The Greatest Showman: March One-Shots

10. Easter

The Barnum household is buzzing with activity.

Charity is chairwoman of the food, and she's never categorized her kitchen as being "too small" and "not having enough counter space" until now. What with the flour and sugar and cookie trays covering every square inch, the fridge completely filled with hard-boiled eggs and salads, the incessant beeping of the ovens, and all of the conversations swirling around her... it's the definition of crazy.

Lettie and Anne are helping as best as they can, but it still doesn't seem to be enough. The majority of the guests would just rather try to make small talk with their boss' wife because their boss isn't here yet. Charity appreciates it, she really does, but when she's in the middle of trying to prepare all their food?

Not to mention the number of young girls who seem to be dominating the house. From Caroline's ballet friends to Helen's school friends to Anne and Phillip's twins, the Barnum house might as well be a finishing school.

"Charity, what color sprinkles do you want on the sugar cookies?" Anne asks, standing in front of the trays of cookies at the peninsula. Charity wipes sweat off her forehead with the back of her arm, and turns around to look over.

"Um..." She tries to remember how to get her mouth to formulate the different colors. "Pink? Purple? Easter-y colors."

Anne nods once, then gets to work. Charity watches her long enough to see her choose the purple glitter and start to decorate the cookies. The blonde then turns back around to the oven, pulling out the tray of tie-dye cupcakes—which Caroline had begged for.

"Ooo, those look delicious," Lettie remarks, licking her lips for dramatic effect as she frosts the already cooled vanilla cupcakes.

"Yeah? I hope they are," Charity admits, closing the oven door and then changing the temperature. "It's a new recipe I'm trying out." She wipes her hands on her apron, then notices Anne playfully swatting W.D.'s hand away as he goes to steal one of her cookies.

"What's next?" Charity huffs to herself with a sigh, her hands on her hips. She looks around the kitchen, mentally making a list of all of the things she still needs. "Oh! Brownies!"

She doesn't hear Lettie chuckle to herself.

"Auntie Charity?" Morgan, at least that's who Charity thinks it is, comes running into the kitchen.

"What is it, honey?" Charity says, squatting down to the toddler's level. Anne turns around, one eye trained on her brother while the other is trained on her daughter.

"I dunno if I s'pposed to tell you this," she says coyly, twisting back and forth in the most adorable of ways, "but Helen's in your room, an' I di'nt think she was s'pposed tuh be."

Charity closes her eyes, pushing back her exasperation and annoyance. "Thank you, Morg. I'll go talk to her," she says as she pushes herself up.

"No, I can take care of it," Anne is quick to say, brushing the sprinkles off of her hands.

"I told her to not go in there. She needs a little reprimanding," Charity tells her. "I've got it."

Anne puts a gentle hand on the older woman's shoulder. In a lower volume, she says, "Char, you're stressed. I'll go talk to Helen and her friends while you continue down here. I can even get Phillip to finish the cookies, if you want." Charity gives her a small smile of gratitude. Anne then adds, in a whisper, "And plus that's not Morgan. That's Penelope."

The trapeze artist smiles, grabbing her daughter's hand as they both head towards the stairs.

Charity turns to Lettie in disbelief, and the Bearded Lady bursts out laughing. Charity's pretty sure that, if P.T. were here, he would be, too.

"Whatever," Charity says with a smile—the first real one of the weekend. She goes back to gathering the ingredients she needs for her fudge brownies.

Milk, butter, sugar. Flour, cocoa powder, baking soda. Eggs, baking powder, chocolate chips. Mix.

"Mommy, when's the Easter Egg Hunt?" Caroline's voice suddenly asks, and Charity looks up to see her and her friends coming into the kitchen.

"Whenever your father gets back," Charity tells them, continuing to mix the brownie batter. "Then you guys will all go to the circus while I finish up here, and then join you."

Apparently satisfied, they run back off. Charity watches them leave, her eyes barely noticing the fact that the front door is open and Phillip seems to be standing in it, talking to whoever is on the front porch.

W.D., with a teasing smile, reaches two fingers forward towards a sugar cookie. With an eye roll, Charity says, "Alright, alright, but then you're on sprinkle duty."

The trapeze artist recoils, his nose scrunched up in mock disgust. "Do I look like I'm a cookie decorator? I think not. The creative genes went to my sister, not me."

Charity can't help but laugh at that, vaguely hearing her name being called. "Okay, fair enough. Could you get a pan from that cupboard behind you for the brownies, then?"

"I suppose I can do that," W.D. replies with a wink, and then turns around to grab a pan.

This time Charity knows she's not imagining things when her name is called again, louder. Phillip comes racing down the hall, his footsteps so loud it practically silences the entire house. It's like a chill has made its way throughout the estate, and now it's been buried under a blanket of silence.

Or maybe that's just because the panic on Phillip's face and the policeman standing in the doorway is enough for Charity to know something's extremely wrong.

"Charity, it's P.T.," Phillip says, breathing heavily. "There's been an accident."