on a cot between shelves of restaurant-sized mayonnaise jars filled with herbs and teas and spices. Her feet were warmed by the small kiln, where they fired the earthenware teapots and cups glazed with images of Isis and Bast.
What would they do if the customers stayed away?
Pippa slipped off the stool and checked the cookies. They were cool enough to transfer into a wide glass bowl. She brushed the crumbs from the cookie sheets and dropped small balls of raw dough in even lines. She imagined Tian sitting in the hush of a public library studying old religions and utopias. What kinds of mistakes did other people make?
But their community hadn’t worked for everyone, either. Soon after Pippa joined, Meg and Enoch left with their three kids. No one would tell her what all their arguments with Tian were about, but they didn’t find the family so perfect.
Francie brought a whiff of burnt tar into the room. “Mario said the sign was already vandalized when he opened at seven,” she said. “I doubt if any customers will come today, but we should stay open, just to show them we’re not intimidated.”
Pippa wondered if Francie was really as brave as her words. Maybe a brick through the window would be next.
“When the cookies are done, why don’t you work on the sign,” Francie said. “I’ll get started on the next batch of teapots. If business stays slow, we may have to sell our pots and tea through other stores.”
Francie scooped two large handfuls of clay from the barrel next to the potter’s wheel and slapped them onto the kneading board. Pippa watched her body move into the rhythm of working the clay. Lubricating the particles, Francie had explained, so the clay will dance. After a few minutes, Francie seemed satisfied and placed a handful on the throwing head. Positioning herself on the plastic seat, she kicked the concrete wheel hard five or six times until it spun and hummed. She dipped her hands in the water bucket, pulled the spinning gray clump into a tall column, then squashed it down.
Pippa washed the empty bowl at the sink, still smarting from Liz’s comment. Her probation officer said that the judge had an insane soft spot for motherhood, and her pregnancy was the only reason Pippa wasn’t in jail too. She turned to Francie, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.
“Liz was really mean to me just now, about only working afternoons. That’s not fair. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d be in jail. Then you would really be short-staffed.”
Francie lifted her hands from the wheel, displaying the glistening clay gloves extending past her delicate wrists. “Fix my hair, Pippa? It’s in my eyes.”
Pippa chose a pink scrunchy from the teacup on the window sill and gathered Francie’s hair. Touching the silky curls made her throat thicken. Pippa’s first month in the family, when she and Francie spent so much time together, Francie would let Pippa brush and braid her hair, like the sister she always wanted. She fastened the scrunchy around the ponytail, and turned back to the oven.
“It’s more than the part-time work.” While she spoke, Francie focused on the gray shape that was growing curved walls. “People are upset that ever since you joined, you’ve gotten special treatment. Like having Tian mostly to yourself.”
Pippa took the last batch of cookies from the oven, holding the hot tray with a dishtowel. What did Francie mean by mostly?
“It’s been tough on everyone.” Francie flared the spinning walls out and then drew them in to form the neck. “With Tian and Murphy in jail and Marshall doing the home schooling and Adele still upset about the miscarriage, and me working nights, and you with short hours.” She paused for a breath before continuing. “Plus we’re all nervous about the hearing coming up. And then you bring that nurse home to spy on us.”
That wasn’t fair, blaming her for the nurse. “I didn’t ask for her to come. I’m the one who has to put up with her
What would they do if the customers stayed away?
Pippa slipped off the stool and checked the cookies. They were cool enough to transfer into a wide glass bowl. She brushed the crumbs from the cookie sheets and dropped small balls of raw dough in even lines. She imagined Tian sitting in the hush of a public library studying old religions and utopias. What kinds of mistakes did other people make?
But their community hadn’t worked for everyone, either. Soon after Pippa joined, Meg and Enoch left with their three kids. No one would tell her what all their arguments with Tian were about, but they didn’t find the family so perfect.
Francie brought a whiff of burnt tar into the room. “Mario said the sign was already vandalized when he opened at seven,” she said. “I doubt if any customers will come today, but we should stay open, just to show them we’re not intimidated.”
Pippa wondered if Francie was really as brave as her words. Maybe a brick through the window would be next.
“When the cookies are done, why don’t you work on the sign,” Francie said. “I’ll get started on the next batch of teapots. If business stays slow, we may have to sell our pots and tea through other stores.”
Francie scooped two large handfuls of clay from the barrel next to the potter’s wheel and slapped them onto the kneading board. Pippa watched her body move into the rhythm of working the clay. Lubricating the particles, Francie had explained, so the clay will dance. After a few minutes, Francie seemed satisfied and placed a handful on the throwing head. Positioning herself on the plastic seat, she kicked the concrete wheel hard five or six times until it spun and hummed. She dipped her hands in the water bucket, pulled the spinning gray clump into a tall column, then squashed it down.
Pippa washed the empty bowl at the sink, still smarting from Liz’s comment. Her probation officer said that the judge had an insane soft spot for motherhood, and her pregnancy was the only reason Pippa wasn’t in jail too. She turned to Francie, trying to keep the whine out of her voice.
“Liz was really mean to me just now, about only working afternoons. That’s not fair. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d be in jail. Then you would really be short-staffed.”
Francie lifted her hands from the wheel, displaying the glistening clay gloves extending past her delicate wrists. “Fix my hair, Pippa? It’s in my eyes.”
Pippa chose a pink scrunchy from the teacup on the window sill and gathered Francie’s hair. Touching the silky curls made her throat thicken. Pippa’s first month in the family, when she and Francie spent so much time together, Francie would let Pippa brush and braid her hair, like the sister she always wanted. She fastened the scrunchy around the ponytail, and turned back to the oven.
“It’s more than the part-time work.” While she spoke, Francie focused on the gray shape that was growing curved walls. “People are upset that ever since you joined, you’ve gotten special treatment. Like having Tian mostly to yourself.”
Pippa took the last batch of cookies from the oven, holding the hot tray with a dishtowel. What did Francie mean by mostly?
“It’s been tough on everyone.” Francie flared the spinning walls out and then drew them in to form the neck. “With Tian and Murphy in jail and Marshall doing the home schooling and Adele still upset about the miscarriage, and me working nights, and you with short hours.” She paused for a breath before continuing. “Plus we’re all nervous about the hearing coming up. And then you bring that nurse home to spy on us.”
That wasn’t fair, blaming her for the nurse. “I didn’t ask for her to come. I’m the one who has to put up with her
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