Disclaimer: grrrhhh, can't a girl just make-believe?

A/N: *ducks under the barrage of furious readers throwing their laptops* Okay, okay, i'm a bad girl. *slaps hand* I'm a miserable updater. I don't deserve to have such dedicated fans of this story. You all are amazing. In my defense (I am the excuse queen) my laptop has been in the hospital these last two weeks and i've been relying on my roommate's laptop, which i kinda have have mild tinge of absolute hatred for. so i've been an unmotivated writer lately. anyway, Shaded Silvering Greyfinally gave me a kick in the butt so i've gotten off my lazy bazooka and back to work. Hugs to xl3utterflyx for an excellent critique. Points noted.

When Itachi pulled the car up to the Uchiha mansion and shifted into park, Sakura frowned. "Why are we here?"

"There is someone I want you to meet," he said. Then he stepped out and opened her door for her.

She hesitated.

A small smile tilted his lips. "I promise that nothing in this house will bite you."

Sakura rolled her eyes and hopped out. The man didn't have to be a snob about everything.

She followed him inside where he proceeded to give her what seemed like a tour of the mansion. He took her to a rather extravagant library where bookshelves rose from floor to vaulted ceiling, past an expansive office, upstairs where he knocked on some doors and peaked into others.

Finally, after Itachi re-emerged from another room with a frown on his face, Sakura lost her patience. "Call them."

He blinked at her. "Call who?"

"Whoever it is you are looking for. Call them already."

He shook his head. "There's no point. She never pays attention to her cell phone. I don't understand. She's always home in the evening." Then his dark eyes brightened. "But Sasuke might know…" He flipped out a cell from back pocket and dialed a number. He stood with one hand on his hip and the other holding the phone to his ear while he waited. Then, "Sasuke, where's Mother?...She's what?...For who's…but she can't…" His brow furrowed."You know she'll burn the whole place down…" He groaned and put away the phone. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Sakura waited with both brows raised until his eyes finally snapped open and he strode down the hall. Itachi led her back downstairs and down another hallway.

The first thing she noticed was the sheer size of the kitchen. Elegant cabinetry stretched through a space almost as big as Sakura's house. Beautiful granite countertop swirled across the cabinets and the stainless steel appliances appeared top of the line.

However, it was the woman humming away in front of a completely disorganized array of containers, bowls and scattered white powder that proved to be the kitchen's focal point. As Itachi brought her forward, Sakura realized the white powder was actually flour and all bowls and containers seemed to be some sort of baking project gone awry.

The black-haired woman appeared so caught up in mashing some sort of - Sakura squinted - dough?...that she didn't notice their approach until Itachi politely cleared his throat.

The woman glanced up and a wide smile split her face. "Itachi! How are you, darling?" Lively black eyes slid to Sakura. "And what have we here? I believe I saw you at Amaya's birthday party but I don't believe I caught your name?"

Itachi placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is Sakura, Mother. Remember Soya? Amaya's new friend? This is her older sister."

The smile slipped a little from the woman's face but immediately returned full force. "I see. Welcome to our home, Sakura. I'm Mikoto. I must say, I am curious for the visit." Mikoto gave her son an intrigued perusal. "My son is not one for bringing home beautiful young ladies. Ever."

Sakura blinked and glanced at Itachi. His face was smooth as a river stone. "Mother."

The woman beamed at him. "Yes, Son?"

"Sakura knows. About Father."

This time when the smile slid from her face, it stayed off. "Everything?"

He tilted his head. "Everything."

Mikoto's now saddened eyes moved to meet Sakura's."I'm so sorry, honey."

Sakura swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and lifted a shoulder in dismissal. "It's not your fault."

Itachi's mother slowly nodded. Then she gestured toward the heap of doughy, lumpy something under her hands. "Would you like to help me? I'm making some blackberry pies for Sasuke and Kohana's anniversary tomorrow."

"Sure…" Sakura said, eyeing the woman's progress. If that is pie dough, then I'm an elephant. Resisting the urge to shake her head, she stepped around the kitchen island that Mikoto was working on and came to the woman's side. Better than going home, she supposed. "What would you like me to do?"

"Roll up your sleeves, honey, and wash your hands. Then I'll have you work on the filling." The woman pointed to the bowl of blackberries set off to the side.

Once Sakura finished drying her hands, she turned around and scrunched her brow. She and Mikoto were the only ones left in the kitchen. "Where's Itachi?"

His mother shrugged as her fingers dug back into her dough. "He left. Probably went to his room. I'm sure he'll be back down later."

Sakura felt her brow twitch. He left me with his mother?

"Okay," Mikoto said cheerfully, "grab those blackberries and mix in some sugar." She pointed to a white container off to the side.

After pulling the bowl of blackberries closer, she reached for the sugar. "How much?"

The other woman shrugged. "Till it appears adequate?"

Sakura stared at her. "Do you, uh, have a recipe?"

"No, no," Mikoto waved her off with her hands. "No need. All up here." She tapped her temple with a flour-covered finger, leaving a trail of white dust behind. "Momma's old recipes. They never fail."

"Oh…" she said slowly. "Uh…" she poured in what looked to be a cup of sugar and hoped for the best. Grabbing a spatula, she folded the sugar into the blackberry mix while watching Mikoto plop some more flour on her dough mixture.

"Now what?" Sakura asked after she thought the sugar was sufficiently mixed.

The woman's eyes drifted to the high ceiling in thought. "I recall something about lemons and cinnamon. Just, ah," she pointed to three lemons in a basket on the opposite counter, "cut them open and squeeze over the blackberries. And you'll find cinnamon sticks," she stopped to think, "…somewhere. Hmm. Forget about them. Do the lemons for now."

"All three lemons?"

"Uh, yes. Why not?"

Not knowing whether to bang her head on the counter or giggle hysterically, Sakura grabbed the lemons and a knife. She consoled herself with the fact that no matter what happened to these poor pies, she doubted she would have to eat the final product.