Free Red's Untold Tale by Wendy Toliver

good, it can become something very bad.”
    I wasn’t quite sure I followed, but I nodded anyhow.
    She folded my muddy cloak in two and hugged it to her bosom, which made me worry that she’d have to wash her blouse, too. “Those girls will come around sooner or later, mark my
words.”

    The Roberts family lived near the fork in the stream, in one of the nicest cottages in the whole village. Mrs. Roberts hosted gatherings every few weeks, whether or not she could name an
occasion worthy of celebrating. With Violet’s eldest sister at the piano and their father’s pitch-perfect baritone, they entertained the villagers, who enjoyed singing, clapping, and
dancing for hours after they’d cleaned their plates and emptied their glasses.
    Most people found Mrs. Roberts’s get-togethers charming and made every effort to be in attendance, but Granny found the parties altogether loathsome, complaining that Mrs. Roberts only
adored being adored. “It would save that woman a lot of time and money if she’d just sit in front of her mirror and tell her reflection how wonderful she is,” Granny always said.
Granny had made up excuses to miss the parties so often the invitations eventually stopped coming.
    I never really minded, because it gave me extra time to practice shooting arrows or to swim with Peter and the boys, which is what I wished I was doing right then. I inhaled, exhaled, and rapped
on the door.
    From inside, I heard Mrs. Roberts holler, “Violet, be a lamb and see who’s here. I just have two more rows to finish.”
    I took another deep breath and hoped Violet wouldn’t notice the beads of sweat on my forehead.
    â€œRed? What are you doing here?” Violet asked when she opened the door.
    â€œI was hoping I could buy some milk.”
    She raised her left eyebrow and tilted her head. “Is that so? Well, I suppose that could be arranged.”
    â€œMiss Cates made a large order,” I couldn’t resist saying. I knew she thought my granny was as mad as a hatter, and now a drunkard as well, so I wanted her to know that
Granny’s baked goods were very much in demand. “We’ve barely been able to keep up with all the baking and deliveries—and it’s all we can do to keep enough ingredients
on hand. Granny’s business is doing very well, you know.”
    â€œWell, I do now,” Violet said, twirling one of her dark curls around her finger. “Good for her.” I didn’t want to hear about how Granny had crashed the bonfire
party with her mighty crossbow. Or about how Granny was scheming to get the Forget-Me-Not ball canceled. The quicker I could procure the milk and get away from Violet, the better.
    Violet gestured for me to follow her inside, and I did. Someone—most likely one of her sisters—was playing the piano in the music hall, and when we entered the living room, Mrs.
Roberts glanced up from her sewing.
    â€œRed, is that you?” Mrs. Roberts asked. Her hair was every bit as thick and long as Violet’s, yet streaks of white lightened her temples. “My, you’ve been growing
like a beanstalk. Skinny as one, too. Is that grandmother of yours feeding you enough, dear?”
    â€œRed has come for some milk, Mother,” said Violet. “Do we have any to spare?”
    â€œI believe we do,” Mrs. Roberts answered. “Once I get to a good stopping point, I’ll go and check. In the meantime, why don’t you take a seat, Red? I’m sure
you girls have plenty to chat about. I overheard Violet telling her sisters what a nice time she had at last night’s bonfire. I’m sure you did, as well.”
    â€œYes, but it’s too bad you had to leave so early,” Violet said. “And it’s too bad what happened to the lovely cake you brought.”
    â€œOh?” Mrs. Roberts set her needlepoint on the armrest of the sofa. “What happened to