Sienna watched as the company lighter lifted from the open yard of the Leone estate and headed back to the compound of St. Croix. Lucille's son, Leslie, was lugging her two bags at a lunging stumble up the steps to the manor door. The fertile smells of the surrounding fields mixed with the odors of bread baking in the kitchen and hung meats curing in the small smokehouse set against the outer wall of the holding. It was mid-morning here and the extended family of the Leone's was deep into the settled routines that maintained the homestead. Lucille had Sienna by both hands and welcomed her with a bright, warm smile.
"So happy to have you here," she said. "We have so little company these days. Avery is busy preparing the vine cuttings for the new planting, then he is to attend a council meeting of the holders, but he wanted to welcome you also, and looks forward to talking with you later today. Come in, I will show you your room and help get you settled in."
Sienna allowed herself to be drawn inside and up to the second floor.
The upstairs of the estate house was divided into two sections, although both were just sleeping quarters. One area, more utilitarian, consisted of a long hallway with eight bedrooms accessed by four doors set into each side, where those family members who worked the estate slept. The other area off a branching corridor held two suites; each included a small parlor and bath. These were the guest rooms used to house visitors and the occasional business traveler. Sienna was settled into one of these.
"Avery, my husband and I, have our personal rooms, and my son's, on the first floor, and the others don't use this corridor, so it is quiet here. Unpack and make yourself comfortable, come down when you are ready. I will be in the kitchen."
Lucille waved her son out of the room and left Sienna at the door with a quick hug. Sienna finished unpacking. She felt so helpless, being shuttled here and there at Gregory's whim. She had really needed that hug. The trip, the unpacking, the repacking and now here, had left her feeling wound up, and somehow abandoned.
Why does Gregory want me here with these people?, she thought. Just a few more weeks, why won't he let me stay with my father?
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She took out the small puzzle box, a gift from her father, and placed it on the dressing table. The box rattled when she placed it, though she didn't remember putting anything inside. She moved to pick the box back up, but returned to finish settling in instead, changing into simple jeans and a blouse before exiting to find her way downstairs.
The kitchen was redolent with the smells of spices and baking. Besides Lucille, there was a taller heavyset girl busy cutting up and packaging vegetables next to a blanching pot that merrily boiled on the nearby stove. The bread smells emanated from an anachronistic French flue oven built into a stone wall at one end of the room.
A quarter-open iron fire-door that sat below it showed licking flames deep within, supplied from a nearby bin of freshly split hardwoods. Sand colored counters were everywhere, obviously heavily used, but the room was quite modernly equipped with small appliances and conveniences. It looked much like any antique farm kitchen, one that had been updated over the decades. A result of its colonial heritage, Sienna could almost trace its history through three generations of additions and upgrades, could almost hear the arguments over what should stay and what should be replaced within it.
I should feel more out of place here. But these people are so accepting, it's hard to feel that way for long.
Lucille looked up as she entered and, wiping her hands on her apron, called the larger girl over for introduction.
"This is Gilda, my cousin's wife, from Herr Muller's estate near here. Gilda, this is Sienna Mavens. Her father is a scientist who works at the St. Croix compound. She is our guest for a while."
Gilda laughed and showed her still wet hands, saying, "Glad to know you. If there is anything I can help you with, please ask. My husband does the soil and produce testing here, and I can usually be found helping in the kitchen. We grow our own vegetables, bake our own breads and process most of our own foods, save for those items we trade with the other estates, so there is always something to do in here. I sometimes help with the pressing and bottling of the estate wine, which is our export, but I prefer to work the kitchen. We are playing cards tonight in the family parlor, if you stop by then I will introduce you to the rest of us. There will be cakes, and of course, wine. Do you play? Will you come? "
Again, the acceptance and instant warmth of these people enveloped Sienna, and another measure of tension drained away. They are so different from Gregory, I can't even begin to understand why they would do anything like putting me up at his request.
Sienna agreed she would try, and then insisted on helping Lucille finish baking the last few loaves of risen bread, and tried to make herself generally helpful for the balance of the morning.