04

 -Sure.

 -What are you preparing? This week's desserts?

 - Yes, I test new things. When I'm done, I'll drop you a tray for you to tell me what you like best.

 - Oh but it's not worth it, you know very well that I don't really like anything sweet.

 But of course... Does she really believe that I don't see her secretly dipping her finger in my preparations?

 -Please. You have to decide what we're going to offer at tea time on Friday.

 -Hm, well, if you want, we'll see... she grumbles before disappearing into the yard.

 I shake my head smiling. Abbi is like me, she has trouble managing simple social interactions. Except that instead of losing her means, she prefers to show her fangs. If I feared her a little at first, I quickly understood that behind her grumbling hides a great tenderness. So I tame it in my own way, without rushing it. And in two hours, I'll drop her off a tray filled with three sweet preparations that she'll devour with pleasure in the comfort of her cozy apartment.

 The blueberry muffins are lukewarm when I arrive at the school's still-closed door. A dozen adults - parents and nannies combined - are already present in the hallway. I sneak into a little corner away, waiting without saying a word. I recognize several faces that I have already met, at the pub or at nursery school. Mila must have found a number of friends, I'm reassured. The door opens, leaving room for the teacher who greets her students one by one as they leave the room.

 My daughter spots me immediately, near her locker. She rushes into my arms, wearing the most beautiful of smiles. I release a long breath of relief when she breaks from my embrace to tell me about her day in detail.

 - It was so good dad! I have the right to sit next to Ella! And Miss Holly knows how to sign really well! She speaks and she signs at the same time, at full speed! She is too strong! She told me her parents were deaf like me, so she used to sign without even thinking about it. She also told us that we were going to discover a book that was too great and that we were going to learn to read and also to write and that we were going to reproduce characters and...

 -Okay, okay, calm down my dear, I cut her off, laughing. You'll tell me everything on the way home.

 Mila grabs her jacket and her satchel, eyeing the metal box I hold in my left hand.

 - Did you bring me muffins? she asks me, her eyes full of hope.

 I will make these cakes again a thousand times just for the happiness that sparkles under his eyelids when I remove the lid from the box. I get a nice kiss on the cheek as a thank you and we leave the school. On the way back, Mila keeps telling me how happy she is with her first day. I watch carefully as she tells me every detail, relaxing with each of her silent laughs. When we get home, she leaves her uniform to put on a t-shirt and thin pants. While continuing to rave about happiness, Mila goes back down the stairs to go to Abbi's. It's a habit we've always had. Abbi adores Mila and Mila loves her back. She must be the only one who knows how to cheer her up with a single smile.

 Her little fist bangs on the wood of the door to announce her arrival but she doesn't bother to wait. She is already rushing inside the apartment, knowing where to find her on a Monday afternoon. As usual, Abbi is waiting for her loving granddaughter on her couch. In front of her, a lemonade and a packet of cherry candies. Not having the patience to take a sheet to write down everything she has to tell him, Mila launches into a silent monologue, her hands listing everything she has already explained to me. I translate aloud for Abbi who doesn't miss a beat.

 - It's very good my little one, very good. Here, drink a glass of lemonade, it will do you good.

 My daughter complies while I place the delicacies I prepared this afternoon on the table. Seeing me, Abbi nods, relaxing her lips slightly. I can't wait to hear his verdict.

 -What else did your father prepare for us? she asks without being able to prevent herself from ogling on my treasures.

 -A blueberry muffin, a raspberry-blueberry entremet and small praline meringues, I replied, avoiding his slightly too piercing gaze.

 -Can I taste the entremet too? claims Mila, mouth watering.

 -Besides the muffin? No it will be too much.

 -Good, good, grumbles Abbi without waiting. We can each eat half if you want Mila.

 I nod and turn back to the set to hide my smile. Abbi wants me to believe that she sacrifices herself to please my daughter but I wonder who these two desserts please the most! As I'm about to get a knife, Mila stops me by tapping on my arm.

 -I forgot to tell you that Miss Holly wrote a note in our notebook.

 -A word ?

 Discomfort hits me in a second.

 -Yes, about a book. Wait, I'm going up to get my notebook and I'll be back.

 A minute later, while I'm slicing the cakes and placing them on two plates, Mila is back with the famous notebook.

 -Abbi, can you read me what is written? My hands are dirty, I don't want to dirty the notebook.

 -Give it to me, baby.

 “Dear parents, as part of learning to read, we are going to work on a series of books called The Witch and the Hedgehog, by David Nicklas. I would therefore ask you to please obtain volume 1 by the beginning of next week. I asked the village bookstore to provide a large stock so that each family can easily find this book. I thank you in advance.

 Miss Holly O'Brien"

 Mila, who hasn't heard what Abbi has just read, scrutinizes me with her big black eyes. I wipe my hands on a rag so I can translate his mistress's words into signs. Immediately, the excitement seizes her again and she pulls my arm so that we leave immediately in the direction of the bookstore. Abbi, still comfortably seated on her sofa, gestures for him to join her.

 - Come on, come on, calm down and have your snack. You'll have plenty of time to go to the bookstore once your stomach is full.

 My daughter must find this compromise satisfying since she sits next to my boss, her hungry gaze following my every move when I place a plate in front of her. The two gluttons do not waste a second to taste the three desserts. Mila closes her eyes as she bites into her muffin half. Abbi licks her fingers as she finishes her entree. They exchange a conspiratorial look before turning to me.

 - All you have to do is put these three desserts on the menu on Friday.

 "Okay," I replied politely to mask my enthusiasm.

 Mila raves for another moment about what she did in class today in front of a very attentive Abbi, who scrapes her plate with her teaspoon.

 -I already know how to write my first name but Miss Holly said that some students in my class could write a lot of words. I too want to write a lot of words but it's hard! I hope she will help me, mistress.

 - Yes, yes, you will have plenty of time to learn to write this year. You will have to be very attentive in class and that...

 My thoughts drift to the note in Mila's notebook. I jot down the title of the book and the name of the author in indelible ink in my brain. When her story is over, my daughter says goodbye to Abbi and we head to the bookstore. The sky is still as low as this morning but the wind has picked up again. I place a windbreaker on the shoulders of my Lilliputian who thanks me silently. No sooner do we arrive at the bookstore than she spots two of her classmates, accompanied by their parents, at the bend of a shelf towards the back.

 -The book must be stored there, she tells me.

 We join them. When one of the children spots Mila, he smiles at her and points to a shelf overflowing with books. My heart is pounding in my chest. I am not at all comfortable in the middle of all these works. Fingertips I grab a book trying to decipher the cover. Wasted effort. I then cast an observant gaze towards the one held by the child in his hands. A navy blue tint in the background, a witch in a purple hat and a big hooked nose, a small brown hedgehog at her feet. I recognize all these elements on the book that I hold in my hands. Phew. Mission accomplished.

 We go quickly to the checkout, preceded by Mila's comrades.

 - Is this a copy of The Witch and the Hedgehog? I asked the bookseller innocently, pretending to look for my wallet in my jacket pocket.

 -Yes.

 When he hands me the book after I've given him the extra, my daughter rushes to hold her future reading companion in her hands. She seems proud to own this book, as if it already means something. And maybe it is for her. Maybe she already imagines herself wrapped up in a blanket, on our sofa, devouring the words as she devours my pastries.

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