Elena felt herself being shaken urgently out of a dead sleep. With a gasp she started awake and saw her mother bending over her.
"Mama," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep, "what's wrong?"
"Madame Blanchard is having her twins. Her husband came and told me that she's in labor. I have to go and help, but I'm going to need you to run the inn while I'm gone." Her mother's voice was serious.
"Run the inn?" cried Elena, suddenly wide awake.
Her mother smiled reassuringly.
"Ma petite, you are more than capable. As you know, Aunt Louisa isn't in town or I would ask her to come help you. Besides, it will only be for a few days."
Elena gave a wan smile.
"I try, Mama."
Mme. Dassin kissed her daughter's forehead.
"Make sure to get up early and set the bread rising. That way it will be ready for baking by the time we open," she said and left the room hurriedly. Elena breathed a prayer that Mme. Blanchard would have a safe delivery and then lay awake in the darkness for a while longer, running over what she would have to do when she got up.
There were a thousand and one other things besides cooking when it came to running the inn. Her mother was one of those people who everybody knows, loves, and is at a loss without. The way she could juggle food on the stove, laundry, serving, garden work, and generally running the house and inn all at the same time, was bewildering. Now that all of the above had fallen on Elena's shoulders, she found her mother more remarkable than ever.
She threw herself into the task with a trepidation that was tinged with excitement. She had never had the household completely to herself before.
-xxxx-
The day began rather tryingly. When she came down into the kitchen at four, still tying on her apron, she noticed that Jean had either forgotten to fill the morning water barrel, or had neglected to do so. Her lips pursed up into a thin line as she took a bucket and carried it to the well. She would need around four buckets to start, she reasoned a little sourly. While it wasn't miles, the distance to and from the well was still far enough to make the thought of carrying four heavy buckets undesirable when you had just woken up and it was four o'clock in the morning.
The sky was beginning to lighten in the east. The morning air was chilly and damp and the dew lay heavily on the grass. The net effect was that after a few steps, Elena's stockings and the bottom of her skirt grew damp and cold. The wet skirt was particularly uncomfortable since it stuck to her legs.
It was with considerably less excitement and with a considerably more prominent sinking feeling that Elena set down the water bucket and moved to the bread table.
Even the bread sponges hadn't risen as well as they usually did. She scowled and set to work.
-xxxx-
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Gleb called.
He looked up with a smile that quickly morphed into a puzzled frown. To Gleb's surprise, a girl of about twelve entered carrying his breakfast tray. Elena was nowhere in sight.
"Bonjour, monsieur," said the girl.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he replied, still puzzled. He hesitated. She looked a little like Elena, perhaps they were related?
The girl seemed to notice his expression.
"My name is Marianne. Here's your breakfast," she said brightly.
She spoke Russian well, but with a slight French accent.
"Pleased to meet you, Mademoiselle Marianne," he replied, "and thank you for the breakfast."
Despite her friendly demeanor, he eyed the teacup with something like suspicion before tasting it. Marianne saw his expression and laughed.
"Oh, don't worry, I didn't brew it. Elena did that. She said she knows how you like it."
Gleb looked up at the mention of Elena's name. He had been trying to think of a way to bring her up.
"Is she alright?"
Marianne looked confused.
"Alright?" she repeated.
Gleb spread his hands slightly.
"Yes. She's not sick?"
Marianne shook her head.
"Oh non, monsieur. Elena is quite well. She has to take care of the inn today because Madame Blanchard is having her babies and Mama is helping. She asked me to bring you your tray since she was too busy."
Gleb smiled and nodded with relief.
"Ah, I see," he said.
"You know," Marianne continued in a conversational tone, "this is Elena's first time running the inn alone. Aunt Louisa always would come and help if Mama was needed somewhere, but she got married a few days before you arrived and is visiting family who couldn't make it to the wedding."
"I see," he repeated.
Marianne stood awkwardly for a few moments, unsure what to do next.
"Is there anything else you would be needing, monsieur?" she said at last.
Gleb looked up and shook his head with a smile. He couldn't reply because he had just taken a large bite of his pastry, effectively reducing it by half.
"I'll be back for your dishes in half an hour or so," she said with a friendly grin and left him to his breakfast.
As soon as she left, Gelb allowed a frown to cross his face. If Elena was too busy to bring up his tray, it was unlikely that she would come up for idle chatter. If she didn't come up, then he couldn't ask her to send the letter. He toyed for a moment with the thought of giving it to Marianne and then asking her to give it to Elena, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. He might have more or less decided to trust Elena with the letter, but he didn't know if he could trust her sister. If he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't even sure that he would be able to give the letter to her at all.
-xxxx-
Down in the kitchen, Elena closed the oven. She hung the bread peel on its hook, wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and sighed. It was barely ten in the morning and already the kitchen was boiling hot. The heat radiating off the huge stove and the bread ovens was oppressive to begin with and the weather was not complying.
"It looks like we're in for a warm day," Jean called as he came into the kitchen with a load of firewood.
Elena frowned irritably.
"You can say that again," she replied, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her back, "it's well over a hundred in here already and it's not even noon."
Without warning, Marianne suddenly bounced into the kitchen.
"Gleb asked about you," she smirked before they could react. "He seemed very concerned."
Elena felt her face grow hot. Why must she always blush so easily? It only served to make her look guilty, especially when there was absolutely no reason for her to be blushing at all. She knew that Marianne was only trying to get a rise out of her and she tried to shrug it off.
"Well that was nice of him," she said, turning to stir the soup. It didn't need to be stirred, but it allowed her to turn her back on her siblings. She hoped they hadn't seen her flush. Unfortunately for her, they did. Marianne wiggled her eyebrows at Jean, causing him to grow red with suppressed laughter, and continued.
"He was happy you brewed his tea. He looked like he didn't want to drink it until I told him that it was your work."
"I can't exactly blame him," Elena replied carefully, "knowing how you brew tea."
Marianne shrugged and grinned unabashedly.
"I don't suppose it would matter if I made the loveliest tea in the world. Men always like to have things their sweethearts make them, from what I understand."
Elena spun around furiously to face Marianne.
"I'll have you know that I am not his sweetheart," she said hotly.
Marianne only raised her eyebrows and Elena felt as though she was blushing to the crown of her head. She heard a smothered snort and looked up to see Jean's guiltily innocent expression. Suddenly she felt a strong urge to spank them both.
"Out with you!" she cried.
Brandishing her wooden spoon, she lunged at Jean, sending him scurrying out of the door and into the yard.
"Back to the woodpile! I need more firewood than that little twig-bundle you brought in," she called after him.
He raised his hand in acknowledgement and began jogging in the direction of the woodshed.
"As for you, Petite Mademoiselle Impudence," said Elena, tuning to where Marianne still stood grinning, "there are costumers waiting to be served. Now get too it."
Marianne stuck her tongue out at her sister, but did as she was told.
Elena turned back to the stove. She flushed again as she thought of what Marianne had said. I simply helped him out, she thought to herself. She remembered how he had reacted when she had tried to ask him why he was unhappy and her lips thinned. No, he definitely doesn't think of me that way. Maybe he doesn't even see me as a friend, she thought a little sadly.
-xxxx-
Upstairs, Gleb sighed. He had been wondering if Elena might like to play cards. Not that she could now that she was running the inn. Still, he had a deck in his bag. If she managed to come up… Gleb shook his head stubbornly at his own weakness. He had enjoyed her company, but he couldn't put out roots like this. As soon as that blasted foot of his was strong enough for him to hobble about, he would be off.
Hello everyone! Sorry this is late. School has started now so I'm switching my posting day to Saturday instead of Friday. I'll try to keep updates as regular as I can. :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter!