“Well, that turned out better than I hoped.”
Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll strolled down the alley towards their house. The griffon carried the now empty pot while the filly toted on her back what was left of the cakes.
“How much did we make, Sugar Cube?”
“I haven’t counted it yet, but I know I sold at least fifty bowls of dumplings and you sold everything except those Bundt cakes. It should come up with a tidy sum.”
The filly smiled proudly. “Not bad for our first solo venture.”
Gulliand opened the kitchen door and let Cinnamon enter first. The filly deposited her tray of cakes onto the counter then took the pot from her fiance.
“I’ll wash it for you, Sugar cube. You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen all morning. Sit down and have a rest. I’ll fix us some tea.”
“That sounds nice,” Gulliand replied, smiling. “Thank you, Cherie.”
The griffon stepped into the living room, aiming for the closest chair at the table. Hopefully, he thought, they could afford some comfy armchairs in the near future.
CRUNCH!
Gulliand froze as something snapped under his talons. He looked down and saw something shiny on the floor. Carefully, he picked it up. It was a piece of broken glass.
“Cinnamon! Did you happen to break a glass this morn– OUCH!”
The griffon yelped as another shard of glass embedded itself in his left paw. Looking around, he noticed there were more scattered along the floor.
Cinnamon Roll rushed in, her front hooves dripping with soap suds. “What’s wrong, Sugar Cube?”
“STOP!” Gulliand cried, holding up a talon. “There’s broken glass on the floor!”
“What!” The filly glanced at the scene. “But, how? Where did the glass–”
“There!” cried Gulliand, pointing towards the room’s one large window. “Some of the panes are broken! Look!”
“Oh, my gosh! Don’t move!” Cinnamon ran back into the kitchen and returned with a broom and dust pan. “I’m wearing horseshoes so I should be fine,” she said.
Quickly, she swept up the glass, careful to get every splinter. Gulliand watched as she scooped up the shards and dumped them into a bucket. He tossed in the piece he had been absently holding onto then checked his left paw. There was a tiny sliver of glass sticking out of one of his toe pads. It wasn't deep and Gulliand was able to easily remove it with very little blood shed.
“I think I found what broke the window,” said Cinnamon Roll grimly, holding up a large hunk of red brick. “There’s a few more under the table.”
“Sacre,” the griffon swore. “Search the house! Make sure nothing has been taken!”
Gulliand checked the big room, flying up to examine the hole in the roof to ensure no one had passed through it. Cinnamon checked her bedroom and the larder. She opened the barrels of flour and sugar to ensure no one had tampered with them. Gulliand went upstairs and checked the bedroom while Cinnamon searched the bathroom. Except for the soap which the griffon had left lying in the tub that morning, everything appeared to be fine.
“No one broke in,” said Gulliand, sighing in relief. “It looks as if we are dealing with a vandal.”
“I figgered as much,” replied Cinnamon. “The window is too far from the door for some critter to reach in and unlock it. It’d been easier to go in through the hole in the roof.”
The griffon nodded. “I need to find some griffon to patch that hole for us. I thought we could wait until the lumber was ready, but who knows when that will be.”
“We can get some straw to cover the hole,” Cinnamon agreed. “Right now, we need to find someone who can fix that window. We don’t need the house lookin’ worse than it is.”
Tired as he was, Gulliand returned to the market to find a repair griffon while Cinnamon Roll finished clearing up the mess. He returned about an hour later with a griffon whose feathers were as green and sleek as a parakeet’s. He carried a large leather bag over one shoulder and a thick belt loaded with tools around his waist.
“This is Garland,” Gulliand introduced him. “He fixes windows and repairs thatch.”
“Among other things,” the griffon grunted.
The little filly smiled kindly. “Pleased to meet you, Garland. I’m Cinnamon Roll."
“I heard there was an Earth Pony in town,” he said, looking her over. “Didn’t believe it till I saw you hawking cakes at the market this morning.” He jerked his thumb towards the window. “I’m guessing this is the one that needs fixing. Let’s get started.”
The griffon carefully laid his bag on the table before tackling the window. He pulled a pair of thick leather gloves from his belt and, donning them, pulled what was left of the broken glass out of the frame. As Cinnamon watched, he opened his bag and carefully removed several squares of glass. He held them up to the window until he found the sizes he needed, then proceeded to attach them to the rails. The griffon glanced at Cinnamon who was hovering behind him.
“If you’re lookin’ for a floor show, this is all I do,” he grunted irritably.
“Sorry!” Cinnamon blushed. “I’m used to hangin’ around, helpin’ my family repair stuff.”
“I don’t need any help,” the griffon muttered, turning back to his work.
“Cherie,” said Gulliand before Cinnamon could reply. “Why don’t you make us some tea? Perhaps a little chamomile to calm our nerves.”
The filly nodded and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Garland returned to his work.
“So, you and that pony are living here? Together?” he asked Gulliand.
The griffon raised an eyebrow. “Yes, we are.”
The repair griffon snorted. “No wonder you got your windows busted out.”
Gulliand's neck feathers stood on end as he glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
Garland shrugged. “Most griffs don’t care much for ponies,” he said quietly. He smoothed some putty onto the molding to hold the glass in place. “Some griffs downright hate ‘em.”
“Are you one of those?” asked Gulliand dangerously.
“You think I’d be working for you if I was?” the griffon smirked. “I've had dealings with ponies before. They're not bad. Unfortunately, not everyone around here sees it that way. Especially," he added, giving Gulliand a meaningful look. "Especially when that pony makes pastries to sell in the market."
"Are you hinting that you know who could have done this?"
"I'm not saying anything of the kind," replied Garland. " I'm just saying some griffs don't like competition, especially from ponies. Though, I gotta admit that little filly makes a mean sugar cookie!"
“Oh, I’m glad you liked ‘em,” exclaimed Cinnamon Roll, who happened to walk into the room on that last bit. “I wish I had some to give you, but we plumb sold out of ‘em. I can cut you some cake, though.”
Garland wrinkled his face. “You mean one of those cakes with a hole in it? I think I’ll pass.”
“It’s a BUNDT cake, for Luna’s sake! It is supposed to have a hole in it!”
“Let it go, Cherie,” Gulliand interrupted. “I am sorry,” he added to Garland. “She’s been having to explain that all day. I assure you the cakes are delicious.”
The griffon just shrugged and returned to his work. As soon as he finished, Gulliand showed him the hole in the roof. After an examination, the griffon left to gather some materials from a nearby field. He returned with an enormous bundle of straw and brushy grass which he deftly wove into a thick thatch. Gulliand assisted him in attaching it to the roof.
Tea was ready by the time they finished. Garland was reluctant to join them, regarding the spread with suspicion, but after some cajoling from Cinnamon Roll he agreed to stay. He even tried some of the Bundt cake and admitted it was good.
“Gotta admit, I don’t get invited to tea often,” he said, sipping from his cup. “Come to think of it, I’ve NEVER been invited to tea before! It’s not bad.”
“Gabby said something like that the first time we invited her to eat,” said Cinnamon Roll, pouring herself another cup. “It’s pretty sad griffons don’t invite folks over more often.”
“You may think it’s sad, but I call it a blessing,” snorted Garland. “You lucked out having Gabby over. Most griffons, when they get together, all they do is argue and complain about stuff. The Blue Moon Festival is about the only time we’re able to come together as a community. Then we sit around a table complaining about the food and trying not to bite each others’ head off.”
“It was the same when I was growing up,” agreed Gulliand. “My aunts and uncles and cousins would come and eat dinner. My sisters and I got along well with the cousins, but the adults put everyone on edge. Especially Aunt Garbo. I remember she once sent her food back to the kitchen five times claiming it wasn’t seasoned right.”
“Cookie told me about that,” said Cinnamon Roll, wrinkling her snout in disgust. “Believe me, you don’t want to know what she seasoned it with after the fifth time.”
“Well, I gotta get going.” Garland wiped his beak on the back of his arm and stood up. “I told Grandpa Gruff I’d fix the thatch on a house he’s trying to rent out. The old geezer’ll demand a lower rate if I’m late.”
“Take some cake with you,” Cinnamon Roll insisted. She wrapped the leftover cake in wax paper and handed it to the repair griffon. “You can give some to Mr. Gruff, if ya want.”
“Give something to Grandpa Gruff?” he chortled. “That’ll be the day. No one gives anything to Grandpa Gruff unless they want their head bitten off. That old guy’s prouder than Tirek and a lot grumpier.”
As the repair griffon flew off to his next job, Cinnamon cleared the table and washed the dishes. When she returned to the living room, she found Gulliand still seated at the table with a brooding look on his face. Quietly, she sat down beside him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked softly.
The griffon shook his head. “They are not worth that much,” he replied with a slight smile on his beak. “I just imagined things would be easier for us. The delays with the lumber, you being intimidated by another griffon, and now this! I just never expected this.”
“An expectation is a premeditated resentment,” replied Cinnamon Roll, placing her hoof on his shoulder.
“Interesting," muttered Gulliand. "Is that some of your mother's wisdom?"
“No, I got that from Aunt Fluttershy. That’s what she told me when I thought about droppn’ out of college.”
“What!” Gulliand jerked his head up in surprise. “I never knew you were thinking of quitting!”
“Yeah. It was during my first semester. When I first attended college, I thought it would be like learning how to bake with Granny and Ma. But it wasn’t like that at all. There was so much I had to learn: like business management, food safety, and accounting. It didn’t help that those snobby unicorn fillies were making fun of me at every turn.”
“I knew you were struggling, Cherie," said Gulliand, wiping a tear from her face with his thumb. "But I did not realize you felt that strongly.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk with you about it," Cinnamon sniffed. "We had just gotten to know each other and I didn’t want to dump on ya. When I went home for Hearth’s Warming and I was so upset. I didn’t know what to do! I didn't want to disappoint my family but I felt so let down.
Ma or Pa must have noticed how unhappy I was because Aunt Fluttershy took me aside on Hearth's Warming Eve to talk to me. I broke down and told her how things were going and how I was thinkin' of quittin'. That's when she told me ‘Expectations are a premeditated resentment’. She said when she and Uncle Discord first started their relationship, she thought she could tame him: get him to stop using his powers and be like everypony else. It didn't work out that way. Uncle Discord tried to act normal once, but he ended up almost fading away! Aunt Fluttershy said it made her sad to think she failed, but she learned she had to accept him for what he was.
The point is, if you go in expectin' one thing and somethin' else happens, you're gonna be disappointed. We just do what we can and take things as they come."
“Sage advice," Gulliand nodded. "I am just worried for you, Cherie. We have hardly been here for a week, and have been attacked twice. Garland did not give any names, but I would not be surprised if that rude scone baker was behind this!"
"Maybe," Cinnamon Roll shrugged. "But, I'm not gonna let that stop me. Are you?"
"No." Gulliand held her to him and buried his face in her apple and cinnamon scented mane. "Never!"