Her smile brightened, and with one hand, she reached out to cup my cheek. “My sweet little Cécile.” Her fingers were soft and smelled of flowers. “Come, come. Let us go inside before the sun puts any more freckles on your face. We’ve much to discuss.”

She took my arm, and I slowly helped her across the yard toward the house, wondering the entire time why she had worn such impractical footwear. No amount of scrubbing would get the mud out of the brocade. I steered her around the puddles, taking small steps so that I wouldn’t splash water onto her skirts, but she didn’t seem to care that she was wrecking her fine things.

“How was the journey, Mama?” I asked, helping her onto the steps.

“Dreadful, as always,” she replied, waiting for me to open the door for her. She didn’t bother to knock the worst of the grime off her feet before going inside, and I winced as she tracked mud across the wooden floor.

Neither she nor Gran acknowledged each other, but that wasn’t anything new. I pulled out a seat for my mother, and only quick action on my part got it back underneath her in time as she sat without looking. Hurrying to the fire, I poured steaming water from the kettle into the teapot, placing the chipped tea service with fresh cream and honey on the table in front of her. I could feel both their eyes on me as I sliced a few thick pieces of the fresh loaf Gran had baked, smeared them with butter I’d churned myself, and put them on the table with the tea. Then I cautiously sat down on the chair between them, careful to cross my ankles properly rather than pulling them up underneath me as was my habit.

My mother poured the tea for both of us, adding a generous amount of honey to both cups. I didn’t like mine sweet, but I was afraid to argue.

She took a small sip of the steaming liquid, eyes fixed on me. What important things did she want to talk about? Had something happened? How did it involve me? A thousand questions leapt through my head, but underneath my curiosity, hope was growing.

“Sing.”

The demand managed to be expected and surprising at the same time. Tea slopped out of my cup onto my hand, and I had to bite my lip to keep from yelping at the pain. I’d imagined this situation more times than I could count, but now that it was upon me, I had no idea what to do. In my imagination, I’d always known the perfect song to sing, but in reality, I’d never learned anything beyond what we sang at festivals. I cast an imploring look in Gran’s direction, but she only rested her chin on crossed fingers. She wouldn’t help me in this.

Sucking in a deep breath, I leapt into the song everyone always asked me to sing at dances. It was enthusiastic and joyful, but I barely made it through the first few lines before my mother flung up a hand, choking me off. “Stop. Please stop.” Her brow was creased with a scowl, her eyes cold as the winter sky. “Any talentless wretch could manage that.”