Page 71 of As You Wake, Break the Shell

Cover the pot and let the dumplings cook for about fifteen minutes. They should be firm, not gooey.

Serve as soon as it’s cool enough to eat.

1 Fuck vat-grown. Solace Golds all the way.

2 This always turns out to be more like ten or twelve for me.

Chapter 29 Signy, Fortune

If you could put your hand—”

“Here?”

“Mm, maybe a little more—”

“Like this?”

“Yes, right there.” Signy aligned the screwdriver bit, then pulled the trigger as Cora held the shelf level. The sound of the tool in motion set her teeth on edge, but building things was enjoyable, and the din would end soon enough. Plus, the task was easy, with Cora’s help. It was also . . . nice. Odd as this was as a morning-after activity, it was nice, doing this together. Signy hadn’t expected that.

The screw sank into the wall, holding as steady as its counterpart on the other end of the brackets. Cora let go, took a couple of steps back to assess, and put her hands on her hips. “Looks good!” she said. Her smile was satisfied, but Signy nearly missed it. She was too busy looking at Cora’s arms, bared on either side of her tank top. God, it had been lovely to tangle up in those arms, then pin them down easy, then flip the script, then flip it again, and again, an endless mirrored free fall that lasted until the only thing either could manage was sleep.

Cora caught Signy staring. Her smile shifted from one sort of pride to another. “Would you, ah . . . like to take a break?”

Oh, Signy thought with a smirk. Oh, Cora wore that confidence well. Signy bit her lower lip, but stayed sensible. “We have five more,” she said, nodding at the loose boards still leaning against the wall. She picked up one end, Cora grabbed the other, and they set it just as they had the two before.

“How long have you had this place?” Cora asked as she held the board steady.

“Seven years,” Signy said, plucking another screw out of the box.

“And, um . . .” Cora tossed her an inquiring glance. “Was it always the plan to have two businesses?”

Signy flexed her eyebrows. It was a fair question. “No, actually,” she said. “At the start, it was just that I didn’t want to have a boss. I, ah . . . I don’t do well with a boss.”

Cora grinned. “I can see that,” she said, diplomatically.

“I like plants, and I like having my own space,” Signy said. “Opening a shop seemed like an obvious solution. I also wanted a safe place to tinker with my own work, but that part wasn’t for anybody but me, at first.” She snugged up the bit socket on the screwdriver. It was old, and often came loose. “I—” She considered her words. This wasn’t something she explained often, or really at all. “I discovered my first customer by accident, and I realized I could do more than just tinker with blueprints for the fun of it.”

“Who was it?” Cora asked.

Signy shook her head, but congenially so. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”

Cora did not seem offended. “That’s totally fair,” she said. She thought for a second. She had a habit of pursing her lips when she was turning something over, Signy had noticed. It was cute. “So what were you tinkering with,” Cora asked, “if not meds?”

Now it was Signy’s turn to think. It didn’t particularly matter whether she divulged this information, because she wasn’t working on that project any longer. But that work was anchored deep in her heart, and she’d likewise buried it there. “Just something I was curious about,” she finally said. “But, ultimately, it was too risky.”

“Riskier than what you’re doing now?”

“Not as such, but if I got caught doing one, I would get caught doing both, you see. I decided one risk was enough, and I chose the more important of the two.” She drove the screw into the wall before Cora could inquire further, then frowned at the driver as she finished. “I think I need to get a new bit. This one’s starting to strip.”

Cora nodded, pursing her lips. “Anywhere close by I could run out and pick one up?”

Signy kissed her on the cheek. “No, it’ll be fine for now,” she said. Her eyes narrowed as she heard a faint chime—a sound that did not belong in the normal background noise of the shop. “Is that your phone?”

“Oh, whoops—” Cora hustled across the shop floor to the cubbies by the airlock, where she’d hung her barrier jacket. She pulled her phone out of one of the pockets, looked at the screen, and sighed.

“Everything okay?” Signy asked.

“Yeah,” Cora said, shaking her head as she began to reply by thumb. “It’s just Twig—my sister.”