She was dumbfounded. She clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a laugh of joy. Her heart was beating so fast, she could feel the pound of it through her skin.
“Am I too late?” Duncan asked. “Please tell me I’m not too late.”
“You’re—no—you’re not too late,” she managed to stammer.
He smiled. “Then come down here,” he urged.
She flew down the stairs in a dream, running to the garden gate in bed-socked feet and yanking it open.
Duncan walked slowly toward her, and she waited. Excitement pulsed through her. When he was so close that the steam of their breath mingled, she said, “I’ve got bed breath.”
His chuckle was low and deep as he looked into her eyes. “I really don’t care.”
He bent to kiss her lips. They kissed slowly at first, tenderly, his hands cupping her face while she snaked her arms around his waist. But they’d missed each other over the past couple of days, and quickly a hunger awakened between them that couldn’t be satisfied with gentle kisses. Their breath came harder as they pulled and pawed at each other, frustrated by the clothes between them.
“Get a room!” someone shouted from an upstairs window above one of the shops.
She giggled, burying her face in Duncan’s chest.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he said.
She looked up at him and smiled.
“How do you feel about single beds?” she asked, taking his hand and leading him through the back gate to the flat.
That night, the creatures in the woods discovered the feast laid out for them by the people of Rowan Thorp. And upstairs in Star’s old bedroom, she and Duncan discovered each other for the first time and found magic aplenty.
42
Bird Brother was an instant hit. Gerry and his fellow twitchers had installed the bird cams on Thursday morning, and within an hour of going live, most of Rowan Thorp was tuning in to watch the comings and goings of the rowan tree woods creatures. Betty—ever the canny businesswoman—had propped her iPad on the countertop so that people could watch while having their morning caffeine fix. The whole café stopped to watch when Joe and Duncan appeared on-screen and fixed the patchwork tarpaulin over the clearing in the woods, which would now be the banqueting hall. When it was done, everyone burst into applause.
Maggie, Simone, and Star had use of Ryan and Kev’s cookery school kitchen for the day and they planned to get as much prep done as possible, starting with the nut roasts.
There would be chicken as well, ten of them in fact, which they would cook tomorrow afternoon, so that the meat would be warm and rested for the feast. Kev and Troy had gone halves on a whole pig, which would be roasted slowly on the day. Apparently, they had been wanting to branch into offering a hog roast service, and the winter solstice banquet was the perfect excuse for them to try out their skills before they committed to buying all the equipment.
“It looks like the bird food Doreen made for the decorations,” said Simone, staring into her bowl of nut roast ingredients with distaste. “I think I’ll be sticking with the hog roast.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Star was unperturbed. “This is not only utterly delicious but is full of vitamins.”
“It looks like a recipe for explosive farts. I’m keeping Evette well away from it.”
Maggie snickered but pulled herself up short when Star glared at her. The mixture was rich, heavy with mushrooms and lentils, and fragrant with fresh sage, thyme, and rosemary. Liberal handfuls of fresh cranberries added a burst of color and there was no denying it smelled like Christmas Day as they plopped the mixture into the waiting loaf tins.
Next was the soup, which could be made today and reheated just before needed tomorrow evening. The old solstice menu notes they’d found in the strongbox revealed that English onion soup, made with cider from Rowan Thorp apples, was the tradition. With Parminder and Gerry Myers having made enough cider to test the livers of the entire village three times over, there seemed no reason to mess with history.
Maggie dragged a sack of white onions across the floor to rest against the legs of the long stainless steel work area.
“Are you serious?” asked Simone.
“What did you think we were going to make onion soup with?”
“That’s like two hundred onions!” declared Star.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Maggie admonished. “It’s barely a hundred.”
“And we have to peel and chop them all?”
“That’s how it usually works, yes.”
“We’re going to be in agony!” wailed Star.
“I have sensitive eyes!” protested Simone.
Kat walked in in her chef’s whites, swinging a carrier bag.
“Don’t worry, whiners, I’ve come prepared,” she declared, pulling three pairs of welding goggles from the bag. “Put these on and you can chop onions all day long without shedding a tear.”
The women goggled up and set to work. Kat put some Christmas tunes on, and they only had to suffer minimal grumbling from Simone about the risk of chopping-induced repetitive strain injury.
“How are things with Evette?” Maggie asked.
Simone smiled. “I think we’re going to be okay. I was so fixated on becoming pregnant, I’d reached the point where I was saturated with it. There’d been no space for anything else. But I’m learning how to make room.”
“Oh, Simone.” Star looked up from stirring the onions that were caramelizing in one of three huge pans, her eyes cartoonishly large in the goggles.
“It is what it is.” Simone shrugged. “Being away from it, and I guess being with you two, it’s helped me reset.”
“I’m glad it’s helped,” said Maggie, sliding a chopping board full of sliced onions and fresh thyme into the melted butter in her pan. “We have to do better for each other. All of us. I want you both to know, here and now, that I am here for you.”
“Me too,” said Star. “I don’t want us to be estranged. You’re my family, I need you—even you, Simone.”
Simone swiped at her with a wooden spoon. “It’s hard for you to see, what with the welding goggles, but that’s made me shed a tear.” Simone’s voice was tight.
The North sisters closed in for a hug, three sets of goggles clinking.
“Thank you for offering to be our surrogate,” Simone whispered into Star’s ear. “You’ll never know how much it means to me.”
“I would do anything for you, either of you.”
“For the record, I have no need of your womb,” said Maggie. “But I’d appreciate a babysitter once a week now that you’ve decided to stick around for a while. It would be kind of nice to go out on actual dates with Joe.”
“Done.” Star smiled.
The scent of onions caramelizing in butter filled the kitchen, and when crushed garlic was added to the mix, a new layer of savory filled the space.
“I want to run something by you both,” said Simone.
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”
“I’m on sabbatical for a year, and Evette and I thought, since our lease is up in January, maybe we could try and find a place to rent here.”