Post by NubianWitch on May 22, 2011 21:12:19 GMT -5
Lip quivering, Piper blew strands of hair out of her face, eyes sharpening on the pot bubbling with water and spices. Streams of daylight fell across the counter, haloing about the Book of Shadows open to a weathered page of an Herbal Calendar. Clack. Clack. Footsteps reached her ears from the butler pantry, and a pair of legs whiter than lilies pranced by the doorway.
“G'morning, Piper,” said Paige, her mouth curving into a smile.
Piper's eyes did not move from the pot. “Morning.”
Marching to the fridge, Paige wrenched it open, nose wriggling in horror at the aroma of spoiled milk clogging the passageway to the kung pao chicken. “Eugh! This is nasty! Who left this in here?”
“Yeah, I know,” Piper glanced up with a grimace, drawing out her words. “It was Phoebe's turn to clean out the fridge last week, but, she bailed. She's a busy lady.”
Paige's eyebrows cocked. “Oh. I see. So whatcha doing?”
Piper felt her chest tighten. Her teeth clamped to her lip. What was Paige doing? Didn't she understand that she wanted to be alone? That a year ago this day Prue had been blasted through the conservatory wall, her eyes shut, never to open them again? She slid onions into the pot, covering the lid, savoring the pungent scent on her fingers before wiping them with a dish-towel. Prue used to love onions.
“Oh, just working on some vegetable stock,” Piper lied through her teeth. Guilt's twinge pinched at her throat. “Well, not really vegetable stock. It's salty...water. Grams always used to just blend a bunch of things together when she was thinking hard about something. I kinda picked up the trait. Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme. Those were her favourite herbs. The classic ones.” Piper shut the book gently with her be-ringed hand.
“Sometimes I really wish I had met her.” Paige's eyes went bright with a granddaughter's inspiration. “She sounded amazing.”
“Yeah,” whispered Piper, “so was Prue.”
“G'morning, Piper,” said Paige, her mouth curving into a smile.
Piper's eyes did not move from the pot. “Morning.”
Marching to the fridge, Paige wrenched it open, nose wriggling in horror at the aroma of spoiled milk clogging the passageway to the kung pao chicken. “Eugh! This is nasty! Who left this in here?”
“Yeah, I know,” Piper glanced up with a grimace, drawing out her words. “It was Phoebe's turn to clean out the fridge last week, but, she bailed. She's a busy lady.”
Paige's eyebrows cocked. “Oh. I see. So whatcha doing?”
Piper felt her chest tighten. Her teeth clamped to her lip. What was Paige doing? Didn't she understand that she wanted to be alone? That a year ago this day Prue had been blasted through the conservatory wall, her eyes shut, never to open them again? She slid onions into the pot, covering the lid, savoring the pungent scent on her fingers before wiping them with a dish-towel. Prue used to love onions.
“Oh, just working on some vegetable stock,” Piper lied through her teeth. Guilt's twinge pinched at her throat. “Well, not really vegetable stock. It's salty...water. Grams always used to just blend a bunch of things together when she was thinking hard about something. I kinda picked up the trait. Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme. Those were her favourite herbs. The classic ones.” Piper shut the book gently with her be-ringed hand.
“Sometimes I really wish I had met her.” Paige's eyes went bright with a granddaughter's inspiration. “She sounded amazing.”
“Yeah,” whispered Piper, “so was Prue.”