(1943-09-12) The Lights Are On
The Lights Are On
Summary: Quinn has returned to Higsi and reopened her shop, following family tribulations. Lillie, on her way to errands, stops in to reacquaint herself.
Date: 1943-09-12
Related: A few hours before this log.
Players:
lucietta..quinn..

Touch of Paris, Higsi
Wed Sep 12, 1943


Taste of Paris, Main and Butler. The two story building has been freshly painted a soft eggshell white, the new awning is striped in that eggshell, wine, and candy pink, edged in gold and hangs over several small wrought iron cafe tables. The door is new, painted that deep wine color, with the open/closed sign hanging in the window. The main storefront window has been painted with the name "Taste of Paris" in gilt, with fleur de lis angled in each corner.

Inside, the walls are so pale a blush as to be almost cream, reaching to the midpoint of the wall to the ceiling. The lower half of the wall is gleaming oak that meets the floor of more of the same wood. There are more cafe tables with their chairs, cushions striped in wine and white, and a wide glass display counter that separates the dining area from the rear of the bakery. There are wide ovens, and signs of industry in the back area almost always, except come close to closing time. If one is allowed behind the counter, it is easy enough to find the stairs to the second floor, which has been fitted as living quarters.

Weather:
It is summer. The weather is warm and overcast.

===

The bakery has been quiet and still, no smells of bread or baking for weeks and weeks. There had been no explanation other than the closed sign, with a handwritten note attached inside the big window, claiming illness in the family. Quinn had been gone, and the place had been empty. But now? The door is propped open, and the air along the street is sweet with the smell of yeast and baking. The big window is gleamingly clean, sparkling in the late morning sunlight.

Quinn herself is within, wrapped in an apron over the blue blouse with the sleeves rolled back, sunstreaked blonde hair caught at the nape of her neck in a wide black ribbon. She's thinner than when she left, a few crucial pounds leaving her close to too thin. She's singing along with music from a record player, a heartbreaking song about a man going off to war and leaving the singer alone and wasting away.

Many surely speculated on where the proprietor of the bakery ended up going… it was like a dream, this bakeshop opening up in a town which has been mostly passed over by the war crunch save for rationing. For someone to show up here and work such magic in a climate rife with restraint…? Only to disappear for weeks upon weeks? Terrible! So needless to say, true to Higsi form, the biddies in town speculated on where Miss Quinn went. Even with the sign in the window stating loss. You can only imagine what they came up with over card games.

But then the owner returned and resurrected the business … and Higsi didn't quite know what to think! One such curious customer, who hadn't subscribed to the gossip, pads uncertainly into the bakery to give the place a look 'round. The last time Lillie came here? It was with a rather ill Leona Styne.

"Hello?" Chimes a pleasant voice, rife with the green hills of Ireland. To follow her voice is to see a wisp of a young woman, fiery brownish-auburn hair tucked beneath a bandana and body outfitted in a patching sage green and cream-colored gingham dress. Singing and fine smells have attracted Lillie O'Clery.

Quinn has no doubt many tongues that don't know her beyond her name, have been spinning tales upon tales. She has no intent on giving them any more fuel for the fire, shoulders will be back, and her chin up. The truth was, her great aunt had gotten very ill and wanted to get home to family, in Philly. Quinn had snuck back into Europe to get the old woman out, and it had been.. harder than Quinn had hoped. But no one in town needs to know any of that part.

Dark whiskey hued eyes look up, a smile deepening the color, a hint of a dimple. "Well Miss Lillie. It is good to see you, and you looking so well."

<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Great Success.

Very-green eyes flit up from the chair that she has found herself examining, of all things. Lillie pulls her hand back gently from the striped cushion and affixes that gaze upon Quinn. "Hallo Miss Quinn," Lillie never forgets a name, even if her interactions with the one bearing said name have been brief and a long time ago. Her gaze flits downwards briefly and back up to note the blonde's appearance.. not judgingly but… she (Quinn) looks worn down. No no not in an unattractive way but just.. she's not had an easy go. Lillie is so often on the other end of the 'you need to gain more weight' tact so she sure as hell isn't going to judge Quinn on looking a bit on the thin side either.

But she will still worry.

With a swishing of her cotton skirts, Lillie strides into the bakery, "Thank you for that.. y—" She's about to remark carefully on Quinn herself looking nice albeit worn, but her sense surmises things for her. To move closer to the baker is to get nailed with the brunt of what is percolating beyond the gregarious nature. Lillie flinches slightly, quickly rubs her temple. She makes it look like a headache.. that's it… but something within Quinn is just.. it hurts. The Empath looks up again, eyes soft. "I am sorry for what took you away from us. Is your family alright?"

"My great aunt, she was very sick, and wanted to get home to the rest of the family, and I.. brought her home. Helped take care of her. She's not an easy woman." There's a hint of a smile, surely Lillie would understand older women can be curmudgeonly. Everything the baker has said is true, though when she's saying she brought the old woman home, there's a surge of fear as memories and nightmares flash through the blonde's thoughts. On the surface, there's the pleasant expression, and her hands keep working on some dough behind the counter.

On the other side of the counter, where patrons typically assemble to look upon and long for the amazing goods, Lillie's eyes are settled solely upon the tired young woman working the dough. There's something decidedly oldsoul'ish about the way the Irish woman is watching Quinn work.. and perhaps in the set of her lips and the tiniest tilting of her head, there's sadness there for her. "I understand well. It is not easy to care for those who are getting on.. not due to the task itself but the matter of pride, and desiring to do for themselves. I've a charge who isn't realizing quite how much she needs aide. So I understand." Said as she folds her hands politely in front of her hips.

Silence then as her sense whispers to her like the tiniest of birds; butterfly wings fluttering. All it takes is a heartbeat for Lillie to surmise the depth of Quinn's struggle. "Forgiveness my forward question, so your great aunt yet lives?" A jolt and apologetic look, "I mean not to pry. I just.. I feel badly. I wish there were something I could do to help."

Quinn had looked down at the dough, visually checking to see the consistency she can feel with her hands. It's more a habit than need. Then her eyes lift again, looking at Lillie with a gaze far sharper than the sweet smiling baker facade has ever shown the Irishwoman before. "Oh, she's fine. Ensconced with my parents, being spoiled and cosseted." That blade sharp gaze is blinked away with a flutter of a smile, quick and light as a butterfly. "She'll probably outlive me."

Hmmm…

Lillie lowers her hands from having had them clenched in front of her body — did she even realize she was clenching them? She is all about what is witnessed in body language and how one speaks with their eyes and it takes all of her resolve to not guard herself or flinch again beneath such a gaze. Curious still as the smile is switched on to dissipate it, and Lillie notes this. She gives a slow onceover to the shop as-a-whole, wondering if she should make an honest maiden of herself and buy some wares. "I am sorry for the trouble you have weathered. For what it is worth I am glad to see that you are back amidst us." She means it too, though she cannot get that sharp gaze out of her mind's eye.

Maybe talk of the great aunt is a sore subject… not one that she, an acquaintance, should be poking at. Instead the softspoken Empath leans toward the counter somewhat, wanting to see Quinn at work. "Whatever sort of bread is it that you are making?" An attempt at lighter talk, but sadly her sense won't permit her forgetting entirely. "I am a true inept in this art. I hope that I am not taking you from your work."

"Well, I am hoping it's all behind me. I'm glad to be back among you all. I missed my little shop, my daily work, all the little things. I like the quieter nature of town here, versus Philadelphia's busy hustle." She smiles, and the woman with the sharp gaze that danger resides within is gone. "My family still doesn't understand my choice."

She glances down at the bread she's making, hands leaving off working the dough for a moment. "This one is going to be dill. Just a little bit in it. It's great for sandwiches." She shrugs. "I've been terrified you all had forgotten me, or someone else had opened a shop."

And she can feel the danger abating too, that's the thing. There was a set of emotions behind that sharp, formidable look. Lillie is not an idiot… she will not tread where she mustn't. All she DOES know is that the 'bustle' of Philly may very well not be the sole source of Quinn's unrest. "It is what kept me here too, you see. We are similar in that sense. The girls I arrived with went on further West to secure work and strong marriages." The Irish woman pauses, tucks one hank of hair back into her bandana. "I received the odd letter at first, and I suspect my replies of town life here proved too boring for them, too difficult to make sense of.. and it stopped. I then knew that I was a local when I did not care." A slow little smile and glint in her eyes. "Higsi has a draw, I feel." Remarked finally.

The shy smile widens into a mirthful one, "It sounds wonderful. You've a sense of adventure with your work, so whomever thought they could swoop in to take this over will have not been able to contend." She says firmly. "The closest you've to competition is old Mrs. Higgins and I sure as the green grass upon this earth do not believe her to be keen on adding dill to her own bread." Lillie still has a bit of a chip on her shoulder re: Bernice. It shows.

"The only breadstuff I can boast is Irish soda bread." Admitted ruefully.

There is a lot hidden behind the sweet facade, to be sure, though most will never sense it. "More the fools they, then? Of course, I can't imagine your courage and sense of adventure, coming here from Ireland without family or anything." That smile, the flash of admiration is honest, even as the baker moves to get pans. "Mrs. Higgins will never be my biggest fan, I am sure. Though I've seen her sniffing a couple times as she's walked past, before I was gone." There's a glimmer of mischief.

"A well done soda bread is a delicious thing. I've had it a few times." Quinn moves, greasing baking pans as she speaks. "I'd be willing to trade you some croissants for soda bread."

The Empath goes on observing and listening, and would almost feel badly to be loitering and gawking… surely, if Quinn were to begin nursing a degree of annoyance toward her, Lillie will pick up on it and take her leave. But so far so good. The lovely, tired baker's words cause her smile to quiver at the edges briefly. "Ah," She looks down at her pretty flats, "I left Ireland when I was a little girl, I'm afraid… but I keep in close contact with loved ones there. To the.. best of my abilities. How I wish there were faster ways to send, and receive correspondence…. to simply write a letter and with the flick of a lever or switch, see it off immediately." Oh Lillie, give it a few decades.

A romantic sigh and the Empath expands a bit without turning the conversation too much toward herself, "My parents live in Boston, and it was from there that I travelled to come here." Said simply as her green eyes watch Quinn move to collect pans. Talk of Bernice not quite liking Quinn either loosens a chime of laughter from the Empath's throat, only for her to bite back on it in astonishment.

"T-truly..? I favor soda bread not only because I'm, well… Irish… but I find soda to be a far more forgiving companion to work with than yeast. It is the only baked good that I would deem worthy to trade for… croissants." Her eyes widen then; there's definite want in there. "Give me the weekend to get the free time needed to make the very best loaf that I can, and you've a deal miss." She actually looks thrilled. When in good cheer, the Irish brogue intensifies.

"Still, up and leaving your parents couldn't have been easy." Nevermind that Quinn herself had done it, and more than once. "Letters are indeed slow, I agree. Telegrams are just too expensive unless it's truly emergent." Quinn's not in the slightest annoyed as she starts portioning dough, almost as if there's a hum inside her. Then she's laughing, a glance at Lillie. "I've gotten so used to yeast that I'd probably just make a mess with soda anymore. But my mentors were fussy Parisians." There's a quick, lightning bright smile. "I'll make sure to have some fresh for you, then. A deal is a deal, after all."

Those big green eyes widen even moreso, "Hell hath no fury like fussy Parisians when it comes to the art." Lillie's hands lift so that her steepling index fingers may obscure her smiling mouth for a moment. It is an expression of heightened mirth. "Indeed, a deal. I can bring something to you on Saturday." Offered optimistically, and for a few minutes more she will simply watch the baker work masterfully and eventually bid Quinn adieu. Sadly Lillie, set to leave the bakery to go 'tend graves' toward the old part of town, will have certain plans go on their ear. She pads out of the bakery, the early afternoon sun slanting across the back of her head.

Fast forward to the next afternoon on the Thursday; stationary in an envelope will be delivered to Quinn by way of a farm kid bribed with a penny. Lillie's cursive, strained and harried and not Lillie-like at all… apologizing that her bread offering with be late, closer to Monday.

Something must have happened. Life is funny sometimes. c.c

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