Mallory, with a gleam in her eye, had pulled out a dated-looking recipe book and proceeded to make two old-fashioned, and therefore long-lasting, desserts: stollen and Victorian-era fruitcake. They would keep the few days until Yule even without refrigeration. Robin, out of pity, had been allowed to chop up some dried fruit to “help” them, and to be honest, it had tired him out. But that also could have been having visitors at all, even if he couldn’t entertain them properly. He couldn’t even offer them a late lunch—although the rolls had been turned into sandwiches at some point, and he’d been instructed to finish one if he could.
Mallory asked what Robin had been up to—work—and Persephone told him about her job and how it was fine but not great, though she still wasn’t sure what she’d like to do, if anything. He was filled in on Rixon and Connor’s exploits, as well as Gwynn’s, the older sister and the one sent to soothe worried clients, and Patrick’s and Brian’s and Janie’s, not official adoptees but nonetheless a part of the family. He laughed at the story about the cousins who had nearly messed up a recent construction job, and was asked about his social life despite how obviously he didn’t have one. It seemed Rixon was the one to go to if Robin wanted to look for romance. At least, according to Persephone. Rixon, barely out of his teens, was popular enough with the girls that he had decided he should give romantic advice to everyone whether they wanted it or not.
Lucas had disappeared completely for a time, presumably off taking care of cobwebs. Robin had gotten up once to use the bathroom and seen the broom in the hallway, propped upagainst a small cabinet, with a very large, eerily silent bird sitting on the top. He had regretted not seeing Lucas with the broomstick in hand, even though it was a thoroughly modern instrument.
He couldn’t help but notice that the air in the hall felt lighter and the rooms were warm even with no fires burning.
He would miss the Greysmiths when they left, and said so, after trying—and failing again—to help Persephone and her mother pack up their handiwork. Gwynn was also due to provide something for the revels this year, although knowing her, she would simply buy something. But the Greysmiths would deliver Robin’s—their—efforts for him at the same time. Two thick, round fruitcakes that looked and smelled exquisite in that way that a dish of hard candy did; better looked at than eaten. Though Mallory was a believer in following recipes, so both had been made with liberal amounts of rum.
Three loaves of stollen, now also wrapped in plastic and sealed into containers, completed the set. Not what Robin would have made, but he appreciated Mallory’s sense of humor. Very few people in the coven were going to be delighted to see fruitcake or sweetened bread on the table, no matter how delicious some might find it.
Empty-handed and useless again, he followed mother and daughter down the hall, trying to discreetly look for what colors each of them favored since he’d have to make them something special now. But at least he’d take pleasure in it. It had been a long time since he had seen anyone wear something he’d made for them. Lucas… that would be easy; any color that wasn’t black. Or, notonlyblack. Something not at all simple or purely serviceable.
He'd put Lucas in a hooded cowl if it wouldn’t have made him look like he was going to a renaissance fair. He’d make a good Robin of the Hood, in looks if not in temperament. Lucas wasn’t going to laugh merrily while taunting a greedy man of the cloth. He was far too direct. Lucas, should he act, would leave bodies behind. Maybe that’s what frightened the coven members so; they had more in common with the sheriffs and friars in those tales.
“Best to beat the rain,” Mallory said, turning around in time to catch Robin mid-daydream.
“Hours yet,” Persephone opined, struggling with the bundle in her arms and the door. “We could stay a bit longer. We could have cookies and tea—real tea, not healing blends.”
Robin didn’t have any cookies, or tea, for that matter. But before he could say so, although making sure they knew they were welcome, Mallory gave him another shrewd look.
“Robin is getting tired and needs a rest, and his house is still not to rights. He can have us over when he’s settled again. Is that all right, Blessing? Better?”
“I… yes.” Robin wondered if any of her children had ever gotten a single thing by her. He doubted it. He would have had a much easier time trying to sneak things past his family, but then again, his family would have encouraged him to be wilder.
“And it was a pleasure to be in such a well-loved kitchen,” Persephone commented. “Not that ours isn’t, but in a practical way, like most kitchens. Yours trulybelongedto someone once and you can still feel it.”
Robin couldn’t but knew what she meant.
“Not to mention Connor is in ours this week.” Mallory sighed. “I think he wants to impress someone and is practicing. You know how that is.”
Robin didn’t but nodded politely. “Once I get to the store, I can prepare something.”
He had no idea how he was going to manage that and it must have shown on his face, or Mallory had dealt with many a reluctant patient, because she patted him on the shoulder. “Lucas is here so you can use him.”
Robin widened his eyes and shut his mouth.
Mallory continued, with no sign that she could read Robin’s thoughts and yet Robin was convinced she did. “But he really shouldn’t be driving in the dark and the rain, so if you send him out, do it early. Then he can manage something for your dinner. At least for tonight, let him take care of you.”
Robin felt like he’d been sampling the rum for the fruitcake. He tugged at the neckline of his sweater as if that would cool his face, then nodded, since Mallory seemed to expect something from him.
Mallory half-turned, sliding Robin another thoughtful look before gesturing to her daughter. “We’ll have to reconsider the summer schedule. Maybe the spring? Lucas would have to see to that. But there should be time for at least one major project like the roof.”
“The roof?” Robin repeated in fretful concern. “Thank you for trying to squeeze me in, but I can’t afford that yet.”
“You can’t afford not to.” Mallory’s tone was final, and since she knew more about roofs than Robin, he swallowed his argument and resolved to work on the math later. “Meanwhile,there is the rest of it. Lucas will see to that too, and let us know what else is needed.”
“Mallory,” Robin had to try, even with his throat tight, “I can’t…”
“Now, Blessing.” Mallory leaned down to lightly press their foreheads together. “This is how it would’ve been, before this town’s coven got mired in politics and pettiness and self-interest. We should have been here, and we weren’t. We’re just making up for lost time. But if it bothers you, then next year, you can make me some plum jam from those trees out there, if they still fruit. Or one of those wall hangings you used to make.”
Robin hadn’t worked on a tapestry in ages. For the time involved, there wasn’t enough of a market.
His throat locked, but he took a shaky breath before giving a nod.
Mallory patted him again and eased back. “If it’s leaks or a draft or something that’s been leaving you to sleep on the couch even before your illness, we’ll handle it. Won’t we, Lucas?”
Robin jumped when Lucas appeared from inside the office, sleeves rolled up, hair dusted with spiderwebs. Lucas looked significantly at Robin, as if he knew Robin hadn’t been sleeping in the living room for weeks because of any drafts upstairs, but all he said was, “Of course,” and kissed his mother on the cheek when she indicated he should before she left.
