Rosemary smiled indulgently.“Sit, Corinthia.”She placed her hands on Corinthia’s shoulders and bodily steered her to a seat at the kitchen table.
Corinthia began to rise from the chair.“But you’re my guest—”
Rosemary tapped Corinthia’s nose, which made Corinthia go briefly cross-eyed and had the effect of knocking her back into her seat.“Now, where’s your juicer?”Rosemary began flinging open cabinets.
“Juicer?”Corinthia had not juiced anything in years; nor did she, to her knowledge, have anything in the refrigerator or pantry that could be considered juiceable.
“Never mind!”Rosemary brandished a small, manual juicer triumphantly.
“But we don’t have anything to juice—”
“Ta-da!”Rosemary held up oranges that had been hidden from view in the strainer, in the sink.
“Where did you get those?”
“Your neighbor’s tree.”
“You stole oranges from my neighbor?”
“Stoleis such a strong word.”
“What would you call it?”
“Liberated.”
Corinthia couldn’t help laughing.“You learned all this from one cooking show?”
“I told you, I’m a fast learner,” Rosemary said.She expertly halved and began juicing the oranges.“Plus, I’ve been watching TV for years over back fences, remember?”
“I remember.”Corinthia watched her work—how clean and economical her movements were—and wondered what the odds were, out of all the galaxies in the universe, with their hundreds of billions of stars, that she, Corinthia, would be the one to have such a person cooking her breakfast.“Do you have plans for today?”
“Breakfast,” Rosemary said, sensibly.“Why?”
Beaufort looked at Corinthia, as if to say,Go on, then.
Corinthia tried to be nonchalant, but the words came out in a bit of a rush anyway: “If you’re not busy, Stevie was going to bring over her new electric scooter and we were going to take turns trying it out.Unless you have something to do, of course.”
“What I have to do,” Rosemary said, sliding the hot eggs out of the pan and onto two plates, “is learn how to ride an electric scooter.”The toast popped—she snagged it and dealt it like cards.Finally, she poured two small cups of orange juice.
Now I can help, Corinthia thought triumphantly, rising from her seat.She took the plates and Rosemary carried the cups.
Beaufort ambled hopefully alongside as they carried everything to the table, then sat on his haunches next to the table and looked soulfully upward, his usual method for convincing visitors to share.
Seated with the simple, fresh breakfast between them, Corinthia and Rosemary traded shy looks before digging in.Rosemary’s fork technique was at first unsteady, but her natural grace soon brought it into alignment with the highest standard of table manners.
Corinthia cleared her throat.“Last night was really something.”She hated to be so imprecise, but what were the right words for what she had experienced?“Are you okay, by the way?You nearly swooned on me.”
“Sorry about the fainting,” Rosemary said.She lightened the words with a smile.“I’m used to magic for one, not two.”
“Did you sleep well?I was worried the papasan chair wouldn’t be comfortable, but I didn’t want to try to move you once you settled.”
“Where would you have moved me?”Rosemary replied, playfully.
“Anywhere you wanted to be.”Corinthia would have given Rosemary the bed, if she had so desired, and repaired to the couch like a good host.She stopped short of imagining anything more familiar, because Corinthia was well-practiced at self-denial of everything except chocolate and books.“I was so tired I almost got carried away and knocked down my own house, but for Beaufort.”Corinthia nodded toward the dog, whose ears perked up at the mention.
“I wouldn’t have let you.I like your little house.You shouldn’t knock it down.”
“All I could think about was more room for the Refuge.”
