Immortal Memory (Iris' Atlantis 1)

Epilogue: The Sister

Aconite

I drew in a long inhale, then released the air out of my lungs. The afternoon sun pressed against my back and I considered taking off the collared shirt altogether in favor of the simple T-shirt I wore beneath it. But I was holding a bouquet of flowers from the florist of Great Star and wasn't willing to set the flowers onto the ground for fear of the door opening just then.

I stood at the front door of Rosemary Scale Tongue.

I heard her steps inside the house, approaching the door. It wasn't the familiar sound of her wooden heels, just socks against the flooring of a home.

"Oh Aconite! Come on in."

She had tied her hair into a cozy knot and was herself wearing a comfortable-looking simple summer dress of light fabric and a cardigan. I left my shoes just on the other side of the door and followed her into a comfortable, light kitchen-livingroom. The room seemed as if it might have hosted a fireplace once but now there was none in sight. Just unbroken flowery wallpaper on every wall.

Rosemary made me sit on a stool, set by a counter and facing the kitchen, my back to the rest of the room.

"I brought you flowers," I announced, extending the bouquet.

"These are beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous." She flashed me a smile that drew clear lines in her face and highlighted the beautiful pattern at the corners of her eyes.

"You do take tea, don't you?"

I got more than just tea. She had made two pies, one salty from onions and another one of currants.

As I helped myself to a salty onion piece, I confessed I knew nothing of any kind of cooking and was amazed that she had just pulled a pie out of her kitchen oven.

She looked radiant.

"I made them already when I was a teen. With my twin brother. We cooked together. Even when Plume went to a different college we would still cook together over holidays."

I swallowed, but she didn't bring up our conversation in the spring when I had accused her brother of being a monster. Instead she asked:

"But surely you have something you are good at making? Some favorite dish? A secret recipe learned from mom?"

I snorted. Before I could really think what I was saying, I blurted out: "She would never teach me how to butter a slice of bread. Secretive old hag."

The face she made hurried my confession that followed:

"But no. I am really not a skilled cook. I have a... housekeeper who takes care of cooking."

She stared, her delicate teacup forgotten midair.

"That is something I did learn from my mother. A family habit. Housekeepers." I fitted onto my face an embarrassed smile.

I was just about to turn back time to redo the conversation, but then she laughed. It was a delighted sound. Rosemary helped herself to a slice currant pie. My ears were hot, but I wasn't willing to undo her mirth.

"I have never lived with any household help. Is your house big?"

She seemed genuinely curious of this new concept of a housekeeper and made me feel just slightly less spoiled in my wizardhood. For yes indeed, I had a very convenient spirit arranging my home so I could concentrate on anything but the mundane domestic tasks.

"It is. Not a manor, but more than big enough for one old man. Lots of dustless corners and spotless windows. Has a nice view to the river."

"Sounds lovely." She looked around herself in the light room. "This must look small and threadbare in comparison."