'Tomorrow will be a cool, but sunny, spring day.'

The talking head chatters on as Papa examines a cocoon and Mama stirs a pot of fitfully bubbling soup. I continue to make notes in a book, reminding myself to read over the passages twice. Since my mother made the discovery that Papa and I colluded to avoid giving the farmer's grandson – sorry, Jack - her precious cake, she's taken to punishing us both in exactly the same way: she forces us to sit out front with her. She could have hardly devised a more effective punishment, as we both need quiet to work effectively, and she enjoys leaving the television on, even if she isn't actively watching it.

Papa is chafing under the strain of unnecessary white noise; he drops his polishing tool twice in ten seconds. He must feel my eyes on him, as he glances up at me and our eyes mirror our mutual chagrin. So be it; we knew the consequences of defying Mama.

"Soup's on!" she announces brightly as she heaves the cast-iron pot towards the squat, three-legged spider on the table. It serves a useful purpose, to permit a hot pot to sit on the table without risk of singing the tablecloth. Mama bought it from the Asian peddler who regularly comes through the town. He convinced her that it would make a charming addition to her table setting. Papa thinks it's hideous; I agree. Neither of us has nerve enough to throw it away.

We approach the table and seat ourselves as Mama carefully ladles out spicy seafood chowder. It smells good, but pleasant aroma is not the best way to judge my mother's cooking. One of the worst cakes she's ever made smelled magnificent due to the stewed pumpkin. Unfortunately, she used three cups of salt instead of sugar and…well, Papa's stomach took a week and a half to settle.

After a cursory blessing, we begin to eat. There's a thick broth containing fish, flour dumplings, potatoes, carrots, peppers and the requisite herbs. The food is actually quite good, but the silence is oppressive, so much so that I can hardly swallow. Papa is eating quickly; it must be close to 7:30, the time when he heads to the bar. Mama looks as though she wants to speak, but realizing that her audience isn't there, continues to sip her soup.

My spoon rattles against the empty bowl, catching her attention. "Would you like more, Maria?"

"No thanks," I murmur.

She gives me a cool glance and purses her lips. "You know, if the two of you think that sitting around sulking is going to help matters, you can both just think again. We're a family, and forgive me for being old-fashioned enough to think that we ought to act like one every now and again. There's absolutely no reason for the two of you to spend all of your waking hours holed up in your rooms instead of talking like normal people."

"Normal people like to do various things," I point out, "and they don't necessarily involve talking."

Her glare becomes stony. "Your idea of 'normal' is a little skewed, Maria. Do you have any idea what the girls your age like to do for fun? How many of them enjoy poisonous mushrooms for gifts? Which of them ever spent four hours on Mother's Hill watching bugs?"

"Enough," Papa says, more harshly than is his wont. "Anna, you can talk to me when I come back if you have a problem. But I won't have you speak to Maria like that."

"Of course not!" Mama rips the linen napkin from her neckline and throws it down. "How dare I want anything more! How dare I ask for something as mundane and average as wanting my husband and daughter to enjoy something that I like to do! Goddess' sake, how long am I supposed to just sit here quietly while you and Maria enjoy your club for two and laugh at me for wanting to do something that doesn't involve nature? Don't come back tonight, Basil. I don't want to see you." Sweeping away majestically, she marches up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door for emphasis.

Papa shrugs indifferently, though his face tells a different story. "Well, I guess I'll stay at the Inn tonight. Will you stay here, Maria?"

"I'll probably be at Elli's."

"Sounds good. Oh…" He turns back, hand on the door. "Had you planned to go to the Spring Goddess Festival?"

"I suppose I'd better. Mama's angry enough as it is."

"Right. Well, I'll escort you, if you'd like."

I don't answer, but I don't have to. Unspoken communication is something that he and I have had quite some time to perfect. "Goodnight, Papa."

As the front door closes quietly, I struggle with the kettle of stew, finally managing to get it onto the counter. Then comes portioning and wrapping and sealing, and all is put away. I take the rough sponge and the slimy brown soap and begin to scrub the deep pot, the monotony of cleaning soothing to my nerves.

My mother seems to be unaware that Papa and I don't enjoy fighting with her. If anything, we simply want to be left alone to pursue our academics. I, in particular, don't enjoy watching television all that much, fashion means next to nothing to me, and ever since three years ago I have an intense dislike of meaningless gossip. I know that it bewilders her to have two people in the house so unlike herself, but I've tried to participate in things that she considers enjoyable, and I just don't feel the same at all. Being myself, there's really nothing I can do to please her. It's a shame; she would have been much happier with a daughter like Popuri.

The aged, pitted pot is clean. Turning it over to dry, I squeeze out the sponge, set it aside and extinguish the gas lights. It's as quiet as a mouse in here, and despite everything that has happened tonight, I pity her in her intense loneliness. I wonder just how much she regrets her marriage.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, I slip out. Fortunately, Elli lives just next door. Neither of my parents is keen on my walking in the dark, despite my protestations that nothing at all happens here.

'You never know,' Mama said ominously the last time the subject came up. 'I suppose you haven't heard about the young lady three villages over who was attacked while walking to a friend's house less than a mile away.'

'Mama, she was bitten by a dog.'

'The point is, the shorter the distance you walk alone, the better. Now would you stop fighting with me?'

"Hi, Maria," Stu says, holding the door open as I enter into the comforting brightness of the house. Ellen is dozing, but my entrance awakens her quickly enough.

"Oh, Maria! So pleasant to see you. I suppose you're looking for Elli?"

"Sort of. I was actually wondering if you would allow me to spend the night."

Ellen's expression becomes somber. "Yes…I heard. You're certainly welcome to stay, of course, but Elli won't be home for some time. One of the youngest colts stepped on Barley's foot and broke three of his toes. In fact, we're expecting Elli to bring May over just as soon as they get the bones set."

"Ah…" I say softly. She's right, of course; I had been hoping to unburden myself to Elli. "Well…" I try again.

"You should go look for Karen on the beach. She's always there this time of night."

Excellent idea. I thank her, and after situating her quilt a little more snugly around her soft shoulders, I leave.

The cobblestones radiate warmth as I pass by the Market, which is currently ringing with the shrill sound of an angry voice. Sasha and Jeff are in the middle of one of their frequent quarrels, but Jeff can't run off afterwards to palliate himself at the bar; he has no tolerance for alcohol. Besides, they make up very easily.

Pastor Carter is playing the organ inside of the locked church. Its haunting dissonance and the pale moonlight washing over the cold marble of the graveyard stir feelings of unreasonable terror, and I break into a run. By the time I reach the seashore, I'm panting and wilted.

"Who's there?" Karen turns, startled by the noise I'm making. The pallid light makes her long hair glow, and she resembles nothing so much as a fairy queen, dancing along the breakers. As she sees me, she visibly relaxes. "Maria, don't run up on people like that! I thought you were a ghost!"

"Sorry," I wheeze. "Can we talk for a little bit?"

"Sure," she says and nimbly skips out to the edge of the pier before plopping down and dangling her long legs over the edge. I follow more slowly.

We don't begin immediately. Karen's moody, like her mother, and her parents' dissensions infuriate her, more so because Jeff rarely fights back. I wait for her signal to start, occupying myself in the meantime with staring down the mist that rises from the waves in thick plumes.

Eventually, she drops back onto the rough wood, lying prone. "Okay. Spill."

"They're fighting again," I reply. "She's kicked him out."

"For keeps, or for the night?"

"The night."

"You left too?"

"Yeah."

She sighs and grabs up a clump of coppery hair, staring at the ends. "I don't get it. Why do aggressive women marry passive men and get angry when they're passive? You'd think people would learn." She stretches her limbs out and sits up by coiling in a ball and balancing on her tailbone. "That's why I'm going to marry Rick no matter what. Because he knows damn well what he wants and he has no problem telling me when he thinks I'm wrong. I hate to see a couple so unevenly matched that one person just gets the hell beaten out of them any time they open their mouth. It's even worse when they have a kid stuck in the middle. I mean, at least my parents try to get me out of the house when they're fighting. Why would anyone want their kid to see them abusing their spouse verbally?" Gracefully, she lowers her legs back down to the dock. "Anyway. You going to the Goddess Festival?"

"I suppose."

She looks at me narrowly. "With Jack?"

"With Papa."

"Oh," she says, mysteriously. There's emotion behind that 'oh', but I can't figure it out on my own. It couldn't be relief, because she just said that she wants to marry Rick.

Can't it?

"I think that Jack's going alone. Everyone already had their date before he came along." She blows her breath out forcefully, and we both watch as it turns into a vaporous cloud before melting away on the strong breeze. "Gray's really upset with his grandfather for not letting him go with you. I don't think he's going to be here long. All they do is fight."

It seems like everyone fights. Ann and Doug fight. Saibara and Gray fight. Duke and Manna fight. Sasha and Jeff fight. Popuri and Rick fight, though to be fair, Rick fights with nearly everyone. "They're from two different worlds. Saibara thinks that Gray's undisciplined, and Gray thinks that Saibara's unfair."

"They're probably both right." She blows another steam cloud before breaking out into hysterical laughter. "Oh, Goddess, Maria, what if that's it all along? People are fighting because neither of them will admit that the other has a point. Oh, that's rich." She laughs again before coughing. "It's getting cold. Must be near ten. We should go home."

When I open the door of Elli's house, she's made it home, standing next to the stove to snatch the teakettle off the burner as soon as it begins to whistle. Stu and May are bundled up together in a heavy quilt, both children snoring quietly. Ellen is still in her chair next to the fire, having fallen into stupor once more.

"Maria!" she says, carefully adding two teaspoons of sugar to a small mug that already contains milk. "I was just about to send the Doctor out for you. You've been on the beach, I see?"

I blush as I realize that I've tracked sand into the neat house. "Sorry about that."

"No worries," Elli answers quickly, pouring the fragrant liquid into the mug. "I guess your parents have given it up for the night. Someone said they saw your mother prowling near the entrance to the Inn, waiting for your father to come out, but he never did and she went home again. Sasha and Jeff were still going by the time I left the clinic."

"How's Barley?" I accept a cup that she offers me, but decline sugar and milk in favor of strong tea.

"Lousy. He's in a lot of pain. Seems that the colt is overly skittish because they don't have a regular place to keep it. His barns are so full that they have to move it wherever they can from night to night. Tonight was probably just the last straw." She sips cautiously. "He'll be okay as long as the bones heal right and there's no infection. But he's a tough old man and he drinks a lot of milk. I think he'll be fine with a few days of bed rest."

We drink silently.

The tea done, she lends me one of her full length nightgowns and we take the second, unused bed. I'm not used to having a crackling fire going less than twenty feet away from me while I try to sleep, but the warmth feels good on my back and I've drifted off before I know it.

I wake up before anyone is stirring, dress and head straight to the Inn. Naturally, it's not open, but I'm not averse to waiting.

My patience is quickly rewarded, as Ann comes marching out promptly at seven with a basket on her arm. "Maria! How are you? Come on, I was just headed to the Waterfall to fish." She tromps off without waiting for a response or indeed, even checking to see if I'm following her. Sheepishly, I follow.

She's caught two good-sized fish by the time I struggle to the top of the hill. "So! Would you believe that Dad's already on the prowl? Jack steps into the place and Dad's already asking him if he thinks I'm cute!" She snorts irritably and jerks the rod, but this time she's only caught a boot. Annoyed, she throws it back. "And last night, no less than three people got completely drunk and started screaming at each other as loud as they possibly could. Duke, of course. And Rick, but I expect that from him. But Saibara!" Another fish gleams in the early light. She deftly removes the hook from its lip, baits and casts, all within thirty seconds. "Gray walked in without greeting him and he just lost it. I've never seen him so mad. He was cursing up a storm. Then Duke came butting his nosy self into it and two minutes later they're screaming at each other. I bet they don't even remember what they thought they were fighting about. And then that moron Rick –"

"Hey!" Popuri emerges from the crest of Mother's Hill, looking mildly put out. "That's kind of rude, Ann! Don't call my brother names!"

Ann looks at her, askance, but doesn't stop snapping the line from the water as fish continue to attempt the bait. "Popi, he got into a fight that had absolutely nothing to do with him and starting carrying on about Kai again!"

At this point, I decide that it would be best to take my leave. Kai is such a universal sore spot that the prudent avoid the mention of his name altogether if they can.

I pass through Rose Square on my way home. Mayor Thomas is nailing up a notice, but stops as I pass. "Good morning, Maria. Your father was just asking me if I had seen you."

"Where was he heading?"

"Mother's Hill."

I look in that direction. Perhaps I should go to him; surely he's feeling lonely. But Mama has a point in saying that we mutually gang up on her. If anything, I should go home and at least try to talk with her -

"Can I presume you won't be opening the library today?"

The library…! I'd completely forgotten all about it. Neglecting to even say goodbye, I dash away, even though the library's hardly 200 yards from the center of town. And it's not like anyone will be there, right?

By the time I reach the front step, my momentum is too great to avoid the masculine body on the front step. Jack grins as he sees me coming, looks surprised when I don't stop, and jumps to his feet to catch me as I gracelessly stumble into his outstretched arms. At the sight of my flaming face, he bursts into laughter. "All in favor of pretending this didn't just happen, say 'aye'."

"Aye," I squeak out.

He sets me upright as gently as if I was a china plate, but doesn't leave as I fumble with the lock. Perturbed, I spare him a glance. "You want to read, right?"

"Was considering it."

The tumblers give way, and the bright light of the outdoors illuminates the wispy cloud of dust that rises as the heavy oaken door swings open. I reach over to the right and hit the myriad of switches. Electric lighting, while not as romantic as lamplight, has its advantages. Particularly when one is running quite late.

Jack wanders upstairs, and I go behind the desk to rummage through a growing pile of invoices. Though my father is the author of approximately 86 of the books on the shelves, the townspeople apparently like different reading material, and are willing to pay to have it shipped in. Furthermore, most of Papa's books aren't pertinent to the general populace, as they don't own farms, and everyone in the area already knows about the mines and the festivals. But no one has the heart to tell him this.

I'm nearly a quarter of the way done with checking and double-checking all information on the requisition slips when a pungent, but pleasant odor assails my nose. Jack is nudging a wooden bowl across the desk at me.

It's warm bamboo rice.

I must have a strange expression on my face, because he smiles that heartrending smile he has. "I thought you might want something…for later."

"Thanks," I whisper, face flushed to the roots of my hair. He nods, and a moment later, the door shuts.

The clock tower resonates with the effort in striking twelve. I can hear the chatter of the women on this block, namely Mama and Manna, as they head towards the square. Today the gossip should be fierce: between the rowdy antics in the inn last night and the numerous fights breaking out all over town, they'll have enough to talk about right up until three.

Maybe I should close up early and get dinner ready. It wouldn't hurt, and since Mama's going to want to play dress-up with me anyway, considering what tomorrow is…I suppose I could make tonight go as smoothly as possible and be graceful about it for once.

When I come home, Papa is sitting at the kitchen table, carefully dissecting a Moon Drop. "There you are, sweetie. I stopped by Elli's as soon as I woke up, but she told me that you left early in the morning to come to the inn to look for me!"

"I did. I got distracted."

He smiles.

"Papa, stop it. It was Ann."

"Of course. By the way, don't think I didn't hear about that wonderfully choreographed belly flop you did on Jack this morning."

I laugh, remembering what Jack himself had to say on the matter. "It didn't happen."

"But of course it did. Don't you know that Manna sees everything that goes on around this block? She was broadcasting it before she made it to the square proper. Be prepared, your mother will probably have something to say about it when she gets home."

I pour two containers of stew into the heavy crock pot and turn the flame up to medium. This should heat up nicely in thirty minutes. A crusty loaf of sourdough bread, along with some olive oil and rosemary, will make this an enjoyable meal, in taste if not companionship. Despite his seeming nonchalance, I get the feeling that Papa is nervous.

He finishes his sketches of the stamens and cleans up his mess mere moments before the front door opens. Mama comes in, looking puzzled at the sight of us waiting on her, and dinner nearly ready, but she doesn't comment aloud. Instead, she looks into the pot to make sure the food hasn't scorched, and begins to ladle it out.

The morning dawns, with more than a hint of rain on the horizon. Nonetheless, today is cool and breezy, and I can't help but stare out at the trees as the wind tousles their branches and makes the pale green leaves rattle. Even though this town is tiny and rather boring, there are days when I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.

"Maria, where are you?" Mama calls frantically. "Get in here so I can do your hair!"

Torn away from my observations, I walk into her room, where she has an assortment of styling tools warming above the fire. She eyes me for a moment. "How do you want your hair? Curly pony or curly loose?"

"Loose is good." I sit down in front of her vanity and remove my glasses; I won't be permitted to wear them anyway. She sections my scalp expertly, takes a lock, and begins to curl.

Within fifteen minutes the deed is done. I look like Popuri…hair-wise, that is. I can't quite fill out the dress like she does. Carefully, Mama places a wreath of pastel petals on my head, adjusting it so that it fits closely. She looks at me and nods. "You'll do." It's the best compliment that I can hope for from her.

Papa's waiting on us as I slowly descend the staircase. This dress is a relic, but it's Mama's relic and it would never do to mangle it. I would never hear the end of it if I so much as snagged it on a rose bush. He smiles reassuringly at me. "Sweetheart, you look lovely."

I take his outstretched arm. It is kind of embarrassing to realize that you're nineteen years old and you still have your father escorting you to public events, but right now I couldn't ask for a better date. Papa knows me inside and out, well enough to know that if he doesn't keep significantly to my right, I'll trip, or continually hit him with my elbow until he's quite bruised.

Mama's walking briskly ahead, leaving us to ourselves. I sigh softly and he looks down at me. "Anything wrong?"

"I wish…" What do I wish? The most impetuous thought comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. "I wish that you could have married someone who knew how to appreciate you." The words sound horrid to my ears, and trying to excuse myself, I quickly add, "I wish the same for Mama. It just seems that you two are so badly matched, it hurts me to see it."

"Maria." He stops altogether and disengages himself. "Maria, listen to me. There's a reason that your mother and I are together, even if it doesn't seem even remotely obvious. The Goddess doesn't make mistakes. People don't stay married for seventeen years when they're not meant to be. Someone will move on, or someone else will be wise enough to get out. Yes, your mother and I have problems. We've got to work them out, and we will, somehow. I don't know how that 'somehow' will happen, but it will. I believe that."

I stare at him. He stares back. "Besides, if I hadn't married your mother, I wouldn't have you. And for my purposes, I can't think of much worse than that."

We walk on, each of us pondering in silence.

The other girls are all there by the time I arrive, some of them looking more ill at ease than others. Elli continually tugs at her dress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles from where the dress bunches. It's getting too small, but she's in a mild stage of denial. Ann stands with her legs akimbo, making me think that this is the only time of the year that she actually wears a dress at all. By contrast, Karen and Popuri look right at home dressed up as goddesses.

They all swarm my way as soon as I enter the square, squealing. "Maria! Maria!...You look so pretty with your hair curly!...You're so beautiful in that dress, Maria!"

"It's almost time for the dance," Karen said, breathlessly. "Everyone remember how it goes?"

We nod, gamely and she nods back. "Alright. It's just a pirouette, so don't overdo it and hurt yourselves."

Slowly maneuvering into position, we begin the dance…

…and a few minutes later it's over and we're receiving our individual congratulations from family members and admirers. A few people have come from the surrounding townships to view the festivities; these came armed with Orangecup blossoms. As soon as they're able, they begin to press forward and distribute the spicy-smelling flowers, along with words of adulation and hugs. While receiving my share, I overhear my mother talking to Jack. Why I can pick his voice out of a jumble of noise, I choose not to deal on.

"…and you say Karen's the only one actually trained to dance? You wouldn't know it from watching them."

"Well. I suppose you would know, seeing how you came from a big city and probably saw professionals perform." She's fishing.

"They looked great."

"Yes, they were beautiful, weren't they? Maria looked pretty good, too."

I stiffen, entirely independently of my will, and tears rise unbidden. I hate her. I hate her!

"Maria?" Popuri's touching my shoulder. "Maria, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I answer too quickly as I draw my hand across my eyes. "Dust."

A/N: Okay, hopefully this makes people happy. I spent over nine hours today writing this. I think it makes sense. It may not.

Things to note:

You may have noticed that Basil and Maria are awfully close. There is a very good reason for it. No, it does not involve incest. No, you will not know what it is any sooner than the next two chapters unless the story gets away from me, which it might. In that case, everything I just wrote is null and void.

I am trying, very hard, to incorporate both BTN and HM64 into this story. However, don't be too surprised if something happens that doesn't necessarily happen in either game, such as…a spouse getting booted out of his/her house and being forced to spend the night in the Inn. In case you hadn't noticed, people in Flower Bud seem to fight a lot.

Try not to make assumptions about any characters; this story is very much in its infancy (hence the chapter name 'Egg') and things will change. For better and worse. And like I said, my stories have the habit of traipsing down lanes other the ones that I intend for them to follow. If you have a suggestion, though, feel free to toss it at me. I just might catch it. (Or it might bounce off my skull and knock me out cold. Depends.)

Review. If you like, that is. If you don't like, use your own judgment. ;-)