Bianca
“More stew?” I asked, although I was already ladling another helping into Benjamin’s bowl. He gave me a grateful nod as the rich aroma of herbs and meat filled the dining room.
I’d insisted on cooking myself, despite Isaac’s protests about me overexerting myself. The old stove had sputtered to life after Benjamin’s electrical work, and thankfully, the ingredients we’d bought in town earlier were more than enough to make a hearty meal.
“This is delicious,” Benjamin’s wife, Elara, said. She was a petite woman with warm brown eyes and laugh lines etched into her face. Her dark hair was streaked with silver, and her fingers were rough and calloused from years of hard work, which I immediately respected. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Self-taught, mostly,” I ad
