As she passed the round window on the stairway down to the bakery, Rena yawned hugely. Outside, the sky was just beginning to turn pinkish gray as the first rays of light began to rend the low morning clouds. She had seen enough early-morning fogs to know it would be a beautiful day, though she might not see much of it if Marja was in a punishing mood. “Here we go,” she muttered, and pushed open the heavy wood door that led to the main kitchen.
The heavy door creaked as Rena walked in. Marja, bent over a tray of specialty breads with a glazing brush, glanced up, waved absently, then went back to what she was doing. Except for their pale skin, the same spray of freckles over the nose, and (so Rena was told) the same laugh, the sisters Marja and Lariah could not have been more unalike. Where Lariah had been willowy and tall, Marja was broad-shouldered and buxom, her arms thick with ropy muscle. Where Lariah had been fair, Marja’s cheeks and nose were perpetually red, the result of a sensitivity to raw prusinseed enzymes, a condition that might have been eradicated if Federation medicine had been available to her in her youth. She walked with a slight limp from a childhood break that never properly healed. Rena’s father had been the dark-skinned one, and though she was built more like her mother, only the most observant could see any resemblance between her and her aunt. “Is there any tea?”
“Just put the water on,” her aunt said, still fussing with her bread.
“What do you need me to do?” Rena asked, looking directly overhead.
“If you can stay focused, glaze the buns.”
It was an old complaint. Rena rolled her eyes. “What do you mean ‘focused’?”
Marja shrugged. “No painting the buns with tinted glaze, no decorative flower patterns with the nuts and candies. No concocting experiments with the sweet bread recipes. We’re not creating art, we’re feeding people. Fofen Genn’s replicators broke down. He’s a houseful of boarders with no way to feed them. You’ll need to take down a few baskets of rolls to hold them over while he waits for the repair person to arrive.” Without actually looking up at Rena, she asked, “So did your trip purge that wandering impulse from you once and for all? I hope it did, because Kail came over every day when you were gone and I just know he’s ready to make your engagement official.”
“We’re not even unofficially engaged,” Rena said. “And he comes over here because you feed him.”
“I hope at least that you finished the design for Topa’s memorial. Every time I see him at shrine services, Vlahi from the foundry tells me he’s ready to make the mold.” Marja’s voice was sharp with frustration.
Rena winced, recalling her destroyed sketchbook. “No, Auntie. I’m going to have to start over. But I promise I’ll have it done before next week.” She looked more closely at Marja, noting the tension in her shoulders. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was leaving for Kenda. I contacted you as soon as I could—”
Marja held up a hand to shush her. “After all these years, I should be used to your bouts of wanderlust. But I have to confess this last disappearance surprised even me. Not even a week after Topa’s passing. I know he asked you to go on his behalf, but there’s work for the living to be done, Rena.” She tsked. “And then on the heels of abandoning Kail at the shrine—”
Rena blurted, “I never agreed to go to the vedek with Kail!” Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and counted backward until she’d regained emotional control. She was so tired of having this discussion. “I left school for Mylea. Told my professors I wasn’t coming back because I was needed at home. Isn’t that enough?”
“Enough? Your parents gave their lives so that Mylea could be preserved and Rena asks if she’s done enough?”
Rena let Marja’s words hang in the air, restraining herself from pursuing an argument. She suspected that her aunt lashed out from her own pain. Marja had buried her grief deep inside her: she missed her father terribly. That Marja was frustrated with her inability to commit to Kail wasn’t new. Though it was pretty close to the same conclusion she had recently come to about herself, Rena did not feel like giving her aunt the opportunity to stand with her hands on her wide hips and lecture her further.
“Kail wants me to go to Yyn for the Auster pageant next week.”
“Good,” Marja said shortly.
A buzzer saved both women from having to pursue the matter. Marja tapped a series of commands into the kitchen controls that unlocked and opened the ovens. Dozens of wire racks loaded with bun-filled trays glided out into the open air, accompanied by clouds of yeasty steam.
Marja lifted a few of the buns to check for readiness. “Give these a minute to cool and we can pack Fofen’s order.”
Without being told, Rena went to the rear of the kitchen to the pantry and retrieved the handmade rustic reed baskets and long lengths of coarse linen they had always used to pack the bread. Ten years ago, Rena, as a little slip of a girl, would help Topa and Marja deliver these baskets to market or to the Cardassian barracks. As she and Marja plucked the rolls off the trays, Rena wondered if Marja had similar memories. Once the baskets were filled, they loaded them onto a two-wheeled pull-cart that Rena would tow, a splintery wood handle gripped in each hand, across the hill to the boardinghouse.
As Rena wheeled the cart down the passageway to the courtyard, she passed by Topa’s old bedroom, finding his door propped open. She saw through her grandfather’s window that the sun was now high enough in the sky to shine down through the mist and make it the same colorless color and density as the spray of flour that pops out the top when the sack is first cut open. He would love a day like today.
Once outside, Rena squatted down by the cart wheels to make sure the axle had been repaired since the last time she’d used it.
“Excuse me?”
Startled, she jumped up. “Yes? What? Sorry…what?”
A tall figure stood in front of her, silhouetted against the mist, its hand extended to touch her shoulder, but not touching her. “I’m sorry,” the figure said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Fofen sent me down to see if the bread was done—”
At the same time, both of them realized the other’s identity and startled, taking long steps in opposite directions.
“Jacob,” Rena managed to squeak out. To see him now, emerging from the mist, an otherworldly apparition…Rena struggled to shake off the shock.
“Uh. Yeah. Rena,” he sputtered. “I should have thought to ask if this was your family—I mean I had no idea that this bakery was yours—I, you know, ummm…”
The slap-slap-slap of leather soles on the wet rock pavement sounded; Rena and Jacob’s heads pivoted toward the lanky figure emerging out of the fog.
“Hey Jacob! Genn just heard from Marja. The bread is on its way….” Fofen Parsh’s voice trailed off as he saw the pair. He looked from Jacob to Rena, then back again. Smiling shyly at her, Parsh dropped his eyes and said, “Rena—nice to see you again. Sorry I missed Topa’s funeral. He was a great old guy. If you ever want to talk, I’m always—”
“Thanks, Parsh,” Rena said, cutting him off. Avoiding further eye contact with Jacob, she stepped out from between the handles and offered the cart to the two men. “One of you want to take this up? I’m sure my aunt could use my help, since the customers will be arriving soon.” She crossed her arms over her chest, thrusting out her chin.
“You’d better believe Marja can use your help,” Marja boomed from behind.
Rena jumped visibly.
“Genn’s repair people aren’t available until after midmeal. In addition to our usual orders and what we need for drop-ins, Genn needs bread for meat and cheese bundles.” Marja stood beside Rena, scrutinizing both of the young men from their boots to their hair. “You’re looking well, Parsh. Being back in Mylea doesn’t agree with Rena, but it agrees with you.”