The morning sun painted a golden glaze over the rooftops of Greydock town, its light piercing gently through kitchen windows and warming the flour-dusted countertops of the Grantham household.
Inside, the cozy scent of vanilla and nutmeg filled the air.
Marianne and Maeryn moved easily around one another, busy with their baking. A small, celebratory cake rose inside the oven—a tradition they kept every year for the day Elowen's younger brother's letter arrived from the coastal boys' academy. The postman usually came by noon, and they liked the house to smell like comfort when he did.
"Add a pinch more cinnamon," Marianne instructed, peeking into the oven.
Maeryn obeyed, humming softly.
"Elowen promised to stop by this morning, didn't she?" Maeryn asked.
"Mmhmm. Said she'd come early and help with the icing."
A knock echoed on the front door.
"Is that her already?" Maeryn smiled, wiping her hands. "Let me go check it out."
