Page 32 of Wateredge

“Der, if you have something to say, you should, you know, just spit it out, if you want me to brew you tea. Otherwise, I don’t know why you’re here.”

“I do want the tea. I also want to hear how you are. With the Cupcake opening, I didn’t have much time to check up on you.” Deryn let the kitten play with her fingers, sending Seren a sideways glance.

“There’s nothing to check up on,” Seren said, tucking her chin, busying herself at the counter.

“Oh, I have a list, actually.” Deryn made a production of pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “Let’s see… The Brew?”

“Is doing fine,” Seren replied, rolling her eyes, playing along.

“The fire brigade?”

“Is expanding, actually, so I might have to get more help at the Brew to take time off to train more recruits. Paloma is increasing the budget, so we’re getting more equipment and a few more salary units. You can tell Mayor Allende she is awesome.”

“Hey, stay in your lane, Rennie,” Deryn grinned.

“I am. I like her, though. She’s been a breath of fresh air for the town. Get your mind out of the gutter, Der.”

“Okay, okay, what else…” Deryn skimmed over the remarkably full list. As she was about to open her mouth, a floorboard creaked above them. Deryn lifted her head toward the second floor. “So, ahem, I take it she’s still around?”

Seren shrugged.

“She’s been restless lately. I thought maybe with Rhy and you back on the island, she’d find it all a bit too much, but lately I don’t think that’s it.”

Deryn straightened and stood up, placing the kitten gently on the floor.

“Gwen Crowhart, the sad ghost of Crow House. Damn, Rennie, it’s been ages, I’d forgotten all about her.” Seren opened the fridge and got out the milk jar as her sister continued. “I guess it’s harder to forget about her while living here.”

“I can’t say that I think all that much about her,” Seren said. “Except these past months. It’s like her melancholy multiplied, you know? I can’t explain it.”

“Have you asked Ceri? Or Victoria, for that matter?” Deryn reached for an apple from the fruit bowl, then set it down, reconsidering. Above them, a door closed with a quiet click.

“Asked if they know why the unobtrusive, sad ghost of the house we all grew up in is suddenly more active? No, I haven’t. Both of them have important things going on, and it’s not like Gwen is bothering me exactly. She’s just there.”

Deryn set her jaw, clearly intent on asking more questions and probably pushing the issue, then her expression changed.

“Okay, she has indeed never bothered anyone, except I remember us feeling bad for her when we were kids.”

Seren placed the apple Deryn had taken back in the bowl, fixing the presentation out of habit of cleaning up after her twin. “I still feel bad for her. I have no idea what she did to keep lingering. To be this sad. To exude all this guilt I keep feeling every time I sense her. But as I said, she’s never bothered any of us, and so I don’t bother her.”

They shared a silent moment, filled with the mystery of the old ghost who silently roamed the family house, a specter of long-forgotten tragedy. A tragedy that bemused Seren, who had searched the town archives, but other than sparse information about a woman who was a Navy Cross recipient she had not found out much. The medal was still tucked into the frame of an old photo depicting a drawn, tragic face. This image, as well as that of the entire unit of the Sacred Twenty, the pioneer Navy nurses, hung on the wall of the living room alongside generations of other doomed Crowharts.

Deryn exhaled loudly, then slapped Seren on the shoulder, immediately defusing the moment by being her most annoying.

“Anyway, ghosts and family tragedies aside, and we can drop those for a bit, since they will catch up with us anyway soon enough, I’m here to help you with the desserts. Remember that one time you asked me for help? You—big, bad Seren Crowhart—asked your gorgeous and famous sister—me—for help with baking. Remember?”

Seren rolled her eyes again. If Deryn kept this up, her eyes would be stuck there permanently.

“Yes, I remember. The panna cotta. It doesn’t require baking. I thought you’d just make me a few batches, I’d sell them at the coffee shop, and we’d split the money.”

Deryn whistled.

“Why, those are big plans, Ms. Board Member of the Chamber of Commerce. Big plans of me doing all the work and you doing none of it. However, how did that thing go… give the man a fish?”

Seren stuck her hands in her pockets.

“So you’re not gonna make the flan?”

“Panna cotta is not flan, you philistine. And no, I will teach you how to make it, so you can make gazillions of them yourself and then hold your head high on that fancy-ass board of yours.”