Chapter 11 #2
Another wave with the spoon, and this time, a bit of sautéed onion flew out the kitchen window with perfect precision. The discussion 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 they didn’t sell 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.”
“Ah, Mira.” Her mother shook her head in an exaggerated motion. “If the town is doing so poorly, maybe it’s a good idea to think about a few things. There might be a reason Lochlin closed down the shop. The old coot was always stubborn, but he probably saw the writing on the wall.”
“Or maybe he just wanted to retire,” Mira muttered. “He was in his seventies, he was allowed to do that.”
“Of course, of course. Still, if everyone’s moving on, maybe you should consider if this is the right choice for you.” Her tone was mild. “We just don’t want you to end up penniless, dear.”
Mira swallowed an impulsive reply. No, her mother probably didn’t, that part was true.
What was also true was that she had been voicing objections from the start, and probably saw this as a perfect opening to persuade her wayward daughter to come home and find another, more respectable and most importantly stable job in Willow Harbour, where sensible people lived.
It was part worry, Mira knew. Parents did tend to want better for their children than the way they themselves had grown up.
Though that didn’t mean that they didn’t disagree on what exactly constituted ‘better’.
“I know. But I haven’t even opened the shop yet. It’ll probably be just fine. People always want potions, right?”
“Sure,” was her brother’s contribution, “’specially the fun ones.”
Mira snorted. “Not that kind, you dolt. Go buy those from that shady guy behind the bar.”
He grinned. “Will do. Any requests?”
“Paul!” Her mothers outrage told Mira that she still heavily disapproved of Paul’s way of spending his weekends, even now that he was an adult and almost a certified accountant with near-perfect test scores. “I asked you not to do that anymore!”
“You asked me not to talk about it.” Paul ducked his head. “Sorry. Won’t mention it again.”
Her mother exhaled sharply, and her father shook his head.
“Come now, Paul, that’s no topic for the dinner table.”
Paul’s response was a quiet ‘mhm’.
“Now, I hope you’ll keep the shop respectable, won’t you?” Her father eyed her sharply. “Nothing untoward?”
“I don’t even know how to do that,” Mira replied, exasperated. “None of the recipes mentioned any of that.”
“Recipes?”
“There’s a book. Uncle Lochlin left it in the shop, with notes and stuff. Just in case someone would take over, I think,” she added hastily. No need to let them know about the letter. They’d be even more certain that she was mad. “I found it when I was cleaning. It’s pretty useful.”
“You’re working off of a recipe book written by Lochlin?” Her mother sounded dubious. “As far as I know, he’s never had formal training, are you sure that’s a good idea? Can you even run a potion shop without-”
“Yes! I can.” Mira took a steadying breath. “I checked. I double-checked, even. And the recipes are fine. I’ve been practising.” She managed a strained grin. “You should see my flower beds out back. Flourishing. Thriving, even.”
“I see.” It was very clear from her tone that her mother did not, in fact, see. “That sounds like you have things handled for now.” Her smile was as strained as Mira’s. “Well then. We all hope you’ll do great, don’t we?”
The nods were just a little bit forced, though they did at least make a fair attempt at enthusiasm.
Mira tried not to let it get to her. They weren’t entirely wrong to be concerned.
It was risky. She’d given up something good for it.
But she stood to gain so much, too. The emporium had been soul-crushing at times.
And while she’d been working a lot, had tossed two ruined pots so far and had a burn on her hand only just heal, it was so much less exhausting.
In the emporium, she’d done the same things all day, every day, and every kind of tangible result had been gone again minutes later when a customer had finished rummaging through a stack of sweaters for a size they didn’t have.
Like building sandcastles in high tide, Mira had never been able to enjoy anything even resembling the fruits of her labour.
In Emberglen, she could point to exactly what she had accomplished at the end of every single day.
Even if it was just scrubbing the baseboards in the shop, or cleaning a few square metres of her garden to plant some vegetables, because that seemed to be a thing everyone in town did, so Mira had felt compelled to join in.
And even when her back ached and she had blisters on her hands because she’d forgotten to wear her gloves – again – there was always satisfaction in the knowledge that she had done something she, and others, could see.
She looked around and wondered if any of them would understand.
“Thanks,” she eventually said. “I appreciate it.”