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Sundays weren’t supposed to smell like this.
They were supposed to smell like Caitlyn’s simmering broth and the soft citrus cleaner she insisted the kitchen needed. They were supposed to have Lavender’s little socks abandoned on the couch because their eight-year-old does not know the concept of putting things where they belong, as Caitlyn often declared while still picking them up herself. They were supposed to feel slow, warm, domesticated…
But today smelled like engine oil, burnt rubber, too-strong coffee, and the faint metallic tang of tools that had seen far too many hands in one weekend. The Last Stop Mechanics was buzzing even though the clock was pushing toward evening, that warm hour where the sun slanted through the high garage windows like honey, gilding the dust in the air and bathing the cluttered shop in a sleepy amber glow.
Vi wiped the back of her palm across her forehead, only spreading the grease there even further, and leaned her hip against the hood of a half-dismantled sedan. “I swear,” she said, voice dry and gruff with the way she always got at the end of a long day, “if one more person drives in here saying their engine is ‘making the weird noise again,’ I’m moving to a cabin in the woods and never lookin’ back.”
Claggor snorted from where he was hunched over the open chassis. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes without a car to fix or a Piltie to yell at.”
Mylo, halfway across the garage and elbow-deep in an SUV’s undercarriage, lifted his head with a smirk that looked like it hurt to hold. “She wouldn’t last a week without having their crappy overpriced coffee from the shop she and Caitlyn met. Cabin in the woods my ass.”
“Language,” Ekko called from the workbench, though he wasn’t even pretending to scold seriously. He was sorting screws with a speed that made the others look slow by comparison. “Lavender would rat you out in a heartbeat if she heard you talk like that.”
“Oh, please,” Mylo scoffed, wiping his forehead with an old red rag. “Lavender learned half her vocabulary from Powder. That kid’s been corrupted.”
Powder gasped dramatically from the opposite side of the garage, where she was wrestling a rusted tire off its rim. “I teach her art. Self-expression. Creativity. Big difference.”
Vi chuckled, the sound warm and tired. “Yeah, and last week her teacher had to ask Caitlyn what ‘blow this joint’ meant.”
Powder’s grin stretched sharp and wicked. “And did she tell them it means leaving politely? Like a lady?”
“No,” Vi said with mock-bluntness, “your sister-in-law gave the most terrifyingly formal answer I’ve ever heard, and somehow still made it sound like it was my fault.”
That made everyone laugh. Tools clinked, the garage door rattled as it settled with the cooling air, and the shop felt almost homey despite the chaos.
They moved around each other with practiced ease; family first, coworkers second. Even the arguments had softened over the years, smoothed by shared tragedy and rebuilding and chosen domesticity. This place, inherited the way some families passed down heirloom watches, was Vander’s legacy. And it still thrummed with the familiar pulse of belonging.
The sun dipped another inch, shadows lengthening.
Ekko stretched his back until it cracked. “We should close soon. I think if I look at one more busted alternator, I’ll start speaking fluent engine.”
Powder tossed her wrench into the nearby toolbox with a clatter. “Food sounds real good right about now. Think Caitlyn’s gonna let me steal leftovers again?”
“Steal?” Mylo repeated incredulously. “She literally puts them in your hands like she’s feeding a stray cat.”
“Hey,” Powder protested, “I am a well-behaved stray cat.”
Vi was about to fire back when her phone buzzed in the pocket of her work overalls, vibrating insistently against her thigh. She fished it out, squinting at the caller ID and immediately her rough expression softened into something warm, something only a handful of people in the world ever got to see.
Caitlyn’s name.
A small smile tugged at Vi’s mouth as she thumbed the accept button and put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Cupcake. What’s up?”
Except the voice that answered wasn’t Caitlyn’s.
“Mama!”
Vi’s heart skipped, chest tightening in that painfully sweet way that only Lavender could cause. The engine grease, the exhaustion, the long hours… all of it melted away at the sound of her daughter’s thrilled little squeak.
“Well, hey there, Bug,” Vi said, instantly softer, instantly gone. “What’re you doin’ on your mother’s phone, huh?”
There was a rustle, like the phone rubbing against fabric, and Lavender whispered conspiratorially, “I stole it.”
Vi barked a laugh. Powder looked over, immediately nosy.
“You stole it?” Vi repeated. “What’d we say about stealin’, kiddo?”
“Only steal hearts?” Lavender offered hopefully.
“Oh, we’re in trouble,” Powder murmured.
Vi covered her smile with her hand. “Cute, but no, Bug. Stealing phones is different.” She paused. “But I’ll let it slide because I missed you. What’s goin’ on?”
There was another shuffling sound, then Lavender’s tiny, excited voice: “When’re you comin’ home? Mama made dumplings already and if you don’t come fast they’re gonna get cold and then I’ll cry.”
“You will not,” Vi said through a laugh that cracked warm in her chest. “You love those dumplings too much to let ‘em get cold.”
“But Mama said—”
“Lavender,” Vi interrupted gently, “I’m on my way soon, okay? Tell Mama not to worry about dinner gettin’ cold. I’m comin’ home to you both.”
“Okay!” Lavender chirped, and before Vi could add anything, her daughter shouted, “MAMA! THE PHONE IS FOR YOU!”
Vi heard Caitlyn’s startled, “Oh!” in the background, the sound of a woman who had absolutely not been prepared to have a phone thrust into her hands.
More muffling. More shuffling.
“Vi?”
Just her name. Warm. Familiar. A little amused. A little exasperated. The exact tone that had made Vi fall in love with her every damn day for almost twenty years.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Vi said, voice dropping unconsciously into something fond and domestic, something private even though the whole garage was definitely listening in. “Your banished princess stole your phone again.”
“I noticed,” Caitlyn said with a soft laugh. “I turned my back for one second. One. She’s becoming entirely too good at this.”
“She takes after you,” Vi teased.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Vi leaned against the car, eyes fluttering closed. “You two alright over there? Do you need anything for me to pick up on my way home?”
“We’re perfect,” Caitlyn replied, and Vi could hear the smile in her voice. “And you don’t need to pick up anything from the market, we've got everything. Dinner’s only just getting started, actually. Lavender’s just impatient because she’s excited to show you the birthday clothes she picked out today.”
Vi chuckled, low in her chest. “That so? She’s been talkin’ about her birthday outfits for a month.”
“Well, now she has visual evidence. Brace yourself.”
“I can’t wait,” Vi said, and she meant it. “Tell her I’m headin’ home in a minute.”
“I will.” A soft pause. The kind that existed only between people who knew every inch of each other’s lives. “Drive safe, Vi.”
“Always do, Cupcake.”
“Love you.”
“Love you more.”
The call ended with a soft click.
Vi lowered the phone, still smiling like an idiot.
Immediately, Powder elbowed her from behind, almost knocking her forward. “Sooo,” she sing-songed with a mischievous grin, “is Lavender bein’ fussy again? Lemme guess, she’s mad we stole her Sunday shopping trip with both her moms?”
Vi rolled her eyes fondly. “Nah. She’s too excited about her birthday and her fancy new clothes to care.”
The siblings laughed warm and full.
Vi stretched, cracking her neck. “Alright, guys. I’m clockin’ out. Dad duty calls.”
Mylo saluted with exaggerated seriousness. “You got it, boss.”
Claggor joined in, mock-formal. “Yes, ma’am, boss, sir, your majesty.”
Ekko didn’t look up from wiping his hands but still added, “Have a good night, big boss.”
Powder snapped into a playful bow. “Go forth, mighty leader. Save your dumplings.”
Vi flipped a rag at her.
Then she grabbed her jacket, slung it over her shoulder, and headed toward the exit. The golden evening light pooling around her heavy work boots, the familiar smell of the shop trailing behind her like a second skin.
Home was waiting.
Her girls were waiting.
And Vi couldn’t get there fast enough. She always said she didn’t get tired, that she could work twelve-hour shifts, pull an all-nighter repairing a freight truck, break up a bar fight outside the shop, and still come home ready to fold laundry or scrub glue off Lavender’s art table.
It was a lie.
Or it would’ve been a lie if the moment she stepped into her own house didn’t erase every ache from her bones like they were never there.
The front door clicked shut behind her, and before she could even take off her boots, she heard the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of tiny feet on hardwood floors.
“MAMA!”
Lavender shot down the hallway like a lavender-colored missile. Purple hair bouncing wildly, socks sliding, face lit with a joy so bright it nearly knocked the air from Vi’s lungs. Vi barely had time to crouch before her daughter collided into her with full enthusiasm.
“Hey, Bug,” Vi murmured, wrapping her arms around her daughter’s warm little body, holding her tight, her chin resting briefly on Lavender’s crown. God, she smelled like dumplings and lavenders and by the looks of it, the faint glitter that she experimented with yesterday seemed permanently attached to her no matter how often Caitlyn scrubbed her hair.
And then, softer than the sound of wind over grass, Caitlyn’s voice drifted from the kitchen.
“Lav, sweetheart, don’t knock your mother over, she just got home.”
Vi looked up and there she was. Caitlyn stood framed in the warm kitchen light, apron tied at her waist, her hair pinned back in soft, effortless waves that had likely taken her two seconds because she was infuriatingly perfect at everything beautiful and everything lethal. The table behind her was already set, bowls of steaming dumplings, small ceramic dipping dishes, chopsticks lined neatly.
Caitlyn giggled, a melodic, airy sound that curled around Vi’s heart like a hand clasping warm fingers, and Vi felt herself fall in love for the thousandth, millionth, never-ending time.
That same giggle danced out of Lavender, a perfect mimicry passed down through blood and upbringing, and Vi thought, not for the first time, I am so screwed in the best way possible.
Lavender grabbed Vi’s calloused hand, tugging terribly hard for a girl her size. “Come on! Mama, come on, we gotta eat now, dinner’s gonna get cold!”
Caitlyn followed with light steps, trying to hide her amusement behind her hand. “You heard her,” she teased softly toward Vi, eyes warm with affection and mischief. “General Lavender has spoken.”
“I’m under strict orders,” Vi deadpanned, letting herself be dragged halfway across the living room. “Can’t go against the chain of command.”
“You can’t!” Lavender insisted proudly.
And somehow, Vi’s exhaustion evaporated into the warm, spice-heavy air of their kitchen as her daughter hauled her toward her seat.
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ
They sat with Lavender bouncing in her chair, Caitlyn sliding gracefully into hers, Vi sinking into hers with a soft grunt of end-of-day relief. The table was cozy, smelling like sesame, ginger, and the delicate sweetness of Caitlyn’s Sunday dumplings, the ones she’d spent years perfecting after realizing there must be something left of her grandmother to Lavender. What was better than a mother-daughter tradition to inherit?
Lavender grabbed her chopsticks like she was preparing for a battle and immediately jabbed one dumpling, bringing it triumphantly toward her mouth.
“Lav—” Caitlyn began.
“Bug, wait—” Vi tried. But it was too late. She shoved the entire dumpling into her mouth without even blowing on it.
There was a single, frozen moment where Lavender’s eyes widened, her cheeks ballooned, and she made a tiny hff! sound. Then she whimpered, muffled and panicked. Vi reacted faster than she ever reacted to a wrench falling, a flame bursting, or Mylo yelling that something was “definitely not supposed to smoke like that.” She cupped her hand under Lavender’s chin, leaning close.
“Spit it out, spit it out, bug, it’s okay—”
Lavender spat the scorching dumpling into Vi’s palm, face scrunched in pain and embarrassment.
At the same time, Caitlyn flew from her chair with a speed that would’ve terrified any criminal who’d ever underestimated her. She grabbed a glass of cool water and thrust it into Lavender’s hands.
“Here, darling, small sips. There you go, baby, gentle sips,” she soothed, brushing her daughter’s purple locks away from her damp forehead, checking her tongue with a furrowed, protective brow. “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t blow on it at all, did you?”
Lavender’s eyes shone with unshed tears. Her tongue was bright red. Her tiny shoulders hunched.
“I-I didn’t wanna w-wait…” she sniffled.
Vi kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, bug. We got you. Happens to the best of us.” She scooped the slightly mangled dumpling off her palm with a napkin. “See? No biggie.”
Caitlyn was already blowing gently on a fresh dumpling, cooling it with soft puffs of breath before placing it into Vi’s waiting hand.
“There,” Caitlyn murmured. “Safe and sound.”
Vi leaned over, presenting it carefully to Lavender. “Open up, munchkin.” Lavender obeyed, sniffling but trusting, and nibbled the cooled dumpling like a wounded woodland creature.
Vi rubbed slow circles on her back. “Bug… what’s the rush for anyway?” she asked gently.
Lavender swallowed, cheeks still rosy. “Mama wouldn’t let me wear my birthday outfit to dinner,” she mumbled, lower lip puffing out. “She said it might get stains and then I’d be SAD, and she’s right, I would be sad, ‘cause my dress is PERFECT, but I wanna show you RIGHT NOW, Mama.”
Caitlyn softened immediately, her hand drifting to Lavender’s cheek. “We didn’t want your dress getting soy sauce or chili oil on it,” she reminded lovingly. “It’s brand new. And you looked so happy picking it out.”
“I was happy,” Lavender declared.
Vi nodded solemnly. “Very valid. I’d be happy too.”
Lavender perked just slightly.
“And,” Caitlyn continued with a smile so gentle and steady it could’ve warmed stone, “your Mama and I are both here now. We’re not going anywhere tonight. We have the whole evening to ourselves, which means…”
Lavender’s damp eyes widened, waiting.
“…we can watch as many of your fashion shows, catwalks, and dramatic twirls as your heart desires.”
Lavender let out a delighted, starstruck gasp before looking between her moms, searching for any hint of trick, any sign this was too good to be true.
Vi leaned in, bumping Lavender’s forehead with her own. “You heard your mum, Bug. Tonight’s all yours. And trust me, I cannot wait to see this legendary birthday outfit.”
Lavender’s grin burst onto her face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Okay! Okay! Then I don’t hafta rush anymore!”
“Good,” Vi laughed, finally picking up her own chopsticks. “Because I didn’t spend all day fixing cars just to have my dinner inhaled in thirty seconds.”
Caitlyn giggled softly at that, the same heavenly, heart-squeezing sound that had greeted Vi in the doorway, and Vi shot her a look that silently said God, I love you.
Caitlyn sent one back that said I know. I love you too.
Dinner resumed, calmer this time with Lavender taking careful little bites as Vi continued to hand-feed her cooled dumplings, and Caitlyn kept blowing on each one with patient dedication.
Lavender excitedly recounting her trip to the boutique, how she’d made three different employees tell her she twirled “like a very grown up fairy.” Caitlyn described her afternoon wrangling Lavender and attempting to prevent her from knocking the display mannequins over. Vi sharing her day at the shop, mimicking Mylo’s dramatics, recounting how Powder nearly threw a wrench at a stubborn wheel stud, and how Ekko said he’d rather eat nails than fix a ninth car.
Lavender giggled at all of it, chin propped on her palm, eyes shining at her Mama’s stories, cheeks round with every grin.
The warmth of their little kitchen wrapped around them like a blanket. Their dumplings steam rising, soft clinks of chopsticks and bowls, quiet laughter filling every corner.
Everything Vi had ever wanted without knowing she did.