Ashlin nodded, moving towards the side wall where bobbins of thread were stacked on a shelf.
“Has your stepsister been taking over more of your responsibilities at home then?” the older woman continued.
Ashlin picked up two bobbins of blue thread. “We are making it work.” She brought the thread to the back table where Mistress Cedrice counted the payment.
The older woman picked up the thread, noting the color. “I’m sorry about the blue silk. I know you had your eye on it.”
Ashlin nodded again, not trusting her voice. Her stepmother had given her a single copper coin to cover the purchase, and she held it out over the table.
Mistress Cedrice took it from her hand and set the bobbins back on the table. “My dear, come up for a spot of tea.”
Ashlin shook her head. “I have no time.”
“Just a sip, it will do you good.”
Ashlin bit her lip. She only had a few hours before she had to walk to the palace, and the kitchen floor at home had to be thoroughly scrubbed before she could start sewing the dress so as not to get a speck of dirt on the fabric. But she had been up before dawn, and the tea would no doubt help her feel more awake. “Alright, but just for a moment.”
“Good. Come, come.” Mistress Cedrice led her through the back room and up the wooden stairs to her small living quarters above the shop.
The kettle was full and hot, hanging over the hot coals of the fireplace. Ashlin grabbed the tongs before the older woman could get to them and lifted the heavy pot from the fire.
Mistress Cedrice set two round clay mugs on the table next to a small teapot and sprinkled a pinch of fresh leaves into it. Before Ashlin even poured the hot water over them, she could smell the comforting aroma of the familiar tea. Over years of use, the unglazed clay pot had soaked in the oil and flavors of hundreds of steeps, taking on a unique sheen and aroma all its own. Carefully, Ashlin poured hot water into the pot, and the pores of the clay opened up, filling the entire room with the warm, astringent scent. It was the most comforting smell Ashlin had ever experienced.
She returned the pot to the stove and sat across from the older woman at the wooden table.
“How are you really doing?” Mistress Cedrice questioned her again.
Ashlin avoided her gaze, afraid to face herself with honesty. “It has been a little difficult, but I’m doing fine, really. This will all be over soon enough, and things can go back to the way they were before.”
“Before what?” The seamstress lifted the pot and poured tea into the waiting cups. “Before you started working at the palace, or before your father...”
Ashlin shook her head, wrapping her hands around the small mug. It had no handle, and it fit perfectly between her palms. “This is temporary. Bad times are always followed by good times, right?” She attempted a smile to prove she truly was alright.
“Not if you bring the bad times upon yourself.” Mistress Cedrice spoke softly, her voice filled with concern.
Ashlin stood up, leaving her cup half full on the table. “I really must be going.”
“My dear, please come apprentice with me.”
Ashlin shook her head, her throat closing in on her.
“What do you have to lose?” The older woman had stood, reaching out a hand to touch Ashlin’s arm.
“My family,” Ashlin whispered in response.
Understanding finally dawned on the seamstress’s face.
Ashlin swallowed, her throat still thick with emotion. She refused to give up hope by letting the tears fall.
Mistress Cedrice squeezed her hand. “You have suffered more loss than a person of your years should ever have to endure. But this is not what your father would have wanted for you.”
“They are all I have left.”
“I know. And I won’t press you again, but please know that I’ll always keep the back corner clear for you should you ever want it.”
The sound of a bell came from the store below.
“Sit down and collect yourself before you leave. I’ll go see who that is.”
