Chapter Text
“Silky, right?” Stella set her bag down on the kitchen table, pulling her hair back in a low ponytail and clipping the leftover pieces that framed her face back in preparation.
Silky nodded at her from across the kitchen. Her ruffled pink skirts brushed the floor as she walked over to Stella, holding out a gloved hand.
“Lovely to meet you too!” Her glove was cool and soft in Stella’s hand. “Chise said you wanted to learn some new recipes, and I really like baking, so we had an agreement that I’d help out. My family’s on holiday at my grandmother’s for a while, so we’ve got plenty of time. If you don’t mind, of course.” She wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she didn’t uphold the bargain, but surely anything involving something as lighthearted as baking for Chise wouldn’t have too great of consequences. Right?
To her relief, Silky nodded again, smiling.
“Great! Can I see what ingredients you have?”
As Silky showed Stella around the kitchen, she took note of where everything sat; the types of flour and sugar, how many eggs, the kinds of fruit preserved in tidy jars in the topmost shelves in the cupboard. It was impressive, she had to admit. Similar to her grandmother’s house, though with more homegrown ingredients. Where she was used to seeing herbs ground up in jars, full stems of dried ones hung over the counter instead, a swell of rosemary and thyme gracing her nose when she passed them by.
But what to make? From the meals and snacks she’d had at the Ainsworth house, Silky was clearly a talented cook and baker; as proud of her own skills as she was Stella wasn’t going to fool herself into thinking she could come up with something more impressive than what Silky already did. What did that leave, then? What could she possibly have that would be worthwhile for them to make together?
Stella clapped her hands, sending a few of the herbs swaying and tangling with each other. “I have it!” She tapped Silky on the shoulder. “I wasn’t sure where to start since you probably know way more than me, but then I realized I do have a recipe that is special just to my family. So how about we do that? It’s for scones, and it looks like you have all the ingredients.” Her gaze drifted to the jars of preserves, some the deep, cool violet of blueberries and others the cheery yellow of lemons, just to confirm.
Silky rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a large pot from below the counter.
Mimicking her, Stella reached for a smaller bowl she’d spotted in one of the lower cabinets above the counter. She hopped up, only for her fingertips to just miss the handle. Grumbling in frustration, she leapt up again, and was propelled further this time, her feet floating as her fingers wrapped firmly around the handle. When she looked down, gasping in surprise, there was a small wooden stool underneath her. “Was that you?” she asked Silky, though she already knew the answer. “Thanks!” She set the bowl down, far more comfortable in this heightened position.
“Let me tell you the recipe as we get set up,” Stella said. She made a shushing gesture. “It’s super secret, so you can’t tell a soul, ‘kay?”
Silky made a similar gesture back, and nodded, the picture of seriousness.
“So we start with the flour,” Stella began in a low whisper, and started to rattle off the list of ingredients she’d committed to memory, her grandmother’s voice clear in her head as the day she’d taught her. Her recipe was a special thing, she’d told her. It was why everyone always loved her scones, why even Stella’s clumsy first attempts had turned out stunning. While it was something she kept close to her heart, it was also certainly a recipe that Chise would love. And what sort of friend would she be, if she couldn’t share something that big a part of her with someone she cared about?
Silky listened intently as she finished the recipe. As Stella’s voice trailed off, she rummaged around in a drawer, flipping through a large binder. She shook her head, then headed to the cupboard, pushing aside several items and turning them around. Stella tried to peer past her, wondering what she was up to, when Silky brought down a bag of flour from one of the middle shelves.
Stella didn’t quite understand why she’d puttered around for so long before grabbing the first ingredient, but she shrugged, opening the fridge to get the milk.
Silky gestured emphatically at the flour bag, poking at the back.
“What’s up?” Stella headed back over to her, standing on her tiptoes to see what she was so excited about.
“Another scone recipe?” Confused, Stella frowned. “I thought we were doing mine.”
Silky pointed at the recipe again, and Stella scanned it, the list of ingredients falling off her tongue with ease. A cold sense of dread crept into her chest, and she stepped back from the bag, her heart pounding. “Silky…” she said, her voice small and weak, “why is my grandmother’s secret recipe on that flour bag?”
Giving Stella a sympathetic look, Silky reached out for her, patting her shoulder gently as she slumped over the counter.
“I’ve been betrayed...” Stella moaned. “I thought it was something that just the two of us had. But there’s probably a million people who’ve used it.”
Silky shook her head almost imperceptibly. Leaving Stella to languish by the counter, she pulled out her recipe book again, and held it before her.
Stella pushed it away. “I don’t want to do a recipe you already know. I want to do a new one…but I don’t even have that. Besides, I’m sure all your recipes are a lot more special than those that come from a box. You probably made them yourself, didn’t you?”
Silky continued to hold the binder out, pointing out recipes as she flipped through the pages, smiling at Stella until she blinked, realizing what she was being shown.
“These are all box recipes too?”
The trees outside rustled in a brisk summer breeze, the scent of clean air and fresh growth floating through the open window. Stella stood up, a little more invigorated than before. “You’re saying that even you use recipes that were already written?” she asked slowly, and Silky nodded. She reached for the drawer, pulling out a wide square of metal this time.
“You even have a tablet?” Stella said as she unlocked the device, showing her screenshotted recipes, neatly organized into folders, some with descriptions, others with names, like Chise’s or Elias’. “Wow. I had no idea. Honestly, I kind of just assumed you memorized it all.”
Silky looked faint at the thought.
“But even then, if it’s really okay to do something you didn’t make yourself…it’s still not a new recipe,” Stella insisted. She’d been so certain she’d had the solution, only to have it stolen from her in the stupid, chunky type on the back of a bag. Why did everything feel ruined, knowing that the mystery had been taken away? It didn’t mean it was any less tasty, and yet the thought of the pastry now crumbled dry on her tongue as she picked at the recipe, scrutinizing the ingredients as if, in its true colors, she could now find a flaw.
If it was so secret, why had it been shared with her in the first place? Stella shifted, thinking of her grandmother’s sweet voice, the way her hands steadied hers on the roller as they flattened dough together. If the recipe had never been written down, or shared at all, she would have never come across it. And if she’d never learned it, she’d never been able to teach Stella, never forming that memory with her. While telling her it was secret may have made that experience between them feel more special, it was actually…
Silky shrugged and handed her a pencil.
“Pardon?” Stella asked, blinking back the slight sting in her eyes as she calmed down.
Silky began to bustle about the kitchen, gathering the rest of the ingredients, Stella protesting behind her. “But I said it wasn’t worth it…oh!” She glanced down at the pencil, Silky’s suggestion combining with her understanding and tethering her back to her original plan. She knew what they had to do.
~
Stella fell into a calm rhythm with Silky, finding the process of working together just as easy as when she worked with her grandmother. She seemed to sense exactly what Stella was searching for when she spun around the kitchen, trying to remember which drawers held what, and every time she measured out an ingredient Stella swore it became a little more vibrant, a little more magical in her hands. Despite her sour mood, she couldn’t help but feel her spirits lift, her chest lightening with every stir of her spoon.
She took the batch of scones out of the oven, exclaiming in excitement at the lovely scent of blueberry overlaid with the citrusy tang of lemon. “These smell delicious,” she said in spite of herself. She found herself reaching out after setting them down, only for Silky to smack her hand away. “I know, I know,” she said, “I’ll let them rest.”
“Did you just finish baking?” Chise stepped into the kitchen, her growing hair falling over her shoulders in a messy tumble, and all thoughts of eating the scones herself fled Stella’s mind.
“Just about.” She wiped her brow. “We still have to clean up, of course. But once they’re cooled off a bit you can have one!”
“What flavor are they?” Chise asked.
“Blueberry lemon.” Stella hesitated, then winked. “If you want to know the recipe, well, it’s a secret between Silky and me, so tough luck.”
Laughing, Chise waved her hands. “That’s fine with me; I wouldn’t trust myself to make something like that anyways.” After a few moments of chatting, Chise reached for a scone without Silky rushing in to pull her away, and bit into the corner.
“It’s delicious!” she exclaimed softly, her eyes closing, and Stella could almost picture the buttery, crumbly bite that flooded her mouth with the perfect blend of tart warmth. “It does make me want to know what’s in it.”
Stella held the bag with the recipe close to her chest, words in mass-produced print now edged with a few penciled-in additions. “I’ll tell you if you really want,” she admitted, fingers clutching at the edges. “I think I figured out…that recipes that are shared, even if they aren’t new or unique, are more special than those we keep to ourselves. Because then they’re something that we can have fun with together! And by baking them together, we can add something new that makes them ‘special’ again.”
Silky beamed at her from across the kitchen.