"I think I am going to enjoy this century," Katrina says. She's standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, visible from the kitchen where Abbie is teaching Ichabod how to make something called a frittata if either of them lean a little bit backwards. "Certainly the shoes are more comfortable."
Abbie and Ichabod do, in fact, lean a little bit backwards. Ichabod chokes, and Abbie makes an approving sound. "Jeans," she says wisely. "Convince your husband to wear them too and we'll be set."
Katrina, who does appreciate jeans but was speaking mostly of the incredibly soft v-neck shirt she can't seem to stop touching, says, "Convince him yourself. The same methods work for you."
"I am right here," Ichabod says, aggrieved and sounding as if he is suffering the greatest wrong in the universe. "And my trousers are much more comfortable than you jeans."
"Wrong," Abbie replies, and directs his attention back to the stove before anything burns.
Katrina kicks off the shoes, which are indeed comfortable but Abbie has instituted a rule about shoes and early mornings spent at home, and pads out to the dining room. The tableware is easy to find, and table settings haven't changed that much during her time of entrapment. She does eye the refrigerator suspiciously for a moment – Abbie insists that there is no magic involved, but she isn't sure – before she rummages through it to find the orange juice and pour herself a large glass. Abbie prefers coffee and Ichabod tea, but Katrina hasn't managed to shake her enchantment with easily acquired citrus.
She sips, luxuriating in the tang, as Abbie scolds Ichabod for leaving the plastic spatula too close to the burner ("What did I say about plastic and heat?") and he watches Abbie fondly.
It took a little getting used to, learning that it was acceptable to be in love with another woman now. Abbie made a point of saying that some people wouldn't be understanding (of course they wouldn't; Katrina has lived through colonization and witch trials. There will always be people who get up in arms over the smallest things that aren't hurting anyone). Abbie also made a point of saying that what they have, the three of them, isn't generally acknowledged even now. Katrina can live with that, so long as no one tries to stop them.
She's lost too much. She won't lose this, even if the frittata comes out a little bit burned anyway and Abbie snags her glass for a sip of juice instead of just getting her own.