dessert and music

When Hilda had already returned home and was about to close the door, she found Eric following her.

"Your." Eric handed the wooden box in his arms to Hilda.Seeing this familiar wooden box, she reached out to take it and asked, "Have you been to Paris?"

Eric took off his hat and cloak before saying, "Yes." Hilda's whole body tightened, her breathing slowed down, and she asked in a calm tone as much as possible, "You're going to see Christine?" Is it?" "No." Eric said, sitting on the sofa beside her, staring at Hilda holding the box.

She pursed her lips, turned and went up the stairs.

Eric himself was a little nervous. This was the first time he had faced Hilda since his conversation with Daloga, and he didn't know what to say to her.

"I baked a cake... and there's a piece left," Hilda went downstairs and took a cake from the kitchen and put it in front of him and said, "It's for you." With the small spoon next to it, I dug a piece.

Hilda sat across from him somewhat uneasy, with both hands on the table, staring intently at Eric's movements.

A few rays of sunlight slipped in and cast on the dark blue curtains rolled up by the breeze. If you look closely, you can find delicate dark patterns on the curtains.The fragrance of the flowers around the house also floated into the house through the window frame with the breeze - the fresh fragrance of flowers mixed with the sweet scent of desserts made Hilda feel much better.

"Hilda?" cried Mrs. Martha.Hearing the sound, Hilda stood up quickly and opened the door, only to see Mrs. Martha walking in with a piece of cloth.She was a little surprised to see Eric sitting with his back at the dining table, but when she turned to look at Hilda beside her, a smile appeared on her face again.

"Are you all at home?" Mrs. Martha smiled softly.

Hilda closed the door and stood before her without speaking.This made the atmosphere in the room suddenly awkward - even the fragrance she smelled just now slipped out quietly.

Mrs. Martha stopped walking towards the sofa, turned her head in confusion to look at Hilda who kept rubbing her hands, and looked at the back of the person who had put down the spoon.She raised her hand and said, "Look, I just found a good piece of material. I think this color suits you too, so I'll bring it here for you to see." She handed the piece of material in her hand to Hilda .

Hilda took the cloth, and gently touched the protruding patterns on the off-white soft cloth. "I think you need a long skirt!" Mrs. Martha looked her up and down and said to her.

Eric just stood up from the chair and turned around. He looked at Hilda who was still a little hesitant, and said, "That's trouble for you, ma'am."

Mrs. Martha smiled even more happily when she got the answer. She took back the fabric and said, "Yes, it's all right. I hope you have a good day!" Hilda walked quickly to the kitchen and took out a bag of biscuits, handing it to in her hands.Mrs. Martha took the bag, opened the door to say goodbye, and left.

"I don't think I need an off-white dress right now." Hilda whispered as she moved towards Eric.Eric watched her little movements without moving, and said, "There will be one day."

Hilda froze for a moment, she stopped and said quickly: "I'm going upstairs first—I'm curious about what's in that wooden box." She ran up the stairs and returned to her room, and put the quilt on the table Opened the box - there were several letters and small things she had left with Mrs. Irene.

She picked up a little hand-drawn card with a picture of the window of Mrs. Irene's bakery.She turned it over to the back, which Anne had drawn, and there were these lines on it—Hilda read it silently, and told her to take care of herself.She also saw a small tin box next to the box-this is Annie's candy.

She opened the box and took out a piece and put it in her mouth. She raised the corner of her mouth and smiled and opened the letter on the top——

"Dear Hilda:

I know you've left Paris, but there are things I haven't told you.After thinking about it for a long time, I will write it here-if only you can see it someday.

I know your mother. It can be said that your mother and I are old friends.She helped me a lot too - not in Paris, of course.After seeing you on the street that day, I already knew about your situation, so I took you to the bakery. This can be regarded as my thanks to your mother.

I don't know what relationship you have with the Opera House (and I found out that for a while you even lived there).When I knew that Mrs. Geary was usher at the opera house, I didn't hesitate to say yes to her list, knowing that it might be of some help to you - and it turns out that there is.

I don't know what you went through at the opera.

Not long after you left Paris, a fair-haired girl hurried into the bakery to ask me where you were, but of course she got no information.When I looked up and saw her sad face, I knew something was wrong with you.

I followed her to the basement of the Paris Opera House. Seeing that there was nothing here except a piano, the girl cried out sadly, covering her face.

Hilda, I just hope you're okay.

Ps: If you have read this letter, it proves that you are indeed fine, then I wish you happiness.

Mrs Erin"

She stared blankly at the familiar font on the letter, and thought of Mrs. Irene in the bakery on the corner of that street in Paris.She carefully refolded the letter and put it in the drawer, closed the box and put it aside.

Hilda looked up at the clock, the black pointer was almost pointing to "1".She hurried down the stairs - the living room was empty now, Eric should have gone to his basement.

"Good day, Sister Hilda! Your stuff!" said Charlie, standing outside the open window, waving his hand cheerfully.Hilda stood up and went to the window and said, "Let's go into the room first!" Charlie ran to the door, and when Hilda opened the door, he saw the little boy rushing in. He shouted excitedly: " Is there anything delicious?"

Seeing how excited he was, Hilda turned back to the kitchen and handed him a bag of chocolate fudge.Charlie handed her what he was handing over, and took the fudge from her hand and put one in his mouth.

"What is this?" Hilda asked suspiciously, looking at a thin piece of paper in her hand. "Mrs. Martha asked me to pass it on to me," said Charlie, wiping his mouth. "It seems to be about the bakery."

bakery?Hilda lowered her head to see clearly the words on it—these are the addresses of several shops that will be transferred in the near future.

Charlie had already finished eating a bag of fudge at this time. He looked up at the ceiling longingly and said, "If there is really a bakery in the small town of Ivars, then I can go to eat it every day! There will always be One day I will eat all the desserts in it!" "It's not okay to eat like this every day," Hilda laughed when she heard his words, "It's just a dessert after all, isn't it?"

"I saw some sprouts in the yard in front of the door. Are these flowers planted by my sister?" Charlie raised his head and asked. "Yeah, Linda helped out." "Wow, that's great!" Charlie exclaimed.He walked to the door, put his head in arranging his small satchel, waved to Hilda and said, "I'm leaving, I still have something to deliver!"

Charlie closed the door and left. Hilda saw the disappearing figure of the little boy running outside the window. She looked down at the note in her hand.

"What's the matter?" Eric asked from the basement and walked up to her.Hilda shook the note and said to him: "A few days ago, I mentioned to Mrs. Martha that I wanted to open a bakery. I didn't expect to send the address of the shop today."

Eric took the note and glanced at it. He raised his head and said to Hilda, "Do you want to open?" "I just don't think there's anything to do here in Ivar." She sat on the sofa and looked at it with dull eyes. up to the ceiling.

Hilda sat like this for a long time, but there was no movement behind her.She stood up slowly and turned around - Eric was still standing behind the sofa, and he met Hilda's gaze and said:

"Can you spare some time for me?"

The author has something to say:

In the past few days, I am going to start writing from scratch! !

This also indicates that I am about to end Yaya Yaya! !

Well, I still have a lot of feelings when posting for the first time, so let's talk about it when I really finish it.

Scratch my own such unsightly writing orz.

(It is possible that I will be struck by myself + I will trough myself every day)

"If you want a writer to be autistic, find her first article and show her the head."