“You’re in luck,” Marigold says as she tastes the simmering stock in the pot on the stove, the one so large that she has to step up onto a step to stir it. Sure, she’s only cooking for a handful of people, but she argues that the size of the pot makes a difference, and she’s cooked stock in a 40 gal pot all her life, and never had no complaints! After all, there’s a growing redcap to feed in any case.
“Donal is actually already in town. Dolph mentioned that he was parked out by the east paddock in that crazy contraption of his. That is worth the price of admission on it’s own, even if he didn’t make himself indispensable. But why do you ask? He’ll be by, by and by, to fix my cookware once he finishes anything that needs mending at the stables. Here, sip.” She commands, holding out the spoon to Gwen, from her perch at the top of the step stool.