Chapter 5
Chapter 53
A Walk Through Veilmarket
Morning arrived quietly at Elara's house.
Sunlight slipped through the tall windows and rested across the wooden floorboards. Somewhere downstairs, a fire crackled in the kitchen hearth, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone setting plates upon a table.
Isadora woke slowly.
For several moments she did not remember where she was.
Then she heard birds outside.
Not the distant calls she was accustomed to hearing around Breedlove Manor, but a whole collection of them.
She smiled.
The Evergreen Veil had its own morning song.
When she entered the breakfast room, Elara was already seated.
A pot of tea stood between them.
There was fresh bread, butter, eggs, warm potatoes, sliced apples, and a small dish of honey.
Isadora looked at the table.
"You said something was waiting in the kitchen."
"I did."
"This is more than something."
Elara smiled.
"I was raised to believe that guests should never leave a table hungry."
"That sounds like a Breedlove belief."
"Perhaps it is."
Isadora sat.
For the first few minutes, they simply ate.
The bread was still warm.
The butter melted against it immediately.
Outside, a wagon passed along the road.
The sound of wooden wheels faded into the distance.
Finally, Elara placed her teacup down.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"Veilmarket."
Isadora looked amused.
"I thought we were having breakfast."
"We are."
"We have."
"Then we may as well see what everyone else is doing."
Isadora laughed.
"Very well."
By the time they reached Veilmarket, the community was fully awake.
The streets were busy without being crowded.
Farmers unloaded baskets of vegetables.
A butcher arranged fresh cuts behind his counter.
A woman carried a bundle of folded cloth toward the seamstress's shop.
Two young boys hurried past with fishing poles balanced over their shoulders.
A group of older women stood outside the bakery discussing the price of apples while a young girl waited impatiently beside them.
The smell of bread filled the air.
Isadora breathed it in.
"That bakery has not changed."
"You remember it?"
"I remember buying cinnamon bread there."
Elara looked at her.
"You have been here more than once."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
Isadora smiled.
"I was younger then."
"So was I."
They continued walking.
At the blacksmith's shop, sparks rose briefly into the morning air.
The blacksmith worked beside his apprentice, shaping a piece of iron beneath the steady rhythm of his hammer.
Across the street, a bookseller arranged new arrivals in the front window.
Near the market square, a woman sold eggs and fresh cheese from a wooden stall while her daughter carefully counted coins.
Nobody stopped simply because Elara had arrived.
Nobody stared because Isadora was with her.
The Evergreen Veil had work to do.
Life continued.
And somehow, Isadora found that comforting.
"You know nearly everyone," she observed.
"Not everyone."
"Enough."
Elara nodded.
"I have lived here a long time."
"You chose this place."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elara was quiet for a moment.
"Because I could."
Isadora turned toward her.
Elara continued walking.
"My family name opened doors in some places. It closed others. Here, I could decide what I wanted my life to be."
There was no bitterness in her voice.
Only certainty.
Isadora understood that.
More than Elara probably realized.
"Independence matters to you."
"Very much."
"And family?"
Elara looked toward the market.
"Family matters too."
A small pause followed.
"Those two things can be difficult to balance."
"Yes," Isadora said softly. "They can."
They reached the river.
The Evermere moved steadily beneath the morning light.
A small boat travelled downstream carrying crates beneath a canvas covering.
Along the bank, fishermen prepared their lines.
A pair of children skipped stones into the water while an older man watched them from a nearby bench.
The scene was so ordinary that Isadora found herself smiling again.
"You really love this place."
Elara looked at the river.
"I do."
"Even with all its gossip?"
Elara laughed.
"Especially with all its gossip."
Isadora laughed with her.
For the first time, the sound between them felt familiar.
They walked beside the water.
"I was worried when I first met you," Isadora admitted.
Elara glanced at her.
"Worried?"
"That you might resent me."
"Why would I?"
"Because family histories are complicated."
"They are."
"And people remember things differently."
"They do."
Isadora stopped.
"So you don't?"
Elara stopped beside her.
"I have learned that remembering something differently does not always mean one person is lying."
Isadora studied her face.
"No," she said. "It does not."
A breeze moved across the river.
Elara's hair shifted against her shoulder.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Elara smiled.
"Come."
"Where now?"
"Somewhere you will remember."
They turned from the river and walked toward a quieter street.
At the end stood the Blue Lantern.
The familiar blue shutters caught the sunlight.
A lantern hung above the door even though it was morning.
Isadora stopped before entering.
"I remember this place."
"I thought you might."
Elara opened the door.
A bell sounded overhead.
Warmth surrounded them.
Books lined the walls.
Pressed flowers rested between glass panes.
Old maps hung from wooden frames.
A collection of antique keys sat beneath a small glass cover.
Somewhere behind the counter, a kettle whistled.
The shopkeeper looked up.
"Elara."
Then she saw Isadora.
Her smile widened.
"Well."
Isadora laughed.
"It has been a long time."
"Too long."
The woman reached beneath the counter and brought out a small wrapped parcel.
"I wondered when someone would come looking for this."
Isadora looked at Elara.
Elara looked back.
Neither spoke.
The parcel was placed gently upon the counter.
But before Isadora could reach for it, the shopkeeper smiled.
"Tea first."
Isadora laughed.
"Apparently that is the rule of this community."
Elara smiled.
"It is a very good rule."
And together, they followed the shopkeeper toward the little tea room at the back.
Outside, Veilmarket continued its ordinary morning.
Wagons rolled.
Children laughed.
Hammers rang.
The river moved.
The bakery doors opened and closed.
And beneath the ancient evergreens, two women who had once been strangers were beginning, very slowly, to become something neither had expected.
Not yet family.
Not yet close friends.
But no longer strangers.
