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Breakfast that morning was a quick meal of whole grain toast flecked with butter and drizzled with honey. Scarlett tore off the crust pieces with what she thought was subtlety and dropped them on the floor for the dog. The evidence was instantly devoured.

Reaching out for her cup of juice, she found that she could just barely brush her fingers against it. No doubt she’d have no trouble in her high chair, but ever since she’d been allowed to sit at the table while her younger cousin visited, she’d refused return to it. She was no longer an infant and would not be treated as such. Shooting a disdainful look at the forsaken chair (which had been shoved away into a corner in its disuse and piled junk upon), she crawled onto her knees in a desperate attempt to obtain her apple juice Almost there. She leaned forward as far as she could, groaning with the effort.

That caught her mother’s attention. She lifted her gaze from the newspaper. “Scarlett, sit down!”

“Juice,” she said pitifully, but obeyed the command. With a single, swift movement her mother pushed the cup closer to the table’s edge, just close enough for Scarlett’s small fingers to wrap around.

“Ask for help when you need it,” she scolded. “You’re three-years-old now, Lettie. You should know this.” The child refrained from comebacks of any sort- it wasn’t the time for sticking out her tongue or grunting, she could sense that her mother was not in the best of moods. Instead, she sipped pleasantly at her cup. It was the sort with a lid- after a couple attempts at a topless one her mother had determined that she was not yet ready for it despite her claims.

She fingered the fruit designs decorating the cup. Apple, orange, grapes, strawberry… her brows furrowed in concentration, attempting to recall the name of the scaly yellow fruit with bright green leaves sprouting from the top.

“Finish up, hon, we have to go.” Her mother frowned at the battered old watch she kept on her wrist at all times- a device that Scarlett never ceased to be awed by. She loved to watch the tiny hands move, to listen to the faint ticking noise emitting from it, and trace her fingers over the smooth gold rim.

Lifting up the last bit of toast, she set it on her tongue, sucking out the sweet buttery liquid before chewing and swallowing. As she did so, her mother set her favorite floppy red sun hat over her soft curls. “Wear it whenever you go outside,” she warned. “I don’t want you getting sunburned again.” Scarlett winced to recall her sore scalp. That was one thing she didn’t need to be reminded of.

“Can Panda come too?”

They both looked to the small black and white spotted dog still searching underneath the table for scraps.

“Are you sure? He’d frighten away Mabel’s cat and chase the chickens,” she said. “He’d probably bark at all the wild bunnies and deer and then dig holes in her garden. Would you really want that?”

“No,” she said after a moment of thought. While she could do without Miss Kitty, Mabel’s orange tabby who had given her a painful little scratch last week, she enjoyed watching the small gray rabbits hop about in the yard- and even the brown hens, although she’d been pecked once by the rooster.

“That’s what I thought,” she smiled. “Do you want me to pack you a lunch? Or is Mabel’s food suitable to your tastes?” Occasionally, Mabel served a distasteful dish such as tuna casserole, lasagna, chili, or stew, but on the whole her meals were quite appetizing. Besides, she was getting tired of peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese sandwiches.

“I want Mabel’s food.”

“All right,” she said. “Then let’s get going!” Clasping hands, the two strode out the kitchen door.

Only small puffs of clouds were visible in the sky. It was certain to be another scorching summer day. Not that this bothered either mother or daughter- they loved sunny weather. It only made them regretful that they couldn’t spend it together, lazing about at the river all day, or even simply relaxing at home as they’d done yesterday.

Lettie glanced back longingly at the little half blown up pool her mother had started. Having lost the pump, they’d sat outside together giggling and taking turns puffing air into it. Eventually, they had gone inside to take a lunch break and then proceeded to preoccupy themselves by making cupcakes, despite Charlene’s protests that it was too hot for baking.

“We’ll finish it next weekend.” Her mother must’ve noticed the way Scarlett hung back, and followed the direction her eyes were staring in. “Then we can plant those flowers Aunt Viv gave us.”

She squeezed her mother’s hand tightly as they sauntered down the dusty gravel road. Her mother didn’t own a car, so they walked everywhere. Fortunately, there were a couple shops (including a grocery store) within twenty minutes of their little stone cottage. At a ten minutes walk away, Mabel was their closest neighbor (excluding, of course, the many wild animals that had made their home in the wood near their house).

Anyhow, Lettie didn’t like riding in a car. The few times she had, she’d gotten carsick and vomited. She much preferred walking. She liked to take in the sights, to pause occasionally in order to pick a wildflower or a blackberry growing on the brambles on either side of the path. Obviously, it wasn’t always so enjoyable. On cold rainy days, for instance, it was considerably less pleasant- but still rather nice, all the same. After all, she did love puddle hopping and her mother was always there to keep her warm.

A sudden cool breeze whisked by, ruffling their hair and whispering in their ears. The trees waved their branches and the leaves rustled.

“Who are you waving at, Lettie?”

“The trees,” she responded vaguely. Part of her knew that they couldn’t see her, but, nonetheless, it seemed rude not to respond to their slow, stiff waves. Moaning and groaning, it sounded as though they took so much effort to do so.

An old, two-story farm house slowly entered their view. “There’s the witch’s house!” Lettie exclaimed.

Apparently, when Mabel’s husband had still been living, it had been an actual farm, complete with pigs, sheep, cows, and a fantastically large vegetable garden. It was beginning to look rather shabby nowadays, however. The vegetable garden had decreased considerably in size and the only animals she kept currently were the chickens, an old horse, and Miss Kitty.

“Scarlett, I told you to stop calling her that. Her name is Mabel,” Charlene said frowning. “You’ve never called her that to her face, have you?”

“No.” She didn’t see why it was such a bad thing either. Not all witches weren’t all bad- and Mabel was certainly one of the good ones.

As they neared the old faded red house, Lettie caught sight of the widow at work in her garden. She was picking weeds from the sight of it- a chore that Lettie was beginning to get quite good at when she was helping her mother. Occasionally, she did pull out a vegetable plant or two, but so did her mother (and they hastily threw them out before Mabel could notice the poor plants hanging limply in their hands).

“Good morning, Mabel,” Charlene called out. The woman’s head jerked up in surprise. She smiled toothily when she saw them.

“Well, hello there, girls!” she called back cheerily. Noticing the container of cupcakes in Charlene’s arms, her eyes widened. “My, you are trying to fatten me up, aren’t you, Charlie?” she scolded. “Last week, it was brownies, and this week it’s twice as many cupcakes as I could ever manage to eat.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll manage to find a couple helpers,” Charlene said with a grin. “Aren’t your grandchildren coming over for a visit soon?”

“Oh right,” she said nodding. “Not that I would share with them, in any case. Spoiled brats, the lot of them.” She shook her head sadly. “Nothing like your Scarlett, I’m afraid.”

“I can’t disagree there,” she said, absently twirling an auburn lock of Lettie’s hair around her finger. No one was like her Lettie.

“Pineapple.” The word had suddenly popped into the girl’s head. That was the fruit she had been trying so hard to recall.

Used to odd little outbursts such as this, the two women simply smiled affectionately at her. “Pineapples are very tasty. I don’t think you’ve ever had a fresh one before,” Charlene said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll pick one up from the store when I get off work.”

Scarlett kicked at the ground and puckered her brow. She didn’t want her mother going anywhere but home after work. To further show her misery at this suggestion, she let out a soft whimper and pulled at the skirt of her mother’s polka dot sundress. “Hey, stop that,” she said, giving her daughter a bemused expression. “What is it, kiddo? You can tag along if you want. We could go to the park afterward.”

“Sounds like fun,” Mabel said, surveying the younger woman with a twinkle in her eye. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee before you start your busy day?” Charlene hesitated. She had to be at work soon. She’d be cutting it close, but how could she pass up a freshly brewed cup of coffee?

“Sure.” Her boss, Bree (of Bree’s Bric-a-Bracs, the little junk shop at which she worked), was used to her showing up a couple minutes late. Plus, it was always so slow in the mornings.

The large farmhouse looked much smaller on the inside, the reason probably being that it was so cluttered with old family relics and heirlooms. Nonetheless, it was a still a somewhat orderly sort of clutter. Mabel kept everything pristine- she could not abide dust.

Once seated around the little circular table inside the dining room, Mabel leaned in closer to Charlene. “So, who are you trying to impress?” she asked in what she must’ve thought was a hushed tone. She had even patiently waited for Scarlett to vacate the room. Despite these pains she had taken in order for the child not to overhear their conversation, however, Scarlett- who happened to be in the room next door- heard every word.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, all right, play innocent,” she said. “Keep your secrets then.”

She heard her mother chuckle softly at this. “Well, now that you mention it, there was this guy that came into the store the other day. And he’ll be back in today, to pick up this old shelf.”

“Ah, I see...” Scarlett, sitting upon the floor of the living room beside Miss Kitty, did not. What exactly were they talking about? From the tone of their voices, it sounded as if it should be interesting, but from the contents of their speech, it was not.

She turned her attentions to the dozing cat. The feline’s pale orange underbelly was just visible. Powerless to resist the temptation, she cautiously reached out to tickle it. It was just as soft and fluffy as promised.

With a yowl, the cat was suddenly awake. And, using all four clawed paws, she clutched onto the hand invading her privacy.

Yelping in both pain and alarm, Scarlett snatched back her poor hand. And her mother wondered why she didn’t get along with the fat old beast! Nursing her wounds, she glowered at the tail end of the fleeing cat.

“Scarlett, are you all right in there?” Mabel and her mother both stood in the doorway, inspecting the scene. “Poor dear, you’re bleeding,” Mabel said, looking sympathetic. Her mother just looked exasperated.

“Lettie, how many times have I told you to leave Miss Kitty alone?” she demanded. Scarlett had no idea- was she really expected to keep track? “I’ll get the rubbing alcohol.”

“No!” Scarlett could clearly recall the last time her mother had gotten out the wretched bottle of rubbing alcohol. It had been after she’d fallen out of the tree in their backyard, receiving countless scrapes and bruises all over her legs and arms. “No alcohol,” she pleaded.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, Charlie,” Mabel said. “You should start heading to work.”

“If you’re sure…” Charlie said, shooting an anxious look at the blood welling from her daughter’s scratches.

“Positive.”

“All right. I’ll see you later, then.” Kneeling down, she gave Scarlett a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “Don’t get into any more trouble while I’m gone,” she whispered in her ear before returning to her feet.

“Bye, mom,” she said, her voice sounding wobbly, even to her ears.

As soon as her mother had departed, Mabel came forward and scooped the girl up in her arms. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, bringing her into the kitchen. “Now, you just sit here and eat this, while I clean it out.” The woman handed her a cupcake before getting to work.

Sniffling, Scarlett licked at the chocolate frosting. Very sweet, fluffy, and smooth of texture.

“This may hurt just a tad bit, but you’re a tough girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, taking another lick. Her mother always made a face when she ate cupcakes this way. Mabel didn’t seem to mind, but perhaps that was because she was too immersed in cleaning her injuries to notice. It did sting a little, though Mabel’s touch was very careful and tender, so she didn’t mind terribly. Also, the strange smelling herby substance she smothered over it soothed the pain greatly.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t approve of eating cupcakes this early in the morning, hmm?” Mabel asked as she put away her supplies. “It’ll just be between the two of us.” It was the second cupcake she’d had that day. When she’d woken up that morning both Lettie and her mother had eaten one- and then they’d proceeded to finish off the leftover frosting.

Scarlett decided that on this matter, silence was best.