Fifty-two-year-old Celandine looked at her twin six-year-old daughters, who were covered in flour. “Tell me again what you were trying to do.”
Kisa, the bolder of the two, spoke up. “We was tryin’ to bake!”
“Bake what?” Celandine asked.
The girls looked at each other. “We hadn’t figgered that out yet.” Autumn said softly.
Matthias walked in and stopped short. “Well, well well! I never thought I’d see this again. Celandine Brandybuck, white as a blizzard.”
“I appreciate the comparison, now come here and discipline your daughters.”
“My daughters?”
Celandine smiled. ‘They take after you when it comes to flour.”