“Not... not anymore.” Finally coming out of her trance, Ashlin dropped the corner of fabric she had been admiring as her thoughts came back to reality. Her hand dropped to her side. “I’ve no coin to spend on such things.”
“No one has coin these days.” The older woman waved her through the door to the back room. “Come.”`
Ashlin followed her through the small doorway to the familiar workspace and storage area. It was filled with wooden crates and more fabric, along with wooden frames, sewing tools, and a long work table. But Ashlin immediately noticed that one corner had been cleared of boxes, opening up a small space that was partially hidden by the wall of crates around it.
“Come apprentice with me, girl,” the older woman asked gently. “I can’t offer you any payment, but I cleared out this corner so you’d have a space of your own.”
Ashlin’s eyes burned with unshed tears. Nothing in the world would make her happier, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”
“It’s not quite as grand as your mansion, but I’m a mighty fine cook,” Mistress Cedrice teased. “Besides, these frail fingers of mine are getting to be as cranky as I am.”
Ashlin threw her arms around the short woman. “No one has ever done anything so sweet for me, and I’d give up the mansion any day. But... I can’t leave my family.”
The woman’s slight frame stiffened under her hug. “Family? Family is not something you are beholden to, child.”
Ashlin stepped back, guilt washing over her. “I know, but things are so tight right now. If only Papa...”
“We’ve been over this, child. That was not your fault.”
“But they need me. I owe them that much. Keep the corner clear for me? For someday?”
The old woman sighed, her face softening. “Silver.”
Ashlin looked up, confused. “What?”
Mistress Cedrice had already disappeared through the doorway, back into the main room of her shop. “Silver embroidery,” she called. “The blue gown should have a delicate line of silver embroidery.”
Ashlin followed her. Delicate silver leaves filled her imagination, twisting and growing around the dress in her mind. She nodded. “That would be perfect.”
“You are skilled with a needle, my girl. ’Twould be a shame to waste that.”
Ashlin picked up her brown basket, partially filled with a mixture of brown squash and brown potatoes. “Maybe in the warmer months, when we have more vegetables to sell, I can spare some time to come back and learn from you.” She opened the front door, bracing herself against the cold air.
“Child, wait.”
Ashlin gratefully shut the door, stepping back into the warm shop.
“I need some squash. What have you got left today?” Mistress Cedrice peeked into the basket, then disappeared into the back room for a moment. When she returned, she was carrying a length of brown wool. “I haven’t any coin, but would you take this for the three squash?”
Ashlin stepped back, shocked. “Of course not. That would be the same as robbing you.”
“Then toss in the potatoes as well.” She held the fabric out. “I’m afraid the mice found this one and it’s full of holes. I haven’t the patience for saving it, but with your cleverness for construction you could finally have a proper cloak for the rest of the cold season.”
“Or you could just get a cat to deal with the mice.” Ashlin hoped her playful words would hide the shame in her face. A mere summer ago she could have purchased any length of fabric in this shop, and now she’d been reduced to accepting charity.
“I’ve always loved cats, but then where would the poor pests live?” As she spoke, Mistress Cedrice grabbed the basket from Ashlin’s hand and dumped its contents onto her table. She placed the fabric inside and handed it back to Ashlin. “The back corner will always be open for you.”
“Thank you, Mistress Cedrice,” Ashlin whispered, ducking out onto the street. The afternoon sun was quickly retreating, leaving in its place a renewed drizzle of rain. Clutching the large basket to her chest, she hunched over it and hurried out of the market square, salting the brown wool with her tears.
By the time it was nearly dark, she could see her family home at the end of the road. The stone house was beautifully situated outside of the city on a large plot of land that had once been a prosperous farm. At the moment, though, the only sign of life was the dim light shining through one of the upper windows. Ashlin’s stomach growled as she hurried past the now-empty flower beds in front of the house and wove around back to enter by the kitchen. No need to make a muddy mess in the front hall when she would only have to clean it later.
The kitchen was dim and lifeless. Even the fireplace, which she had stocked well before leaving, was empty.
On market days, Stasiya was supposed to make supper while Ashlin was out. Not for the first time, it appeared that her step-sister had neglected this routine as the kitchen held no sign of food.
Hoping that nothing disastrous had happened during her absence, Ashlin quickly removed her patched leather shoes and hastened up the stairs to the family parlor.
Her stepmother, Lady Meliora Cabril, sat in an elaborate wooden chair next to a blazing fireplace. She held a leather-bound book in one hand and a feathered quill in the other. Her thin face was pinched as she absently tapped the end of the feather against her pursed lips. Across from her, a young woman was setting carved miniatures on a painted board of colorful squares.
