|
Primrose gave the dough a particularly hard push, flattening it into the counter. Cela had come very near to the truth. She was caught now. If she tried to lie, Cela, knowing her well for these past several years, would surely know that she wasn't being truthful. But she would have to speak carefully. Though cornered, there was no need for her to embarrass herself any more than necessary.
Primrose rubbed her hands on her apron. "Opposite problem?" Careful, careful. "Yes and no. I don't know." Stay focused. Calm down. She balled up the bits of dough still clinging to her fingers. It flaked. A bit too much flour in the batter, perhaps. "I'd never thought any such thing, not in all the years I've been here, and Will working right outside. But this morning...This morning when he teased about finding a wife...I don't know!" Primrose stared pleadingly at Cela. "It upset me a bit, though not in an unpleasant way, if you take my meaning, and just now, I found myself thinking…I found myself thinking that it would be nice to be someone to write home about." There. It was done.
She looked at the ground. Not hearing a reply, and not daring to look at Cela's face again, Primrose went on in a low voice, "But if Will wants to go along with your plan, I'll play too. Nothing better to cure my silliness than some playacting, I think."
|