Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air by Melissa Scott & Jo Graham

Author:Melissa Scott & Jo Graham [Scott, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Magical Realism
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2015-02-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Mitch opened the front door, lifting his head as a delicious smell hit him —frying onions, he thought, and oil, and something else he didn’t quite recognize that still made his stomach rumble. Dinner was well underway, from the noise that emanated from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help smiling.

“That smells good," Lewis.

"Oh yes," Alma said. She had never been a cook, not in all the years Mitch had known her, and she’d been happy to turn that job over to Stasi and Mrs. Fong. "I'm going to run up and change before dinner."

"Great."

Mitch headed into the kitchen, Lewis trailing behind him. The record player at full volume competed with Dora and Merilee making a racket. Both of them sat on the floor, their hair liberally dusted with flour, banging cheerfully on overturned pots, Dora with a wooden spoon and Merilee without. Douglas was standing on a chair with a paper airplane, and Stasi was frying something on the stove, the table covered in flour and scraps of dough.

Dora let out a shriek when she saw Lewis. "Daddy!"

"Hello, sweetheart." Lewis reached down and scooped her up, flour, spoon and all. "How was your day?'

"She's nearly beaten the pot to death," Stasi said. "I think she'll make a fine drummer. One of those enormous kettledrums… Douglas and I took them shopping. Miraculously we all survived."

"We got ice cream," Douglas said from the chair where he perched like a small, round humpty dumpty preparing to fall. "And we went in a shop where they burn insects!"

"Incense, darling," Stasi said, scooping out a little round packet of fried dough and plopping it with others on a dishcloth.

"And they had all kinds of gods and funny shoes and she bought me handcuffs so I put them on Dora."

Lewis looked perplexed. "Handcuffs?”

Mitch opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Chinese handcuffs," Stasi said, and he could swear she was smirking. "Those little paper things you put on your fingers. For children. All perfectly wholesome, darling. Besides, it's never too soon to let children start handcuffing each other."

"Only Dora didn't like them so I took them off," Douglas said, jumping down and pulling on Mitch's shirt reassuringly. "I wouldn't leave them on a little kid like that. We were just playing pirates."

"Ok," Mitch said. "Were you a pirate?"

"I was the pirate," Douglas said. "So I handcuffed them but I let them go again. Cause Momma said I had to. I mean," he stopped short. "Mrs. Sorley said I had to."

"You should always unhandcuff the girls when they want to be let go," Mitch said solemnly, unable to resist a quick glance at Stasi. She tried to look stern, but her eyes were laughing.

Dora stretched out her arms. "Pirate!" she yelled. "Pirate pirate pirate!"

"More like a parrot," Lewis said, lifting her up on his shoulders. "Are you a pirate or a parrot?"

"Pirate!"

Mitch took a look at the frying pan again. "Are those dumplings?"

Stasi seemed enormously pleased with herself. "They're Chinese dumplings. We're having them for dinner. I thought instead of making something usual we'd try something different.

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