The Acts of a Good Wife
Ali had spent most of her morning in the kitchen. Not because the chicken soup or various rising doughs really needed her attention (though that's what she'll claim), but because when she was ready to move she found her feet and lap both claimed for the naps of various furry family members and she didn't want to disturb them too much. She was glad when they wandered off to other pursuits, letting her up again so she could finish things and get ready to go out. Thermoses full of spicy chicken soup were tucked in a basket with a bowl of fried black olives stuffed with hot sausage; a loaf of still-warm rosemary focaccia fills the center, topped by a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls. A wedge of blue cheese, a jar of honey, and a few pears were tucked in where there's room.
Everything she'd need, she hoped, to tempt the oft-absent appetite of her more wayward (and probably ill) husband. Once the kitchen's cleaned up she pulled on a coat and gloves and hat, then heads off with her bag and basket to find Jas and discover whether he was coming down with something after all.
Presently, this leads her to his cabin, which she enters quietly.
Everything she'd need, she hoped, to tempt the oft-absent appetite of her more wayward (and probably ill) husband. Once the kitchen's cleaned up she pulled on a coat and gloves and hat, then heads off with her bag and basket to find Jas and discover whether he was coming down with something after all.
Presently, this leads her to his cabin, which she enters quietly.