The stew had turned out wonderfully, though Billie insisted on calling it beef potion at every opportunity. She told everyone about the garden. Not accurately.
“We buried weeds,” she said through a mouthful of bread.
“We removed weeds,” I corrected.
“And made Filth Elixir.”
“That part is unfortunately true.”
“I got hosed,” she said.
Conrad paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You got what?”
“With the outside hose,” Billie said happily. “It was freezing and fun.”
“She was quite muddy,” I explained.
“How muddy?”
“Ecosystem,” Billie supplied.
Conrad looked at me.
I nodded. “Yes, she was so muddy, she became a new ecosystem.”
CJ laughed so hard, he nearly choked on his food. Bianca tried and failed to hide her smile.
The older two told Billie about the arcade, and Billie demanded to know whether the machines had “inside fairy people.” CJ explained pixels in an increasingly fantastical manner. Bianca, hugging her plush frog under one arm, corrected him in a serious tone. The joy radiating from Conrad made me want to scoot closer to him.
This was what I had warned myself against.
Contentment.
It had a way of convincing you to unpack your bags. To stop watching the horizon. To believe, even for a little while, that you might be allowed to keep the life you’d built.
I had no business getting tangled up in that emotion, because nothing lasted for me. Not very long, anyway.
I gazed around, my heart aching a little. It was all so wonderful. The room was filled with steam from the cauldron still cooling on the stove. Mud-streaked boots sat by the back door. Arcade prizes cluttered the table. Billie’s black sheet had slipped off one shoulder, CJ had stew on his cuff, Bianca’s frog occupied its own chair, and Conrad looked across the table at me over the heads of his talking children.
His eyes held gratitude, amusement, and something tentative and newly alive. Mine must have held too much, because a sudden quiet dawned across his features. I looked away first, reaching for the breadbasket to pass around and pretending the moment had not arrived uninvited between the potatoes and the anise seed pods.
Billie tapped her ring pop against her bowl. “Attention, everyone. I have decided that beef potion should happen every week.”
CJ raised his spoon. “Seconded.”
Bianca lifted her hand. “I support this motion with the condition that future names include ingredient transparency.”
Conrad looked at me, still smiling. “What does the potion master say?”
I should have corrected him. I should have said nanny, cook, employee, any word with sensible boundaries.
Instead, I looked at the ridiculous little family around the table and allowed myself one foolish second of happiness.
“The potion master,” I said, “votes yes.”
10
WINNIE
