Grandpa certainly noticed my pride during breakfast (we had breakfast together, as the rest of the house didn't wake up yet). I handed him the toast I just popped out of the toaster oven (gas-powered, controlled by magic, a waste of money, and a gift I made myself with some extra money I got. It was totally unnecessary, but beautiful in how neat it was. I just love alchemical knickknacks like that).
"Why are you smiling so widely?" he asked, as he buttered the toast with the butter I just took out of the fridge. It was hard to spread, but you couldn't keep butter out here; it would melt immediately. It only got out of the fridge for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
"I read mother's letter," I said and gave him the letter (only the pages about my brother's antiques, of course).
He took it a
