She's only half-dressed, looking worn and hungry, her feet bare as she steps into the kitchen. It's clear she wasn't expecting to see anyone in here, the moment her eyes land on Rae.
Sunshine smiles slightly, wiping the flour off her hands onto her apron. "Thank you."
"There's extra cinnamon rolls over there," she says, motioning to the tray of imperfects (for personal disposal, don't you know), which are still warm, gooey with melted cinnamon and sugar, drizzled with homemade icing. "If you'd like one."
"I tend to make a few extras, just in case someone comes in wanting a late-night snack," she says, smiling slightly at the look on Kate's face as she bites into the cinnamon roll.
The table is covered with gift baskets, half-full of various baked goods. Each has a name.
"Not really," she smiles slightly. "I set the dough to rising this morning, for the cinnamon rolls and the things that called for dough. Then I just left them and went outside. Most of the others I've done since sundown."
Something quick, and quiet.
She's only half-dressed, looking worn and hungry, her feet bare as she steps into the kitchen. It's clear she wasn't expecting to see anyone in here, the moment her eyes land on Rae.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
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"Hm? Oh, you're fine, don't worry," Rae closes the oven and sets the timer. "If anything, I'm sorry for taking up all the space."
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(Her stomach growls.)
"No, that's all right," she blinks, shaking her head. "I jus' wasn't expectin' t'see nobody else. You're -- lord, it smells divine in here."
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"There's extra cinnamon rolls over there," she says, motioning to the tray of imperfects (for personal disposal, don't you know), which are still warm, gooey with melted cinnamon and sugar, drizzled with homemade icing. "If you'd like one."
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"May I really?"
Her eyes are as wide as saucers.
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She combs her hair out of her face and moves to the tray, putting some thought into which cinnamon roll she's going to pick.
"My name's Kate," she offers, offhandedly.
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Rae.
And her hair is that same gorgeous color.
"S'nice t'meet you," she murmurs, chewing thoughtfully on--
Well, good gracious, that is delectable.
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The table is covered with gift baskets, half-full of various baked goods. Each has a name.
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It's not clear whether she means the array of baked goods and baskets, or the cinnamon roll she's voraciously digging into. Maybe she means both.
"You must've been in here all night t'do all this."
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She figured Miss Bar handled most of the food in some secret, 'magical' way. But Mike and Sallie are on the payroll, so why not a baker, too?
"Or is this more of a hobby?"
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Hey, she'll be in the black, now, when she leaves for the last time. That's... a plus.
"I'm a baker, back home, so I do the same here."
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There's something familiar about this Rae, and she's trying to decide whether or not it's just her imagination.
(She looks like maybe she just roused herself from sleep, moving slower than normal.)
"So, this is all for the bar, then?"
She heads for one of the refrigerators, and retrieves a carton of milk.
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Each one large, but only half-filled yet, lined with sky-blue paper dotted with sunflowers.
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