Page 25 of Of Potions and Honey
Another wave with the spoon, and this time, a bit of sautéed onion flew out the kitchen window with perfect precision. Thediscussion below stopped for a moment before someone cursed loudly; a few moments later, it continued from just a little further away.
“The emporium. You know, where you had a perfectly good job that you decided to quit for whatever reason?” The spoon clanked around the pot. “They sell water now. They say it’s good for your health, and since I started drinking it, I do feel like my joints are a little less achy.”
Golden River. Of course they were in the water business now. Was there anything theydidn’tsell in slightly more convenient, slightly cheaper, and substantially inferior version of the original? Though with water of all things Mira couldn’t fathom how that would be cheaper than the pump down in the courtyard.
Mira took the bottle as she sat back down, turning it to see the label. Yes, there it was, in the bottom corner, the bright yellow and the parrot. The rest of the label was taken up by two silhouettes contrasted against each other – some oddly-shaped type of multi-story building in front of a large tree. The building looked vaguely familiar. Probably some landmark or other, to give the product an air of culture. Which Mira understood for things like clothes and fine tableware, less so for bottled water.
Then again, someone with money to buy their water in bottles might just want it this way.
“Why are you paying that much for water?”
“It’s a special offer,” her mother replied. “It’s not very expensive for how fancy it is. Something about testing the market, I don’t know.”
“Mum…”
“Oh, don’t you start, you sound just like your father. Now, where are the carrots, the onions are getting brown!”
After her father returned from work, and Paul had evidently gotten sick of talking to himself in the mirror, they all squeezed around the small table, just like old times. The plates had a few more bits missing and the stew pot definitely had acquired another dent since Mira had last used it herself. Still, as they ate, Mira felt herself gripped by an odd sense of nostalgia. She wasn’t sure what for. She was here, after all, and while she had missed all of them, it wasn’t like he couldn’t come visit whenever she wanted. Maybe that was just how things were; the further you moved, the more you felt like you couldn’t go back.
“Pass me the bread?”
Mira held the basket out to Paul, who grabbed two slices at once and bit into one immediately. “Thnk,” he muffled around a mouthful of rye bread.
“Manners, Paul!”
He rolled his eyes, so did their mother, and they both went on eating as if nothing had happened.
“So, Mira.”
Mira stilled for a fraction of a second before she carried on and hoped nobody had noticed. She knew her father’s tone, and she’d hoped everyone would be too busy and wrapped up in their own lives to ask.
“Yes?”
“How’s the shop going? Life in Emberglen? You haven’t talked about it since you got here.”
Mira tried her best to look casual while she tore up a piece of bread, suddenly too nervous to keep eating.
“There’s not much to tell yet. I’ve been busy preparing and… stuff.”
Her father sighed. “Yes, of course. Lots of work. But everything else is still happening. How’s the house? Can you afford to fix it up a little? If you need some help…”
“The house is fine.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “It needs some cosmetic work, but that can wait. I can live with peeling paint for a bit, really.”
“Hm. Of course.” Her father nodded. “That house was built to last. I remember the woodwork, outstanding quality. Probably cost a pretty penny, too.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Mira replied. “Most houses there look like that, and the place isn’t exactly rich.”
“No,” her mother agreed, “it never was.” She eyed Mira sharply. “How are the neighbours? Are you making friends? I’m sure you’ve met Louise, you remember Louise? She’s a truly lovely lady, always had some sour apple candy for you children, even though I kept asking her not to give you any before dinner. How is she doing? Is she still with that philandering husband of hers? I do hope her no-good son has not landed himself in prison yet.”
Mira swallowed a bite of bread that felt much too dry. “I don’t know. She doesn’t live there anymore.”
“Oh? Has she finally kicked her husband to the curb and moved? Good for her.”
“I don’t know,” Mira admitted. “It’s just that most of the street is empty right now. People have moved away, but nobody is moving in.”
“Really.” There was something about the surprise in her mother’s voice that felt a little too much. Not quite sincere. “I didn’t know! Has something happened?”
“Nothing specific. Just… time, I suppose.”
