Six

EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I learned what a bread day was. The Northcotts made huge batches of bread twice a week for the families who tended their land. It meant that all the cooks, some of the maids, and Aunt Jovana herself were in the kitchen shortly after sunrise, working and baking throughout the day. It ensured that, even if someone who worked for them was sick, they had something to eat. It was one of the most generous and simple ideas I’d ever heard of, and I was eager to participate.

If only eagerness could translate to skill.

Scarlet stayed close as we watched the cooks folding dough in on itself so aggressively, I wondered if it would leave the whole thing bruised. We tried to mirror their actions, but neither of us were as strong as the women who’d been doing this for ages. Even Aunt Jovana was impressive, lifting up the dough and slapping it on the table with force. I was too afraid it’d fly from my hand if I attempted anything close to that.

If I wasn’t daunted enough by the mastery of the cooks around me, Etan’s ever-watching eyes seeing me fail was making it a hundred times worse.

“Son, if you’re going to be down here, why don’t you help us?” Aunt Jovana asked, darting her eyes to where he sat, legs wide on a counter and taking spitefully loud bites of an apple.

“Nope. I’m here to be close to Enid, and that’s all,” he declared, a lock of his hair casually flipping across his forehead.

“None of that nonsense!” the large woman beside me exclaimed, but I could see she was amused by him flirting. Meanwhile, I was completely thrown by his behavior.

“You’re the love of my life, Enid. I’d die without you!” he exclaimed, his mouth still full of apple.

The women in the room laughed. Clearly, I was in a room of Etan supporters. It baffled me. Was this who he was when I wasn’t around? Was his natural state one of charm? And, in an entirely unrelated issue, why could I not figure out how to roll dough?

“Give me that,” Enid said, pulling the dough from me. “If you don’t work it right, the bread won’t rise.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I peeked over my shoulder, and Etan was watching me, shaking his head. If it was so easy, then why wasn’t he doing it?

“Enid here has been making bread since she was tall enough to reach the table. You can learn plenty from her,” Aunt Jovana said, nodding at the head cook, who was now working away on my lump of dough. She smiled at the praise from her mistress, but not as brightly as she had when Etan said he loved her.

“I’d really like to,” I said quietly, hoping this woman could see I was only trying to help.

She didn’t respond but kept kneading, her hands bigger than any man’s I’d ever seen. I looked around, trying to find another way to occupy myself. I went over to the flour to start measuring out more for myself. It was unfortunate that the massive bag was right beside Etan. I stood there for a minute, floundering.