now. But I kept this one.”
Deryn heard melancholy in the words. She wanted to make a joke, to lighten the mood, to make Ceridwen smile, but nothing came to mind, so she let silence settle in the corners of the kitchen.
“I kept your first drawings too, you know.” Ceridwen was the one to break the détente.
“I do know. There’s one on the side of the fridge. I might not eat here, but I do notice some things.”
Deryn upended the dough on the clean counter surface and took a few minutes to knead it by hand. It didn’t need the additional mixing, no, but she always did it anyway. Just a few more times. Just enough to feel the dough on her fingertips.
Ceridwen watched her closely as she laid the thin layers on a sheet pan. She hummed as Deryn closed the oven door and set the timer for fifteen minutes, then she stumped her by changing the subject.
