Nick closed the gate from the mill pond that controlled the flow of water to the waterwheel. Once the waterwheel had stopped he went back into the mill to look at his mornings labour. He went to the last of the sacks that was still attached to the chute where the flour came out of the mill. He tapped the wooden chute three times to make sure he dislodged the rest of the flour into the bag. Then taking a handful he rubbed a pinch between his index finger and his flattened thumb. He decided this batch of flour would be fine.

Nick restacked the sacks of flour working up the courage to head back to the house. He loved his wife. And had many, many fond memories with her and their two children. However, in many ways he found the mill work easier. The last eighteen years he had spent in it all blended together. Dragging grain up into the loft, pouring it into the hopper. Bagging and checking the flour. Cleaning out the stone every season. It was hard to pick out one day from the next. He had the [labour of love] and [handy] which helped in his daily work.

Everyday in the house brought new challenges. Drew was a joy and Coglan would find himself one of these days. He was a sweet kid. But they had gone up to the falls for the day. It would be just Veruca in the house.

Nick exited the mill into the bright sunlight, leaving the scent of fresh-milled flour behind. He closed the door to the mill and brushed the flour off his clothes. It is a beautiful day today, Nick thought, reminding himself of all the good things in the world.

His shoulders hunched as he walked the forty steps to his house. He brushed off his boots on the matt out side and entered.

“Bread’s ready,” said Veruca, taking the tea towel of the golden round of bread.

“Thanks,” said Nick. He walked over to the counter and pulled off a chunk of the still cooling bread and poured himself a glass of water from the water jug. He sat down at the table by himself and started eating. The bread was dense and buttery and very much to his liking.

“Taxes are due soon,” said Veruca, chopping some onions and tomatoes in the kitchen.

Nick finished his bread, got up, and grabbed another piece off the loaf. Veruca, finished slicing the vegetables and put them in a bowl. She added some salt, and a bit of oil and vinegar and set the bowl before Nick, before heading back to the kitchen to clean up.

Nick started eating the salad with his bread. He was hungry and the vegetables were chilled from being stored in the underground cellar near the stream.

“You’re eating like a monster, Nick. No manners,” said Veruca. “If the Mayor were to see you eating like a hog or the Feldman’s you think they would let you mill their grain?”

Nick sat up straight and started eating in a more mannered fashion. “I don’t think that me eating like a hog, or a monster has any effect over whose grain I mill. What are they going to do, send it somewhere else?”

“They might” said Veruca, “if they saw how you ate.”

Nick finished his salad and bread and brought the bowl over to the wash basin and grabbed the cloth to wipe out his bowl.

“I’ve got that,” said Veruca, pushing him out of the way. “If your heading into town, see whether the Gardner’s have any cabbage for sale, and get some more white yarn. I’ve got plenty of grey left, but I’m running out of white.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“OK,” said Nick heading for the front door. “White or Red cabbage?”

“White,” said Veruca.

Nick grabbed his coin pouch and headed for the village. The path to the village followed the river for the first few minutes, crossed a small stone bridge then turned into a cobblestone road the flowed into the city. Nick was proud of the work he had done here and the work he had enabled others to do. It was the work of others here that would be his true legacy, if he ever thought about such things. Nick did not like to think too much though. He was a strong believer that overthinking could complicate things, and when things got complicated – that was when people started to get in fights.

The Village was something of which Nick could be proud. In the past twenty years they had divided up the land so that everyone had a place to live, build the mill, paved the streets, and built a permanent dock so that ships could go back and forth across the lake.

The walk to the village passed by the docks. Nick saw the barge was in and stopped by the office. The entrance was flanked by a covered porch with benches of old wood or the rowers to sit on when they needed to get out of the sun.

Walter was sitting at his desk doing paperwork when Nick walked in. The office was sparsely furnished and the desk took up half to room. In the corner was a well-crafted wooden cabinet, with a ledge on it for a pitcher; in the center of the room were a couple of chairs. The only decoration were the crossed oars hanging on each wall near the ceiling.

“Flour’s finished milling this morning”, said Nick.

“Morning Nick. Take it you’ll want the boys to come pick it up from the Mill and cart it down here?” said Walter.

“That would be much appreciated. Like to get it sold in Upper Abattoir sooner rather later. Don’t quite have the [skills] to get it down here myself in any reasonable amount of time,” Nick said siting down in a chair.

Walter got up from his desk and leaned out the door “Chuk! Pick up at the Millers!” He then turned to Nick, “That should do.” He leaned back out the window for good measure, “You hear me Chuk?!”.

A shout came back over the yard, “Yeah, I heard you bossman!”

“You want some beer?” Walter asked Nick.

“Yeah. Just a small one,” said Nick holding his thumb and pointer finger just a bit a part.

Walter took two large mugs from the table and filled them most of the way to the top, “It’s not full” he said handing the mug to Nick.

“It’s a bit much for this time of day,” said Nick.

“You’ll be fine,” said Walter.

“So when are we going to get that son of yours out on a boat? He’s old enough to get a job and help out the family. Not that you need the help, but you know what I mean. My boys have been out in a boat since they were at least his age.”

“He’s the right age. And we’ll have to see what he ends up doing. I still have him help out in the mill to get the hang of it,” said Nick. “It’s an art as much as a science.”

“I can see that. Shipping’s simple stuff. Load the barge. Row it across. Unload the barge. Reload the barge with new goods. Row it to the next town. Try not to tip. All forbid,” said Walter. But the thing about shopping is that we are always in need of strong backs. Not everyone has the Skills to make it a light thing to row, even just across the lake is an hour.

Nick drank deeply. “Seems like there are a few around that won’t be ready for tax time this year.”

“You know what’s wrong with you, you’re too kind. I heard what you did last year with the Feldmans. If they don’t have the money to pay their taxes when they are due, how are they ever going to pay you back. You must have had hell to pay from the wife on that one. “

Nick finished off the rest of his beer. “Thanks for the beer. Send the boys up to pick up the flour when the have time.”

“Don’t be sore about it,” said Walter. “No hard feelings”

Nick got out of the chair and headed towards the door. “Again thanks for the beer.”

Nick left the office and out in the sunlight. Walter yelled out the door behind him “Chuk you left yet to pick up the flour!”

“Just leaving, now. Didn’t know it was a rush,“ yelled Chuk.

Walter’s not as nice as I remembered, thought Nick. Might be best to send Colgan down next time something needs to be picked up. Or have him send up Chuk with the money from the sale.