Leaning against the doorframe to the spacious sitting room, Chuffrey fondly gazed at the back of Glinda's head, soft curls spilling well past her shoulders now, as she told a story to their little girl. The child was on her stomach, feet kicked into the air, propping herself up on her elbows as she listened to her mother with rapt fascination. Thank heavens Glinda had finally gotten the opportunity to be a mother, Chuffrey mused – it had been nearly fifteen years since their marriage, and Glinda had been distraught at the idea that she was running out of time, that she'd never have a child. Now, though, their baby was four years old, spunky and smart. Glinda had insisted upon naming her Fabala, though Chuffrey wasn't quite sure why. His wife had always been proud of her Gillikenese heritage, and so a Munchkinlander nickname seemed an odd choice for their daughter, but the name wasn't unpleasant, and it certainly seemed to fit the child.

The pair of them together was absolutely picturesque. The light from the fire danced on the blonde curls of both mother and daughter, and Fabala's dark eyes sparkled as she listened to her mother's tale. Glinda wasn't reading from a book, either, and was using her hands to describe her story, changing voices for changing characters. Fabala loved it, and Chuffrey loved watching them, especially because of the effect the little girl had on Glinda. He hadn't seen his wife so happy since before the Wizard's departure and before the death of the Witch. A change in the inflection of Glinda's voice brought him back from his thoughts, and he listened to the last words of the story she'd been delivering with such animation.

"And there the wicked old Witch stayed for a good long time."

Fabala giggled. "And did she ever come out?"

Glinda turned her head ever so slightly away from the little girl, glancing over towards the fireplace in a movement so quick and subtle that none but one who had lived with her for years would have noticed it. Chuffrey followed her gaze to the small green glass bottle that had stood on the mantelpiece for as long as he could remember. A slight smile twitched at the corner of Glinda's lips, and she turned back to Fabala. "Not yet."