Ansel so quick to work for cheap, but I suspect it’s some of both.
Sophia leads Ansel through the kitchen; there’s a loud clanking as he lifts, then drops, the toolbox—Sophia laughs. I hear a screen door squeal open, slam shut, then silence, broken apart only by the occasional muffled noise of Sophia and Ansel’s conversations.
The golden dog trots back in through the kitchen, panting; he stops to grab a rope toy before bounding over to me. He drops the toy and looks at me expectantly. A red leather collar is around his neck, with a silver name tag that says LUXE . I reach down and flip the name tag over. It reads THE KELLY FAMILY , followed by a phone number. Does Sophia constitute the whole Kelly family? I think just as she comes back inside and grins when she sees Luxe looking between me and the rope toy in anticipation. I toss it for him; he takes off after it gleefully, a clatter of nails on hardwood.
“He’s a lover, not a fighter,” she tells me, and I laugh. “I was just making some candied orange slices—want to come back here for some company that isn’t going to demand you play fetch?”
“I can help, if you want,” I offer, and follow Sophia into the kitchen. It’s brighter than the main shop area, with a huge window that opens out to the backyard. There’s a swing out there, and a shed with a padlocked door, not to mention more trees dripping with curling Spanish moss. I hear Ansel sawing away as Sophia opens the refrigerator and takes out a bowl of oranges, setting them down on an enormous stainless-steel counter. I take a seat on a bar stool on the other side. She grabs an orange and begins to peel it; I follow suit.
“I love making these, even though I end up eating more of them than I sell,” Sophia says absently, brushing the rinds into a little pile. “I swear, they’ve got magic powers or something. I can be having a terrible day, and I eat these and it feels like everything is right in the world.”
“You’ll have to sell some to Ansel and me later, then,” I joke back.
Sophia laughs. “I don’t know if my candy is powerful enough to fix a busted car, but it’s worth a try. Do you like almonds? You should try these. They’re my specialty,” Sophia says, pushing a tray of cooling chocolates toward me. They’re molded into little gingerbread men. “They’ve got gingerbread and caramel in them too,” Sophia adds.
I lift one of the gingerbread men and bite into it. It’s immediately clear why these are her specialty—they taste amazing. I feel light-headed almost, and the room gets warmer. The taste of gingerbread and chocolate spins through me and makes me feel… like before. I feel the excited, eager way we felt when we first set out into the forest, when we were on an adventure instead of running from a witch. When everything was happy and storybook and we were leaving a trail of candy in the leaves.
“So, what brought you two to Live Oak, anyway?” Sophia asks as I continue to feel as though I’m melting in front of her.
“Our stepmother threw us out because she couldn’t afford us anymore. Live Oak just happens to be where we ran out of money,” I say immediately.
“What’d you do to get thrown out?” she asks, surprised.
I shrug. “We exist? She never liked us. She just liked our dad, but he wasn’t really over our mother dying, and then he died—” I pause. Why am I telling her all this? I see Sophia’s eyes run over my multicolored hair and she shrugs, then starts peeling another orange.
“She sounds like a nut job. You and Ansel must be close, though, to hit the road together. Is it just the two of you?” she asks as I finish the chocolate. The almonds crunch and the warm feeling grows. Sophia picks up a knife and starts cutting an orange against the grain; the tart and lovely smell fills the room.
“It is now. I had a twin sister, but she vanished.”
Wait. Did I just say that? To a complete stranger? I blink. Guilt swims over me,
Sophia leads Ansel through the kitchen; there’s a loud clanking as he lifts, then drops, the toolbox—Sophia laughs. I hear a screen door squeal open, slam shut, then silence, broken apart only by the occasional muffled noise of Sophia and Ansel’s conversations.
The golden dog trots back in through the kitchen, panting; he stops to grab a rope toy before bounding over to me. He drops the toy and looks at me expectantly. A red leather collar is around his neck, with a silver name tag that says LUXE . I reach down and flip the name tag over. It reads THE KELLY FAMILY , followed by a phone number. Does Sophia constitute the whole Kelly family? I think just as she comes back inside and grins when she sees Luxe looking between me and the rope toy in anticipation. I toss it for him; he takes off after it gleefully, a clatter of nails on hardwood.
“He’s a lover, not a fighter,” she tells me, and I laugh. “I was just making some candied orange slices—want to come back here for some company that isn’t going to demand you play fetch?”
“I can help, if you want,” I offer, and follow Sophia into the kitchen. It’s brighter than the main shop area, with a huge window that opens out to the backyard. There’s a swing out there, and a shed with a padlocked door, not to mention more trees dripping with curling Spanish moss. I hear Ansel sawing away as Sophia opens the refrigerator and takes out a bowl of oranges, setting them down on an enormous stainless-steel counter. I take a seat on a bar stool on the other side. She grabs an orange and begins to peel it; I follow suit.
“I love making these, even though I end up eating more of them than I sell,” Sophia says absently, brushing the rinds into a little pile. “I swear, they’ve got magic powers or something. I can be having a terrible day, and I eat these and it feels like everything is right in the world.”
“You’ll have to sell some to Ansel and me later, then,” I joke back.
Sophia laughs. “I don’t know if my candy is powerful enough to fix a busted car, but it’s worth a try. Do you like almonds? You should try these. They’re my specialty,” Sophia says, pushing a tray of cooling chocolates toward me. They’re molded into little gingerbread men. “They’ve got gingerbread and caramel in them too,” Sophia adds.
I lift one of the gingerbread men and bite into it. It’s immediately clear why these are her specialty—they taste amazing. I feel light-headed almost, and the room gets warmer. The taste of gingerbread and chocolate spins through me and makes me feel… like before. I feel the excited, eager way we felt when we first set out into the forest, when we were on an adventure instead of running from a witch. When everything was happy and storybook and we were leaving a trail of candy in the leaves.
“So, what brought you two to Live Oak, anyway?” Sophia asks as I continue to feel as though I’m melting in front of her.
“Our stepmother threw us out because she couldn’t afford us anymore. Live Oak just happens to be where we ran out of money,” I say immediately.
“What’d you do to get thrown out?” she asks, surprised.
I shrug. “We exist? She never liked us. She just liked our dad, but he wasn’t really over our mother dying, and then he died—” I pause. Why am I telling her all this? I see Sophia’s eyes run over my multicolored hair and she shrugs, then starts peeling another orange.
“She sounds like a nut job. You and Ansel must be close, though, to hit the road together. Is it just the two of you?” she asks as I finish the chocolate. The almonds crunch and the warm feeling grows. Sophia picks up a knife and starts cutting an orange against the grain; the tart and lovely smell fills the room.
“It is now. I had a twin sister, but she vanished.”
Wait. Did I just say that? To a complete stranger? I blink. Guilt swims over me,
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