Chapter 14:
Our Whole Family!
EVERY DAY, I WAS BUSY WITH PREPARATIONS TO open my workshop with Katya’s help. We used a revised three-story building plan we had drawn together to discuss construction with our carpenter, then finalized a contract. I commissioned a custom spell from a magic shop for my medicine storage room, which used Space-Time magic to halt time itself, preventing degradation of the special effects of my potions.
Once construction began, I visited the site at least once a week to check on progress. When the kitchen on the first floor was done, I visited with Miina to confirm the layout and the size of the equipment and shelves we would need. Likewise, when the laboratory area was completed, I went with Marcus to arrange for lab stools and potion storage. Dan and Marcus helped me develop the new herb garden. I began to sow seeds and transplant seedlings from my old garden to ensure a smooth transition to the new one.
Somewhere amid those busy days, I turned nine years old. This would be my final year living at my family home, and I spent it diligently preparing for the future.
Spring passed, while the blackberries ripened in the forest behind the house. Then came summer, when the roses were in full bloom in the garden. Now it was fall, the season of harvest.
One evening, just as I was about to return to my room to go to bed, I spotted Father alone in the garden with his back turned toward the house. He looked so lonely in the darkness that I slipped into a warm jacket and went outside to join him. The chilly air caressed my hands and cheeks.
“Father.” I reached out and gently took hold of his nightshirt.
“The stars are so beautiful tonight,” he said, looking upward.
Countless stars twinkled in the deep indigo sky, as if they were in a competition to see which could shine the brightest. The moon was a faint, delicate crescent tonight.
Father knelt down and slipped his hands under my knees, easily lifting me into his arms to hold me in the crook of his elbow.
“When spring comes, you’ll be moving into your workshop, and Remus will head to the academy dormitory. The year after that, Dahlia will join him. The house will feel so lonely.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Just like Father said, Remus would be turning twelve next spring and enrolling at the national academy for formal training as a Mage. And then Dahlia would attend the year after.
We siblings, all a year apart, would be leaving home one after the other.
“Children grow up far too quickly. I wish time would slow down.” His arms tightened around me. “When you were assigned Alchemist at your Baptism, I was worried about how I could best support you. But you took to it like a fish to water. You became an Alchemist favored by the king even while still a child, and now you’re about to go out on your own. I hardly get the chance to take care of you as your father anymore.”
A single shooting star streaked quietly across the sky, as if the heavens were weeping in place of my father who refused to cry.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I said. “I want to stay by your and Mother’s side too, but I want to live freely as an Alchemist just as much.” My heart ached and I buried my face against his shoulder.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Daisy,” he assured me. “You should live your life as you please. Your potential is far too great to be confined within this estate. I want to be near you, but I have no desire to keep you from your potential. I said it before at your Baptism, remember? Mother and I will always support you as an Alchemist.” He gently stroked my hair as he spoke.
“I don’t think I want to sleep alone tonight, Father,” I said. “May I sleep with you and Mother in your bed?” I looked up, making a rare request. I just wanted a little more time in the warmth of his arms. I wasn’t quite ready to let go.
He smiled gently at me, his mouth reminding me of the crescent moon above. His adoring gaze softened even more.
“Of course. I’ll grant any request for my beloved daughter.” He kissed my forehead and carried me into the house. That night, I snuggled into Father and Mother’s bed, and we shared stories from when I was little. Then I fell asleep in my father’s warm embrace. It was one of the most precious nights of my life.
✦ ✦ ✦
The next day, I sat across from Miina at the kitchen table. The two of us were plotting something.
“You want to create a dessert that your family will remember forever?” She tipped her head and thought for a while. Then she said, “Hang on a second,” and disappeared into the back of the kitchen before returning with a book. She flipped through it and explained how to make a thin cake. I couldn’t see how this plain looking sponge cake would be a memorable dessert at all; it didn’t even look that delicious.
But then she continued explaining her idea. “There’s a kind of batter you make by whipping eggs to make it fluffy. Then, if we bake a large sheet of it and layer it with cream…”
“Oh, Chantilly crème!” I said. “That sweet whipped cream made from cow’s milk and sugar! I’ve heard it’s delicious.”
“Let’s give it a try!” We looked at each other and grinned.
The next day, we tested the recipe.
First, we started with the batter. We set a mixing bowl over a bowl of warm water, cracked in the eggs, added sugar, and whisked it all together with a large fork until the mixture turned pale and thick. Whipping with a fork was very hard; I struggled to get the right consistency. Miina saw me having a hard time and stepped into help, using two forks with practiced ease. Next we sifted in flour and stirred it into the batter with a spatula until well mixed. Then, we added warm milk and melted butter and gently folded those in. We poured the batter into a greased baking dish and popped it into a preheated oven. We only made one large sheet since it was just a test, and we’d cut that into four layers later.
Next came the Chantilly crème. We opened the wooden casing of my large centrifuge and placed a glass container of milk inside, sealed it, and began to crank the handle. The glass container inside began to turn, separating the cream from the liquid. We repeated the process until we had enough cream for our recipe. Then we added sugar to the separated cream and transferred it to a bowl. Beneath that, we nested the bowl inside a slightly larger container filled with ice water, then began to whisk again, this time with forks, until we achieved stiff peaks.
That was our first test version. Miina had a clear image in her head of how she wanted the final product to look, so I left the assembly to her. She set down a layer of cake, spread a generous layer of Chantilly crème over it, then stacked another cake on top. Once the layers were built, she carefully trimmed off the edges to create an even square. Then she spread the remaining Chantilly crème all over the sides to finish the cake.
I couldn’t help but feel like it looked a little plain.
“I think it needs some sort of decoration on the top,” she said.
“I agree,” I said with a nod.
“Let’s try tasting it for now.” Miina cut the cake in half. We could see the alternating layers of cake and cream in the cut slice.
“Hmm, I’d like it to look a little more impressive,” she said, disappointed. Her tail drooped beneath her apron. She plated two slices of the cake and set out dessert forks.
I took a bite. The cake and crème melted in my mouth, smooth and light. It was very good, but…
“I think it needs a bit more contrast between the sweetness and texture,” I said.
Miina agreed.
“How about jam? We could strain blackcurrant jam to remove the seeds and spread it on the bottom cake layer,” I suggested.
“Oh, that would be a good contrast to the sweetness!” she said, nodding. “And let’s see…” She thought for a moment. “What if we use poached pear, since it’s autumn? We already have some preserved compote. Let’s try it!”
We put together a second test cake using blackcurrant jam and pear compote.
“It’s delicious!” we both declared.
Even the plain-looking sliced cake now had a lovely contrast between the vivid red of the blackcurrant and the soft color of the pear. The sweetness of the blackcurrant jam and pears added just the right flavors to break up the simplicity of the crème. Plus, the slightly crisp texture of the pear was a wonderful contrast as well.
“What should we do about the top? It needs a decoration,” I asked Miina.
She tipped her head to the side, just like I did. “What if we filled a piping bag with a dark-colored syrup and used it to write a message on top?” she suggested. “Maybe a blackcurrant sauce, so it doesn’t throw off the balance of flavors? That would certainly leave an impression!”