Page 13 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
“We need some bread and cheese, don’t we?” Sass was already heading for the shops, her step quick.
They did. Even if she tried her hand at baking, Lira had no intention of attempting the rustic loaves and morning buns that were Pip’s trademark. And they could hardly buy a loaf of bread without some tangy cheese to go along with it.
Lira followed Sass into the shop, tipping her head to the smiling gnome leaving with a basket hooked in the crook of her arm. Inside, the back wall was lined with shelves jammed tight with baskets turned on their sides, and those were, in turn, crowded with flour-dusted loaves. The yeasty aroma was pungent enough to make her swoon. Lira’s stomach gurgled with a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten in, well, when had she last eaten?
“Bless the stars!”
Lira couldn’t see where the voice had come from, although she tracked the sound to the pine counter. Then a head popped up, revealing the baker himself. Although Pip’s hair was decidedly grayer than when she’d last seen him, he looked much the same. The sameoven-warmed pink cheeks, the same squat nose, the same dimple in his chin, the same flour dusting his face and hair. Even the forest-green waistcoat under his burlap apron looked like the one he’d worn so many years ago.
“Mr. Brambleheart.” Lira smiled at him as memories flooded back—him sneaking her a warm morning bun or passing her a knobby loaf of bread and insisting she give it to her gran as thanks for her sharing a recipe. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He bustled from behind the counter, taking her hands in his small, calloused ones that were as warm as the loaves he sold. “You can call me Pip now that you’re all grown up.”
From this angle, Lira could see that his wiry hair was speckled with bits of uncooked dough and perhaps honey glaze.
He peered up at Lira, his eyes watering. “And look how you’ve grown. Your gran…” He sniffed and dropped her hands after squeezing them, hurrying back behind the counter. “Well, enough of that. What can I get you now that you’ve finally come home?”
Lira wanted to tell him that she wasn’t home for good, that she hadn’t decided if she would stay or not, that she wasn’t sure if she could, but she couldn’t bear to say any of that. Instead, she waved a hand at Sass. “My friend and I are helping fix up The Tusk & Tail.”
Pip’s already large eyes widened. “Are you now? Well, that’s a job.”
“You said it.” Sass eyed the tray of golden-brown buns lined up at the ready on the counter. “And we’ve worked up an appetite.”
Pip nodded as if he’d been given a particularly delightful assignment, and he rubbed his plump hands together briskly. “You’ll need some honey-drizzled buns and at least one loaf of malted brown bread.”
“And you can’t eat brown bread without a wedge of farm cheese.”
Lira twisted her head to see Fenni ambling over from the door between the two shops as he wrapped a triangle of buttery-yellow cheese in paper. His brown, brushed-velvet waistcoat hugged his belly, the wooden buttons clinging valiantly to their buttonholes. Like his brother, his hair had grayed over the years. Unlike his brother, hisclothes were pristine, his hair was brushed neatly to one side, and it didn’t contain bits of food.
“It’s nice to see you too, Mr.— ”
“Fenni,” he said with a broad smile. “You know, I always knew you’d come back.” He flicked his gaze to his brother. “Didn’t I always say that, Pip?”
Pip bobbled his head. “He always said that.”
Sass produced a net bag Lira hadn’t even known she’d brought, tucking the proffered items snugly inside without question. Lira fished out the copper bits, but the halfling brothers waved her off.
“Your coin isn’t good here. Not today, at least.”
Lira looked from one brother to the other but they both flapped chubby hands at her. She sighed. “Thank you. I know we’ll enjoy it.”
“Hurry back,” Pip said as the brothers waved them off, stepping outside the shops to watch them walk away.
Sass patted the bag. “I can tell already that my waist will not thank them.”
As they passed the next shop, Sass inhaled sharply. Lira cut her gaze to the hats displayed in the glass storefront and then to the dwarf’s curly hair she contained in a tight braid. “The haberdasher?”
“Fabric,” she said. “Have you seen the moth holes in the tavern curtains?”
Lira hadn’t noticed curtains at all. “Why don’t I let you handle that while I pop into the shop next door?”
Sass craned her neck, her brow crinkling. “The apothecary?” Then she twitched one shoulder. “Suit yourself.”
As Sass disappeared into the haberdasher, Lira pivoted to the apothecary and walked straight into someone so tall and barrel-chested she staggered back.
Hands grabbed her arms and steadied her before she stumbled, and Lira’s hand went instinctively to her waist where no blades were hooked. Hells, why had she left her daggers behind?
“Apologies.”
