Excerpt from working novel, “No Bounds”

“Thank you,” I finally managed to say, unable to pull my gaze away from my reflection.

“No worries,” Beatrix answered. “Let’s head down to the kitchen. I don’t know about you, but I am famished.”

I nodded and turned to follow her back out into the hallway, unsure if I really was hungry myself or how long Ross’s words would linger in my mind. And as we finally made it to the correct set of stair that would lead us to the kitchen, I crossed my fingers that the uncertainty of the two would resolve themselves prior to entering the kitchen. Especially the prior, rounding the bottom of the stairs and quickly passing the large living room, as a strong whiff of something warm, sweet, and cinnamony filled the hallway which became stronger when Beatrix pushed the kitchen door open. The aroma of whatever Agatha was pulling out of the oven was almost as intoxicating as the scent that seemed to exude from Aldric whenever he was near by… almost.

“Good morning,” the doctor greeted the two of us..

“Mornin’ Doc,” Beatrix said.

Though I immediately wanted to ask what Aldric and her were talking about on the phone, I held my tongue and answered with a good morning of my own. I took a seat next to Beatrix. I was decided, with determination and however unhopeful as I still was, to not let Ross’s words ruin the pleasure I was starting to feel in presence of these two women. More particularly, to what laid on the plate Agatha placed in front of me. She said it was called a “cinnamon bun, something I had never had before. My adoptive parents were very strict when it came to sweets. Unless it was someone’s birthday, I was never allowed to have any. It’s not that I had never seen a cinnamon roll before, I just never knew what they were called. They, along with every other candy or pasty, were simply callled “cavity sins.” My adoptive parents weren’t particularly religious nor had I ever heard this term outside of my parents, but it was a term I had thought was common until my peers started to make fun of me for using. Just when I had thought “Albino girl” was the worse nickname I could have been called.

Regardless, I intently observed the two women, Agatha taking a seat directly across from me, to see what the correct way to eat the large pastry. With a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, Agatha divided the roll into smaller bite size pieces. Beatrix, on the other hand seemed to pull the roll apart similar to peeling apart each layer of an onion or unraveling a ball of yarn.