It's upon our return to Twelve that I decide to rebuild the bakery.
Yeah, I've mulled the idea over again and again… and again. And yeah, each time I've backed away from said idea for various reasons.
However, bringing the treats over to Four and seeing the expressions of joy that grace everyone's faces when they dig in made me realize just how much I enjoy doing this. I also realized that I'd be doing my family a bigger favor by starting anew instead of trying to retain the site as some sort of shrine.
Plus, Katniss and I decided that it's time we got our own place; a place that will be located on top of the bakery like before. In the end, even with the two of us living together, the house provided to us feels too spacious in all the wrong ways; not to mention that, while all of the surveillance bugs were supposedly removed upon my return — let's just say seeing the pile of thumbnail-sized video and audio devices was quite disconcerting — there's a feeling of oppressiveness about the place. More importantly, I find it important that we live our lives in a place created with our input.
When I suggest my plan at the planning meeting, I can't help but feel a bit flustered when everyone present heaves a sigh as if this was long overdue — I swear that Thom even mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a "Finally…" — and a couple of the surveyors immediately bring several prints showing plots of the land where the bakery used to be.
It's just as well that I have my own concepts. Even though the bakery and home are being rebuilt, it doesn't mean that it's going to be anything like the old one; with a foundation of granite and walls of brick — similar to most of the other buildings around the square — as well as a ground-floor dimension of a little over thirty by sixty feet, it will be much larger and sturdier than before. The first floor would be dedicated to the bakery, with an additional ten feet out front for the porch, and a planned basement includes a storage cellar and shelter. This gives the second and third floor room for our living space; large enough to include the desired amenities with enough room to be flexible, yet small enough to feel cozy. And above everything is the rooftop garden so the both of us can grow herbs and vegetables or simply relax. And just for the sake of having a little touch to the building, I add an oriel window on the corner of where my studio/study/safe room.
Fortunately, my concept is not only well-received but found to be completely feasible with only a few minor tweaks. Granted, when Katniss sees that my plan includes four extra bedrooms, her suspicious scowl seems to cut through my rationale about having space in the event that we'd be having eight guests or something like that.
We also don't let Haymitch off the hook. It's clear that he doesn't use his entire mansion either, and someone has to look after him. So, after some pressuring, my old mentor relents and allows me to design a small bungalow behind the bakery; I even give some space for him to have his geese.
And so with the last tweaks made and materials obtained — a couple of them being from several distant sources — we finally begin rebuilding not just a bakery but a part of my life.
~oOo~
"You ready for this?"
Katniss quirks an eyebrow at my query as she straightens my suit jacket. "I'm not the one speaking."
"But I know how you are about cameras. You don't have to—"
Her hand on my lips silences the rest of my vocal concerns, and her scowl keeps any other concern from being raised. "Peeta Mellark, if I didn't want to be there with you, I'd be in the forest. So shut up and make your speech."
Despite the little tirade, I can't resist allowing for a small grin. "Yes, dear."
That just causes Katniss' scowl to grow, and she's not exactly gentle when she maneuvers me towards the front. Granted, her maneuvering is deliberately within acceptable boundaries as I'm still a bit feeble from my recent operation; took a bit of convincing to get me onto an operating table, but the status of the new heart is a good sign. Just as good of a sign is the status of Haymitch's new liver, and while he has no wish to join me outside, my old mentor still claps my shoulder and raises his glass — there's booze in there, but the alcohol content is progressively weaker — in a toast.
Cool crisp air heralds early spring when I step onto the porch. That breeze is laden with the sweet scent of pink peach blossoms that grace the square and contrast with the sturdy buildings of brick and stone — it occurs to me that I'm one of the last spots to open here — as well as the warm glint of sunlight reflecting off the crown of the administrative center. Accompanying the melodious trills of early songbirds is the lively and animated drone of chatter emanating from the crowd that fills the square itself.
As I approach the podium, the chatter dies down as everyone focuses their attention and goes still. For a moment, I take the time to evaluate all before me: the district citizens making up the bulk of the crowd, guests of honor seated either at the front or behind me on the porch, the girl of my dreams standing beside me, and the news crews— while media in general are allowed for this event, Cressida and Pollux are still the only ones whom I allow on the porch itself — that are ready to broadcast this nationwide.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for attending. And don't worry: I won't keep everyone from the food for long." An appreciative chuckle arises from the audience and breaks the spell. "But first I'd like to say a few words."
I start out with the usual generic welcome, introduction, and acknowledgement of those responsible for helping convert my concept into reality. Special care is made to thank the Europan, Phoenician, and Parthian delegates for their donation of high-quality equipment; my appreciation is supplemented with the assurance that I have some bibers, challah, and naan created just for the occasion, as well as the hope that I didn't screw up the recipes, which earns more chuckles. Then I get into the main part of the speech:
"To think that almost exactly two years ago, I stepped off a train to be greeted by utter devastation. I stepped into what was left of my district to meet people unsure about what the future will bring." To her credit, President Paylor looks contrite at my words when I spare a glance in her direction. "And I stepped into my neighborhood with the fear that I may never be whole again.
"However, something amazing happened. From the ashes of an action representing some of the worst that humanity can offer, came a series of actions representing the best.
"Actions representing leadership…" As I look towards Thom, the mayor waves at the camera as Bristel claps him on the back.
"Actions representing responsibility…" Marcus flushes a bit when the camera turns to him and the rest of the guests from Two.
"Actions representing generosity…" — The camera moves to the Bannons, who sit along with the various individuals who donated resources to the reconstruction of this district. — "ingenuity…" — Members of the planning council raise their glasses to me. — "and a willingness to take risks to make things work." This time, I gesture to the several thousand people representing the population of Twelve; the probable irony is not only that most of them originate from other districts, but that the largest fraction is from Two.
Finally I extend my hand to Katniss and pull her in close to me. "And most importantly, actions representing love." Okay, that last line's cheesy even when recited in my head, but it doesn't change anything and the audience doesn't seem to mind. "It's these actions and contributions that turned the wasteland of the old District Twelve into this new District Twelve that you're currently standing in. It's these actions that allowed this building behind me to come into fruition. And it's my hope that these actions will drive the growth of this nation into a better tomorrow."
"So without further ado…"
I motion for Thom and Paylor to join me at the foot of the steps where a ribbon is affixed taut between the banisters. With both their hands on my shoulder, I take out a razor and sever the connection with a flick of the wrist.
And as the two halves fall in a flutter and cheer rises from the crowd, I find myself actually looking forward to what the future may bring.