Chapter Text
“This place used to be a butcher shop,” Pearl said, gazing wonderingly at the shelves stacked with fresh-baked breads, pies, and a plethora of other baked goods. She breathed in. It smelled wonderful, not like the sweet smell of meat which made her insides curdle. This was a marked improvement from what the building once had been. The bakery was packed full but organized, giving Pearl that odd satisfaction that Amethyst didn’t understand.
“Sure was,” Jasper replied, watching Pearl walk around the bakery. She was wearing puffy gold short pants with white tights and flat shoes ornamented with gold leaves. Her hat was large, wide-brimmed and covered with spanish moss and pink tulip flowers. The way she walked, the way she was dressed, her voice and mannerisms drew attention towards her. Jasper couldn’t help but stare.
“Did you buy the building from the Armstrongs?” It had been seventy years since Pearl had set foot in here, but her memory was crisp, photographic, a talent that predated her time as a witch.
Jasper shook her head. “It’s still in the family, Miss. Just changed businesses.”
“How strange,” Pearl commented. Finishing her strides around the bakery, she stopped in front of the pie display case. “Did a relative marry into the Clementine family? Your pie recipe is nearly the same-- with a few flaws.”
“That, I did buy.” Jasper leaned forward, raising a brow over the pie case at the bit of critique, as if Pearl was seeing something she couldn’t. “What’s wrong with the pies?”
“Well,” Pearl started, “your crust is overworked. Tough. That’s all that is the matter, really. Other than that, it’s nearly perfect. I can show you how to make it properly.”
“Sure, just let me close up shop tonight.”
X
Pearl contented herself by finishing her shopping. Amethyst ran off when Pearl announced she was going back to the bakery. Without disclosing her destination, Pearl knew where she was running off to. “No gambling,” Pearl warned, although she knew Amethyst wouldn’t listen. She hoped her familiar wouldn’t get into too much trouble.
The bakery was empty with a closed sign hanging off the window. The door however was unlocked and Pearl let herself in.
“I’m upstairs!” Jasper called down and Pearl followed her voice, meeting her in an attic room with a little kitchenette.
Earl grey tea was steeping in a tea pot and there were biscuits on the table. Jasper did not at first glance appear to be someone who held such social conventions. Pearl was pleasantly surprised and helped herself to a biscuit while Jasper poured her a cup of tea the size of a bowl.
Pearl noticed that many things were twice their average size in this room: the plates were as big as tables, the forks more the size of pitchforks, and the glasses like telescopes. Even the bed looked excessively large, a king-sized spread to Pearl, but to Jasper it would be so small her feet would hang off the edge.
“We’re doing it here?” Pearl asked. The attic was spacious to her, but she noticed that Jasper walked hunched over to avoid the ceiling, and the floorboards creaked under her heavy steps. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do this in your bakery kitchen?”
“I thought we could talk in private,” Jasper said, sitting in a chair. Pearl was long-legged and did not struggle to perch in the chair facing the other woman.
“What for?”
Jasper offered her sugar for her tea. Pearl politely declined and took a sip.
“I know a veteran when I see one. I was surprised, the way you’re dressed-- took awhile for me to see it.”
Pearl’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under the brim of her hat. “How can you tell?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Your eyes,” Jasper simply replied.
Pearl was speechless. Jasper continued. “They’re the same eyes I see every morning when I wash my face in the wash basin.”
Pearl found herself staring, searching for whatever it was Jasper saw in her eyes. Jasper’s eyes were sharp and hazel with crows feet that teased the corners. Her jaw was set, face hard and tired. Pearl was beginning to see it now, maybe not in the eyes, but other places. Since she could remember, her own smile was always tight and feigned, some worry in the back of her mind keeping her from fully enjoying the moment.
“I see,” Pearl said, and then, after a few sips of tea, “I served in both wars.”
“Impossible,” Jasper said. “The one before the last one was--”
“Two hundred and three years ago, yes.” Pearl smirked, amused by the surprise on the other woman’s face. “I served the first war as a woman, the more recent one as a witch.”
“You... you look good.”
Pearl held back a snort, chuckling into the back of her hand and watching the flush rise in Jasper’s cheeks. “Thank you!” she said, and set the cup down as she finished her tea.
Jasper turned away, speechless and still red.
“Well, if you have nothing else to say, let’s go downstairs and bake.” Pearl slid out of the oversized chair and tucked it back in place. She stood, waiting for Jasper to make a move, and after a startled pause Jasper stood and led her downstairs into the bakery.
X
There was little evidence that the building was once a butcher shop. Not a single knife hung on a rack, not a drop of blood or rust red stain remained: just the butcher’s block shoved to the back of the room, with sacks of flour piled on top of it. The ovens and baking equipment were fairly new. Some Jasper said she had won at an auction, and others were gifted to her by the Clementine family.
“Why a bakery?” Pearl asked, wrist deep in a mixture of lard and flour. Jasper added a pinch of salt, a pinch of sugar, before answering, eyes lowered:
“Got tired of touching dead things.”
Pearl nodded, understanding. She would never forget making careful steps across the battlefield afterwards.
“Now we add the milk.” She changed the topic and Jasper was ready with a full measuring cup.
They never mentioned the war after that and Pearl was careful not to bring up family or the history of the building, Jasper had flinched at the Armstrong name. Perhaps the business transition was not something the family had agreed with. Pearl wondered how long ago Jasper restarted the business as a bakery, and how long ago her parents had passed. So many questions, yet she kept quiet, hands behind her back, leaning over the table as Jasper rolled out pie crusts.
As always, Pearl lost track of time, Jasper too. The sun dipped low, inviting the evening before they knew it. When the kitchen darkened, Pearl whistled to light the candles and Jasper watched. Her eyes lit up too, like a child's, full of wonder.
Not long after, the pies finished baking. Pearl had taken a sliver of each one and nodded, satisfied. “You’re a fast learner,”she remarked with surprise.
“Did you expect anything less?”
Pearl had blushed at that, feeling ashamed, caught in her assumption. She stopped herself from making a defensive explanation and instead dusted her clothes, releasing a plume of flour before washing her hands.
“It’s nice,” Jasper said later, leading her out. “To be around someone who understands.”
Pearl gave her a quizzical look before understanding set into place. They had not talked about war, so she had nearly forgotten.
“It is,” she replied simply. It was one of the many reasons why she missed Rose’s presence. There was Lapis, but she had grown up during the war, fighting for her own life, not for her country. And there were the remaining human soldiers, receiving medals like her own, but Pearl had walls and standards and after coming into her powers felt she was above them.
Jasper was strangely different, not expectant, not talkative. She had let Pearl do all the talking as she kneaded and rolled pie dough. Occasionally mid-sentence Pearl had paused to critique her technique and Jasper did not fight her on it, making the proper adjustments. She was humble, Pearl realized, and proud too, but not enough to cloud judgement or barr an openness to change and opinion.
“I’ll come again-- if you want me.” Pearl could read the invitation in Jasper’s eyes.”I have several recipes to pass on.”
“I would like that.” Jasper smiled and shook her hand.
As Pearl walked on, the twilight in her eyes and Amethyst advancing towards her, Pearl whispered, “Me too.”