“Pappa, what on earth is going on?” Hansel demanded.
His father blushed but looked into his son’s face. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “but I hope to find out.” His father smiled sheepishly and continued minding the bacon. “Get some eggs and fresh milk and then see about the bread. Elena wrapped it in a damp towel, so it should be fine this morning.”
As if divining the mention of her name, Elena emerged from her bedroom. She nodded at them. “Good morning, Hans and Hansel,” she said quietly. She moved into the main room. Hansel’s father watched her move across the room transfixed. By the time she reached the table, the two of them were blushing furiously. Hansel shook his head, grabbed a pitcher and a basket, and left the cottage. Any trace of the storm was gone, and the sun coming up
