May Brookback glanced up at the clock on her kitchen wall. It was quarter to two already and no sign of her husband or the two squirrels he was supposed to pick up from the airport. She wondered if perhaps the flight was delayed, or there had been some hold up. Wally had his mobile with him, and it wasn't like him not to call. Knowing there was no point in worrying she checked the soup simmering on the stove. She had planned to serve lunch at twelve thirty, but when they hadn't appeared by then, she was forced to turn it down to a light simmer. Lifting her ladle from the spoon rest she stirred a smaller pot calling out to the living room.
"They're still not back yet Dad, would you like your lunch now?"
May's father Churk Streamer had moved in with the Brookback family after suffering a minor heart-attack three seasons ago. He sat in his old worn armchair with the paper, half dozing and half reading. At the sound of his daughter's voice he shook springing to live. Folding the paper he set it on the side table and plodded towards the kitchen. The smell of hotroot soup was enough to draw out any otter.
"I haven't the time t'be waiting for that mate o'yours. By the time he steers hisself this way I'll be long gone." He chuckled, slowly sitting down at his seat at the tables head. The table was already set for five. Fresh baked rolls were laid out, along with May's ceramic salt and pepper shakers shaped like watershirmp. The shakers had been a gift from the past mother's day. May ladled out a bowl of soup from the smaller pot, bringing it over to her father. Turning rapidly on her paws, she fetched the butter from the refrigerator.
Churk stirred the soup in his bowl, bobbing the watershrimp up and down with his spoon far more like an otter kit, than a beast of his seasons. He sighed then set his spoon down again glancing towards his daughter. "I can't eat this. Tis no flavor to it wit' out the 'otroot pepper."
May chided her father, filling his glass with ice water. "Now dad, the doctor says with your gallbladder acting up as it is, you shouldn't have any hotroot pepper. I made a special soup for you, following his specifications."
"Humph, doctor doesn't know the medicinal qualities of the 'otroot." He scoffed reaching a paw towards the salt shaker. "Least 'e could do is allow me some flavour." His paw was abruptly slapped by his daughter.
"Dad, no salt! Not with the way your blood pressure has been this week. Now eat your soup and no complaints."
Churk didn't have any further opportunity to complain, for that very moment Wally, Dan and Beth walked through the door.
"Hello darlin' wife love of me life. Look at these scruffy wayfarers I found on me afternoon drive t'day. Do y'think ye can manage to give 'em some vittles t'warm t cockles o'there hearts?" Wally headed straight for the pot of hotroot soup. Lifting the lid, he licked his lips hungrily.
"You're late Wally." May tried to sound disapproving, but her frown soon faded into a smile. "You could 'ave called."
Beth soon found herself squashed in May's tight embrace. "How are you little miss? How was the flight? Now, sit yourself down and I'll get you some lunch."
Blinking several times the squirrel youth slid into the chair across from Churk. Her father sat down beside her passing her a gentle smile. May soon served up steaming bowls of soup for all of them. Wally sat beside his father-in-law clapping her elder otter heartily on the shoulder.
"How's it going me ole skipper?" he winked broadly at Churk dipping some of the fresh rolls into his soup.
"Well enough laddo, without the likes o'ye shouting at me." He nodded gruffly towards Dan. "An' you flew all this way to work, with this saucy pelt."
Dan grinned eating hulking spoonfuls of the spicy soup. "Aye sir, I'd fly twice as far for a taste of your daughter's cooking."
May flushed at the compliment. "Oh stop it."
Wally took his wife's paw and began singing comically.
"Oh my darling, my heart would droop.
If ye won't make me another pot o' soup.
Me eyes grow dim and my fur gets pale,
if me wife won't fetch me some October Ale
…er wait left the October Ale out in the car."
Letting go of his wife's paw he hurried out to collect the forgotten six pack.
May shook her head sighing heavily. "Now what's the matter missy, not likeing lunch?"
Beth was taking several painful gulps of her water, her eyes watering from the hotroot peppers. "No it's okay." She choked. Her coughs caused much amusement for May and her father.
"Oh deary me, don't eat it if you can't handle it sweet heart." May warned.
Her father chuckled into his own soup nearly choking himself.
Without warning Wally waltzed into the kitchen again holding aloft the ale. He opened one passing it to Dan, and then opened himself one. All the while still singing off key.
"An' when I'm dead and laying in me hole,
mark me grave wit' me spoon and bowl.
Tell every young lad who passes by,
they can sit an sup and remember I…
Remember I when I was young and strong…"
"Wally enough already." May stopped his unending song, and then placed a paw over his ale. "I thought you said you were going to take Dan to pick up his car after lunch."
"But... but" Wally protested holding up his opened bottle.
"No drinking, not one drop Wallyum!"
Setting his bottle down he made a face and went back to his soup.
After downing three glasses of water, Beth was finally able to eat her bowl of hot root soup. She had to admit; while spicy it had been the experience her father had promised. Now with belly full her eyelids felt heavy. She yawned heavily finding it hard to keep her eyes open.
May reached over and gently patted her shoulder. "You look fair worn out young'un. How about you have a little lie down in me nice warm bed? Your dad and my Wally can sort out getting your things to the cottage. By the time you get up our young 'uns will be back from school. Our Nance is about your age. Come on I'll show you where it is."
Smiling softly the young squirrel followed the kindly otter wife. The house was as neat as a pin, and there was the faint smell of heather that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The master bedroom wasn't near as large as her own parents' room, but it seemed sufficient. A large sea chest sat at the end of a queen-sized bed. The headboard was carved from an oak as was the modest dresser to the side of the bed. The bedspread was a foggy blue colour, which matched the large painting hanging over the bed. Set in an ornate frame the picture depicted an older male otter with a pipe dangling from the side of his mouth and a cap slanted at a jaunty angle over his head. He was rowing a boat with a small otter girl helping clutch the massive oar. The painting was so lifelike it seemed they might row off the canvas and into the room.
Shutting the curtains May nodded towards the bed. "Go an' have a little snooze. Don't fret I'll wake you before tea time."
Tea time for Beth conjured images of large hats and crumpets. But, she was far too sleepy to giggle at such notions.