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Shortly before their supply of summer flowers runs out, Alexa wakes feeling like her feet have been replaced by blocks of ice. Across the room, Liana is curled into a ball under her own quilt. The window between their beds that stays open most of the warmer months is so obviously the culprit for Alexa’s freezing feet and Liana’s shivering, but the mild discomfort doesn’t stop her from breathing in deep, the cool morning air filling her lungs and awakening her spirit.
Soon enough, winter will arrive. Despite herself, Alexa is still excited.
After breakfast, the pair of them make their way down the winding path to their booth along the road, gathering the few coins left in the place of flower bundles and rearranging what is left so that the booth looks as full and appealing as possible. Alexa fills the few empty slots with three jars of honey and half a dozen candles leftover from the winter prior before teasing Liana into a race back to the gardens.
They’re laughing and a little out of breath and playfully bickering about who had actually won when they return, ready to survey the near-empty flower boxes and decide what to take down and store in the cellar until spring comes again. Liana agrees that they should disassemble the whole trellis—neither of them willing to risk it against any upcoming blizzards.
“We should pay a final visit to the orchard too,” Liana says after they’ve dragged what they can down the cellar steps. “See if there are any late apples, make sure we’ve gathered the last of the honey.”
“Tell the bees to have a good rest,” Alexa offers, smiling at the tinkling bell-noise of Liana’s fond laughter.
“Tell the bees to have a good rest,” Liana repeats, soft, and when Alexa looks over at her, she’s smiling back.
It is dusk when they begin the return from the orchard, baskets full of nearly too-ripe apples and a heavy wooden pail swinging between them with the last of the honey and wax they’d been able to collect from their bees. From the vantage point of the hill, Alexa can see the forest and roiling fields below, erupting into oranges and yellows and reds so vibrant that they almost look as if on fire. The grounds are a special kind of magical when they’re illuminated by the setting sun.
Alexa is the one to start singing, but Liana is scarcely two notes behind.
In the cottage, Liana gets the fire going in the hearth, pulling three lumpy potatoes from the pot and cubing them, gathering a few sprigs of rosemary and thyme from the bundles hanging near the kitchen window.
While Liana prepares supper, Alexa moves around the cottage, gathering their collection of thicker quilts and hides they’d stored away in cupboards and trunks during the hot months, spreading most of them on Liana’s bed. She realizes she’s humming as she smoothes the final quilt down on her own bed, and then realizes that Liana is as well.
During supper, Liana describes beautiful dresses and Alexa describes fancy silken slippers and they giggle over their big, wild dreams, sitting close together and never once even dreaming of getting bored of the other.
Alexa cleans the dishes and then dashes out to the pump to gather enough water to carry them through the night and the following morning, the frigid air of the night much less pleasant without the beam of the sun to soften the blow.
Even so, when Liana, curled up in bed less than six feet away, asks if they can keep the window open just a little longer, Alexa is wont to say anything but yes.
Early the next morning, well before the sun has even thought about rising, Alexa is woken to Liana clamoring into her bed, quilt draped across her shoulders like a cloak. Alexa gumbles a little, fond and far too sleepy, startles when Liana pushes her cold nose against the back of Alexa’s neck, and drifts off for a few more hours.
They awaken later in the morning, the fire in the hearth down to embers and the sun high enough in the sky that it doesn’t feel quite so cold, especially huddled together under two quilts. Alexa finds Liana’s hand amongst the sheets, tangles their fingers together and squeezes, relishing in the few moments of allowed peace before it is time to get up and start the day.
Separating the honey and the wax takes some time, and finding enough jars to store all of their liquid gold, as Liana giggles, takes even more time, but it is barely lunch when they’re able to see exactly how much wax they have.
“Of course we will need enough for us,” Liana says thoughtfully, separating the pile into smaller groups. “But this is still a fair yield.”
“We should head to the market soon,” Alexa decides. “We can get a bit more gold for the honey there—”
“—and we should really gather enough flour that we don’t have to travel into town once it snows.” Liana finishes, their thoughts synchronizing as well as their music.
“Let’s have at the apples,” Alexa says, after they’ve eaten a luxurious amount of honey on their toast. “We will have to decide which need to be stewed for canning.”
Soon enough, their little cottage smells devine, the sweetness of stewing apples permeating the air. As they work, Alexa and Liana indulge in two smaller crabapples each, the pleasant tartness making their faces twist, each of them giggling at the other.
In the evening, they dance around in front of the hearth, hair frizzy from leaning over steaming pots all day and humming their own tunes, bellies so full from a day of snacking that they both agree to skip dinner.
Liana grasps Alexa’s hands, spinning her ‘round and ‘round until she’s so dizzy she can’t keep up the tune any longer. They start giggling, breathless and warm, and it is a very good day.
Before long, they have made all of the candles they can, and they head to the market, gathering the last of their wares from the stand on the side of the road on their way into town. The trip is very successful, many of the townspeople asking for their secrets, insisting that all other flowers are long-dried out.
“Thank you, Madam,” Alexa says, smiling her best smile, Liana’s bell laugh tinkling from the other side of the road as she wheedles the miller into a very low price, tucking one of their violets behind his ear and inquiring after his daughters and being her charming self.
Alexa trades two jars of honey for a hefty book full of magical tales, and a dozen apples, four tall candles, and three gold pieces for a cut of thick linen, tucking it all into her basket before Liana can see.
It is late in the evening when they return home, the moon high in the sky and their feet aching in their slippers.
They are so tired that they don’t do much more to unpack than leave their baskets on the table before changing into their nightgowns and stumbling into bed.
Just a few days later, the pair of them awaken to discover the world covered in a thick blanket of snow. Liana wants to have a snowball fight, and Alexa wants to make snowpeople, and they spend the day doing no work at all, instead running around, soaking the lower hems of their skirts and chasing one another up and down their gardens until they were breathless and pink-cheeked.
Eventually, they decide they’re too cold to continue, and Liana unwraps a small package she’d been very secretive about, revealing a good-sized slab of chocolate, grinning wide and so, so radiant, and after they melt some down with some milk, they curl up together on the plush settee, where it’s Alexa’s turn to reveal her secret purchase.
Liana is thrilled with her choice of book, and they spend the first of many winter nights with the thick tome, savoring their rare treat of hot chocolate and taking turns reading aloud.