A Sweet Taste of Cake, Chapter 14

Chapter 14: The New Girl

Cup Cake had lost track of the number of times that they had worked together to make a gingerbread house. Basic math would say that they had been married for more than ten years, and that should be just about the same number as houses that they had made.

But if the truth were known, there had been more than that. Sometimes they had made several in a year. Some years they had worked late into the night and early into the next morning in their efforts to meet deadlines.

Sometimes they had finished their work and collapsed right there in the morning sunlight that came in through the big picture window. They had let it wash over them as they slumbered together in its warmth.

A smile lifted from her as she thought of all of their little tricks, of all the little practiced motions that they had learned to employ when working together.

They had become more than just little habits. They had expanded and become almost more like traditions.

As those years had sped by, they had remained there ready for one another at all times, always able to feel the needs, fears, and wants of the other. It was as though they just seemed to know what the other was thinking and feeling.

It was the little things that mattered. Those signaled the way their lives had melded so completely. The traditions that they employed as they made these gingerbread houses proved it.

That was the reason why the dollop of frosting was sitting inside her mind, the way it still sat upon his nose as they worked calling out to her. It was because it was new, something unexpected that suddenly it was taking on a sort of meaning.

She knew it was remarkably silly to feel that way, but as the morning began to fade and the gingerbread house neared completion, she felt herself contemplating it more… wondering what it truly meant that he had not removed it.

She smiled a little smile and went back to finishing up the gingerbread house.

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The stage directions would once again read that time had moved forward but that the scene had not changed.

Time had settled around the ponies that had played in both rounds of "The Game of This." Soon almost a decade had flown by.

For some players, the change had been obvious. Almost a decade had turned the nephew and nieces of Carrot and Cupcake, Ruby's children, into teenagers.

They had perhaps stopped being so cute, but they had grown up strong and smart. The oldest mare was studious and intellectual, the colt perhaps a touch rowdy, the youngest mare a lover of art and music. For each had come a mark, the magic of the land displaying itself upon them… the seal of the sovereign.

For Ivory Script, careful planning and hard work had paid off. Amid a wild celebration, she had won her first term as mayor, perhaps the youngest in the history of Ponyville.

For the senior players time had also moved as expected, and Ledger and his wife found themselves perhaps not so sprightly, perhaps more willing to let Trammel run things at the mill on certain days of the week.

Cheesecake and Wishing Well seemed to be defying time itself. As the two mares rebuilt their old friendship, it seemed almost as though it was fueling both of them.

For Quarry came new aches and pains. The old stallion saw more grey than black in his mane each time he looked in the mirror.

But what of the principal actors, the two who had sat upon that bed nearly a decade earlier and had promised to go on the journey together?

For Carrot, life looked much different as he sat upon the precipice of his early thirties. He had struggled to make his bakery grow, yet it seemed that true prosperity had remained just out of his reach.

He could not complain. He was providing for them. Or, more accurately, he was doing his part towards their plans and hopes.

For Cupcake life had not been as sad as she had feared it would be when she was sitting upon the examination table using tissue after tissue.

They were living for each other, each of their acts supporting the other. While they were hardly wealthy, she was happy, and the journey had taken them to amazing new places.

They had traveled, seen far away cities and even distant lands. They still received New Year's greetings from a delightful peryton couple who had taken them on a month long trip through Cervia.

They had returned to that small village in the swamp many times. They had kept the good friends there who always sent gifts. Crates of oranges and citrus had arrived as each winter set in, the fruits a welcome addition to their goods to be sold in the bakery.

But the greatest joy for her, and for Carrot, had been watching their nieces and nephew grow.

Now they were adolescents and their trips to Sugar Cube Corner were growing less frequent. The icebox door was starting to look rather bare without the gifts that had once been presented by smiling faces to a beaming uncle and a delighted aunt.

Together they had been many places and seen many things. Through their struggles they never stopped trying to be there for one another… never stopped finding excuses to press their hooves together and draw a heart around the symbol they had created.

Yet, as their world had drawn on into their second decade together, they could not help but wonder if there was someplace they were supposed to be going on this journey. What was their expedition together going to discover?

There was no way for them to know that they were the destination, that they were the point to which strings of causality were being drawn.



"Later grandpa!" called the colt, Quarry barely even seeing his grandson flash out the door.

The stallion turned to reply, but the door had already slammed shut, leaving him once more alone in the kitchen.

"Later," he said to the empty room.

He woke Wishing Well, and to his immense relief, she seemed to wish to walk today, her condition seeming to be at an ebb. It came and went, the battle between the magics deep within her, and as truces seemed to be called, he happily watched her regain something of her strength.

Quarry wished her a good day and gave her a kiss. With that he was out the door and on the way to his office.

The warm summer sun fell over the stallion as he walked along. He sneered, let it sit on his face as he made his way up the cobblestone streets. The expression was enough to send certain ponies who remembered "the old Quarry" walking to the other side of the street.

The expression was not meant to scare anypony. Instead it was directed within. Quarry was sneering at himself, cursing his old joints that did not want to move as directed, welcoming the warmth of his sovereign's sun to sit deep in his bones.

He looked older than he was… felt every bit older too. His massive frame still was imposing, the dart of his eyes still enough to raise alarm in those caught in them… but, he was older. To Quarry he felt like an old ship whose timbers were groaning, a ship that had begun to leak in places deep and not easily fixed, perhaps fatally so.

Paperclip greeted him as he entered the Hospitable Loan & Trust, his flagship business and the one he had always tended personally.

His oldest colt—the one living with his own growing family in Manehattan—he had taken over almost all the others. Only this one and his co-operative with the rock farmers were still truly his own to guide.

Quarry took the mail from her as they went over the schedule for the day and chatted about any number of things. As they did, he watched the new goldfish circle in the bowl. He tried to remember which incarnation of "Bubbles" this one was, each succeeding inheritor of the bowl keeping the traditional name.

With that he took his coffee into the small, unadorned office and gave a deep sigh. As he did, he wondered if there was anypony out there who was aging as poorly as he was.

Inside an instant he got his answer.

The bell above the door rang out, the familiar sound causing him to lift his eyes over the schedule. There was not supposed to be anyone in for over an hour. The schedule was mostly bare that day.

He ran his hoof through his graying mane and listened for the tone that Paperclip would take as she met whoever had just arrived.

To his surprise it was a happy one. As soon as her muffled voice had sung out, he recognized the owner of the other voice as well.

With a grunt he lifted himself from the chair and walked back to the door. As he opened it, he discovered the face of an old friend…

… a face that was set with deep concern. Eyes that age alone had not sunken sat beneath a faded hat. Quarry could see something painful there, something that seemed to be eating away at this earth pony, one of his few close friends.

"Clyde?" asked Quarry. "What can we do for you, ma' friend?"

The figure of Clyde turned from Paperclip and set Quarry with a distant stare, one that actually made the stallion blanch.

"Oh, Quarry, me bucko," said Clyde as he held his hat against his chest and wavered on his hooves, "I am sorry, me old friend, but have to ask you a favor. In Celestia's name, me old mate, I hate to do it but I have no pony else to whom I can turn…"

Quarry nodded. With a grunt he motioned to Clyde with his hoof.

"Ain't no shame in asking for help," he said while gesturing over his shoulder. "That's why we have friends. C'mon into my office, Clyde, let's get a fix on what's troubling ya'…"

The two stallions entered Quarry's austere office, the larger of the two sliding once more into his hard wooden chair with a distinct sound of effort. He began to wish that he had switched to soft pillows a long time ago, thought to himself that any advantage it gave him to have his applicants sitting awkwardly upon the seats was no longer worth being so uncomfortable.

As Quarry settled in, he looked Clyde over. In the glaring lights of his office, the features of the other earth pony came into stark relief.

Quarry flinched a bit to see how shrunken he appeared, how his mane appeared to be falling out and how ballooned his stomach had become.

He had noticed these things, of course, over the last few years. He hadn't mentioned them out of politeness… and in the hope that not mentioning them would somehow spare him from having to recognize his own growing age.

As Quarry's eyes met Clyde, an awareness fell through him. It wasn't just age that was doing this to Clyde. There was something more.  

"My Pinkie," spoke Clyde as he gave a single tremble, "Quarry, she's dyin'! I'm killing her, Quarry!"

Quarry blanched again and shook his head. "Clyde," he spoke while the trademark rumble came out of his voice, "what… damn, what do you mean?"

Clyde seemed to collapse within himself, his eyes seemed to fall away and stare off towards a horizon that the blank walls of Quarry's office hid from all but his perception.

"My Pinkie Pie, the one with the balloons as her mark," he began as Quarry pictured the bouncy pink pony in his head, "I can't do anything else for her Quarry, me bucko, she's used me up…"

For the next few minutes Quarry listened as one of his oldest friends told him a story, one that slowly revealed a sad truth.

Pinkie Pie had remained herself, yet had become more so. Clyde spoke of how the farm could no longer contain her powerful abilities, how her laughter had seemed at first to fill them but how it had now overwhelmed them.

Clyde spoke of her somehow sensing things, a set of senses that seemed to supercede even her mark, how it at first had fascinated them but now seemed poised to overcome them.

As Quarry listened, his jaw shifted back and forth. Clyde told him that the other girls, Inkie and Blinkie, who had once reveled in Pinkie's abilities as fillies tired of it as young mares. Strife had entered the little white farmhouse, robbing it of the joy it had once echoed through it.

"She'd come bouncin' into the house one day wit' an advert looking for kumquat farmers down in the southlands," Clyde said as he wiped his hoof across the forehead, rubbing it raw and red. "She said that it seemed like fun to say 'kumquat'' so that it must be fun to farm the fruits. Oh! My Celestia, Quarry! They sent her back to us! They couldn't deal with her! Our poor dear Pinkie coming off the train a sobbing mess..."

Quarry's jaw shifted back and forth.

Clyde spoke of ten years' worth of trying, doing everything that they could think of to help their Pinkamena. The way they had struggled to find somepony who could help her explore her mark, yet how those ponies had all gone pelting off, smeared with frosting.

Clyde spoke of the special summer camp for those trying to understand their marks... the way he'd gone to pick her up only to find buildings aflame and filled with popcorn.

"I can't help her anymore, Quarry," said Clyde as he lifted his face back to his friend, "Roxy, me poor suffering wife, she and I can't keep up with her… none of us are so young anymore. She's only getting stronger, seemingly without constraint, needs somepony to lead her in her mark…"

Clyde gave another shudder, closed his eyes and looked to Quarry with some small horror hidden behind his eyes.

"There's not been a chicken hatched at a farm within twelve miles o' ours that ain't had a birthday party for three years! Two days ago I came home to see her throwin' a party for some rocks and a bag of flour, Quarry! A buckin' bag o' flour!" wailed Clyde, his curse being the first Quarry had heard from him in their long friendship.

"Quarry, please, I need your help," Clyde spoke again, fixing his sunken eyes upon Quarry once more. "She's dyin' out there on my farm! There's naught I can do for her and she's sufferin' for it… I don't know what to do for her!"

Quarry looked to Clyde; saw the very real worry that rested there, the worry of a father for his family. He was more than familiar with it.

As Clyde continued to tremble and shake, Quarry leaned back and let a slow sigh escape him. Of course he would help, but how? The pink filly's mark was one of exuberance, joy… partying. That was something he himself wasn't much good at, and he doubted Paperclip was interested in breaking in a new girl here at the office.

His mind wandered, thought of what parties involved. Balloons, streamers, punch, cakes…

Cakes.

"I think I might have somethin' for her," Quarry spoke as he nodded to Clyde, "but I gotta run it by mah' son-in-law."

As he watched, something seemed to settle within Clyde, as though life was returning to him, the possibility itself lifting his broken spirit.

As short while later, Quarry was trotting through the street once more, this time making for Sugar Cube Corner.

He had admitted to Carrot long ago that he preferred the new name, but when he asked what had inspired it all he got was a few giggles and a blush. He let the matter drop as a knowing look had passed between his daughter and the stallion that he had taken to calling "son."

He reached the store, skidding to a stop across the cobblestones.

Quarry sighed, knew that he was about to break one of his old rules. Favors. He hated asking for favors, hated being asked for them even more. Friends mattered though… and so many of the old rules were already dead to him.

With that Quarry entered Sugar Cube Corner.

There were already a few customers within. As he waited for them to clear, he looked deep within a glass bell jar and studied the éclairs within. He pondered the face of an old grey-maned stallion that stared back at him even more.

This Quarry was a vastly different stallion than Mean Quarry in many ways. Though the massive frame still stood around him, he knew that much of the power had come out of it, and much of his rage with it.

He knew that it had been replaced with something else, something far more valuable. He saw his own mark, the ladder coming out of a pit of rock, reflected in a distant showcase. He thought about how like his own mark he was…  he was hard, but he'd been pulled up by something. Something that the amber-colored stallion that now called to him had helped reveal.

"Quarry!" called Carrot. "Good to see you, can I get you something? Let me grab Cupcake and tell her that you're here…"

"Hold on that for one second, son, I need to talk to ya' fer' a bit. Oh, and ya' can wrap me up a éclair, too," he said, placing emphasis on the first letter of the treat. He rolled the "e" in a long tone as he lifted his hoof to Carrot, calling him closer.

As Carrot wrapped the éclair, he alternated between preparing it and listening to his father-in-law, letting the entirety of what the stallion was asking him grow upon him.

"I have a good friend, one who's got troubles," said Quarry with his low rumbling tone evident, "one of his foals has grown up strong in their mark, and he's got no clue what to do. Since the kid's mark is for partying and the like, and that more often than not leads to eatin' and such, I thought of you…"

Quarry stopped, shifted his jaw back and forth, let the uncomfortable word prepare itself before dropping it out over the room.

"I'm-I am wonderin' if you'd do me a favor… do-do ya' need an apprentice?" he said with an uncharacteristic stutter.

Carrot nodded back to Quarry. "Well," he said, "I have always wondered what it would be like to have one, and I'm certainly not opposed. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, of course! I-I'll have to ask Cupcake first, but I'm more than happy to help… I won't say no to a little help around here! Let's have him send the colt around and we'll…"

"Filly… more of a young mare, in point o' fact," interrupted Quarry, looking down at Carrot as the stallion handed him his éclair. An expression wavered across Carrot's face, one that Quarry reflected upon as he awaited the reply of this stallion he had taken as family.

"Well-well, I'm not opposed, but… but I can't bring anypony into this house without Cupcake's opinion. I especially won't bring a young mare into our home without her saying it's okay. I, I hope you understand…" said Carrot as he looked to his father-in-law.

Carrot felt Quarry pat him on the shoulder.

"Ya' got a way of knowing the right thing tah' say at the right time, you know that, son?" said Quarry with a chuckle. "Don't worry on it too much, it's somepony she knows. If there's anything I can do for you, don't be afraid to say so, Carrot."

The two turned towards the kitchen, and began making for the pantry. Quarry heard his daughter humming in the room beyond, her tone only seeming to have gotten sweeter over the near decade that had passed since these two were married. It seemed more like her mother's before Wishing Well became ill.

As they passed through the kitchen Quarry heard Carrot clear his throat, his hooves coming to a slow stop across the wooden floors.

"Actually," said Carrot while once more meeting Quarry's gaze, "there is one thing… something that I'd wonder if you'd consider doing for me."



Quarry left Sugar Cube Corner smiling, the big éclair dangling from his mouth in its little bag. There was good news for Clyde.

Upon reaching the Hospitable Loan & Trust, Quarry deposited the éclair in front of Paperclip and informed her to cancel the rest of his appointments for the morning.

Turning once more back out into the street, the big old stallion felt himself becoming slightly winded, what with all of the walking he was doing today.

He laughed at himself as he turned back down a familiar road, one that led him to his own doorway.

Upon entering, he went on quiet hooves to the living room. There Wishing Well sat in front of the fireplace, the space within absent of flames as the warmth of spring washed through the house.

He approached her quietly, thought of how lonely she looked without her grandchildren around her. As he did he realized that Carrot's request certainly had merits. With that he nuzzled her gently.

"Darlin'," he whispered as he touched his nose to her shoulder, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

"Oh! Quarry," came Wishing Well's voice as she awakened from her nap, "is it that late? No, it is hardly even noon! You've come home so early!"

"Heh, that's true, Darlin', that's true," he said as he sat in front of her. "Just had a talk with Clyde, and then with the kids… Cupcake and Carrot, that is."

He grumbled a bit, tried to shake some growing stiffness out of his legs.

"Feels like I been walkin' all damned day!" he laughed as he turned his back to her. She knew intrinsically what he was asking for in the way that all old married couples do.

As she kneaded her hooves across his back, he told her about Clyde's dilemma, about how Cupcake and Carrot had agreed to take in Clyde's energetic daughter as an apprentice.

He told her about Carrot's request, gathering her hooves around his shoulders and leaning back to her as he did.

After they had discussed it for a good long while, they agreed. With that Quarry stood, and together they went off through the streets of Ponyville. As Quarry pushed his wife through the small city, the wheels sounded out happily over the stallion's complaints about all of the walking he was being asked to do that day.

Before long they had arrived at a small house, and the strain of that tiny word once more fell over him.

Wishing Well watched Quarry pace back and forth, knew that conversations of the type they were about to have didn't come easy to him.

"It's alright, Love," she said while reached up to touch her nose to his. "The worst she can say is no, and then nothing much will change…"

"I'll feel bad for Carrot, though," he said as he knocked upon the door. "It's a right proper stallion who puts his mother first."

With that a surprised Cheesecake opened the door to her small home and welcomed them inside.

Quarry did his best to sit politely as the mares talked. They had just seen each other the weekend before. He wondered where they got so much to talk about in such a short period of time.

He looked down at the tray before him. Upon it stood just a few crackers and slices of cheese. He got the distinct impression that it was all the food that was within the house.

He looked to the mares and wondered how they were aging so gracefully, what with Wishing Well being sick and Cheesecake not eating very well. He lifted his mug, took a long sip and then cleared his throat.

The mares looked to him.

"I… don't mean to interrupt," he said as he intentionally interrupted, "but we ain't just here on a social call, Cheesecake."

"Oh, oh… I-I'm sorry, I've been going on," floated Cheesecake's voice, the ethereal tone hovering over the room. "Please, what can I do for you two?"

Quarry cleared his throat once more and told her the story of his unusual day, accentuating how much walking he had been doing, and told her that her son had made a request.

"And, ummm… oh, what did Carrot ask you about?" she said as she looked to each in turn.

Quarry rubbed his hoof through his mane, looked at her over the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Cheesecake, your boy is powerful worried for you, living here all alone. None of us are getting any younger, after all," he began.

"He's always looked out for his mother," she said, smiling back to him, "he's always been so good to me. But, what does that have to do with you two?"

"Well, seein' as Wishing Well and yourself get along so well, and I hate having her alone most of the day now, what with the grandkids off at academy and Ruby out of the house most of the day… well," Quarry cleared his throat, "well, Cheesecake, we were wondering if you'd do us the favor of considering comin' to live with us in that big ole' house of ours."

Cheesecake opened her mouth, but no words came. She felt Wishing Well's hooves wrap up in hers. She looked down into the face of her dear friend.

"Do consider it, Cheesy. I should love to have you about, and we would be most accommodating," said Wishing Well as she patted Cheesecake on the hoof. "It would be so wonderful to have you with us…"

Cheesecake smiled and laid her head to that of Wishing Well.

An hour later Quarry was grumbling his way back through the streets to Sugar Cube Corner to tell Cupcake and Carrot the good news. His shoulders went stiff as he did.

He returned to his office and leaned back against the chair for a grand total of about five minutes before his aches and pains got to him. He told Paperclip to cancel his afternoon appointments and with that went out into the spring air.

Upon his porch was a proper sofa. As Wishing Well dozed nearby in her wheelchair, he put a soft kiss upon her forehead and lay out upon the welcome expanse.

As the warm spring breezes tousled his rigid grey mane, he complained to nopony about how all of the walking was beating him up. With that he left his aches and pains behind as he fell into a well-deserved nap.

A little voice drifted on the breeze. "Thank you, you have no idea how important that was," it spoke as it drifted on the breeze. "You cannot know how much that mattered. Thank you, my child, rest well…"



Not quite a week later Carrot stood at the top of his stairs doing some light cleaning, wanting to have Sugar Cube Corner ready for the appearance of their new resident.

Behind him and down the hall, Cupcake finished laying linens in the bathroom, the one now especially set-aside for their apprentice.

Many thoughts went through the two, and the few small memories Cupcake had of a pink filly did little to calm Carrot's concerns and answer his questions.

As he finished sweeping the upstairs hallway, the bell above the door rang, and he placed the broom aside, knowing that at this late hour it could only be their new arrival.

He turned and faced down the stairwell. To his amazement the sound of excitement seemed to erupt from the downstairs. The sudden presence of a new energy was wrapped in it, one that seemed to fly up the stairs and buffet him in its winds.


With that began the third round of "The Game of This."


He trotted down the stairs, straightening himself up as he went.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he had expected to find some young mare cautiously standing there, perhaps even a little teary-eyed at being away from home.

His perceptions were blown away as he witnessed a small stack of suitcases lying jammed in and around the door. Inside his showcase room a form of energy seemed to have been unleashed, perhaps some kind of magic spell or even a natural phenomenon like ball lightning seemed to be bounding about.

It was only after a moment of contemplation that he realized that it was a pink mare, one who seemed to be going from stand and stack and back while naming all of his treats in quick succession.

"… and cream puffs and almond tarts and macaroons and…"

He watched as she seemed to bounce around, seemed to be trying to expend an energy that was cascading through her. He looked on in amazement as she continued to spring from one decorated confectionary to the next.

"… and Chiffon cake and Black Forest cake and, and Mr. Carrot Cake!"

Carrot turned his head to see her looking right at him with a massive smile.

"Oh! Hello! Yes, I am Carrot Cake, and I take it that…" he began.

She had one of his hooves in hers before he had even completed the sentence. She stood there, dancing on her rear hooves as she seemed to try to spin him around, tried to sing as she did…

"Oh, it's a land of treats, and a land of cakes, Oh, I've found that nothing beats…"

She suddenly stopped, looking more than a little defeated. Her expression changed so quickly that it startled him.

"Oh! And I was so sure that I had it that time!" she said with exasperation.

She turned to him again, regaining herself as she once more became happy and vibrant and another smile went across her face.

"Is that our Pinkie Pie?" came Cupcake's voice from the bottom of the stairwell, her tone lifting as she set eyes upon a young mare who looked so much like a little pink filly who had come frequently with her family to the big house. To her it was as though she was looking over a beloved little figure that she had babysat, one that had exploded into the form of a young mare.

Carrot looked on as Pinkie leapt for Cupcake, seemed to try to nuzzle her and hug her at the same time.

"Miss Cupcake, Miss Cupcake!" called Pinkie as she wrapped Cupcake tighter.

Carrot could not help but smile as these two mares renewed their acquaintance, as he saw something flow through Cupcake that he enjoyed seeing on her face very much.

"Oh, actually dearie, it's Mrs. Cupcake now! Have you met my husband, Mr. Carrot Cake?" asked Cupcake, releasing her hold on Pinkie.

"Uh huh! We went dancing, but I couldn't remember the song…" Pinkie exclaimed as she bounced around again.

Cupcake looked to Carrot quizzically. He simply shrugged his shoulders.

Before he could even lower his expression, this pink mare had bounded up to him one more time and now wrapped him in a hug as well.

Carrot blushed and tried to think of something to say. Before he even could do so, she was off again, bounding across the room to introduce herself to the pastries.

Cupcake and Carrot watched her for a moment, different emotions washing through them. As she went along, their eyes followed her as she seemed to be unraveling a whole new world, one that was full of excitement and new discoveries and suspiciously short on commas and periods.

"… and I can learn how to bake pastries and cookies and pies and that's really good because I'm Pinkie Pie and you're Carrot Cake and Cupcake and… Ohhh!"

Carrot's eyebrow arched as Pinkie seemed to stop in midair and turn to Cupcake.

"Hey! You should change your name to Cup Cake instead of Cupcake! Two words, and that way you could be mister and misses Cake, and then you would be the Cakes and you could make cakes and I'll make cakes too and that will be really neat except that my name is Pie… Pinkamena Diane Pie, actually, named after my Granny Pie who…"

As she continued, Carrot turned to his wife and smiled once more. Carrot expected her to share his growing sense of the absurdity. Instead she seemed to be lost in thought.

"Honey Bun?" he called to her, lifting his hoof.

"No thanks!" answered Pinkie Pie. "I'll eat later. I think I should get my things inside right now!"

Cupcake seemed to shake off her distraction and watched instead as Pinkie Pie gathered up a few of her belongings. She threw her smile between them as though wondering which would be the first to offer the next bit of excitement.

"Come along, Dearie," she said as she grasped Pinkie's hoof, "let me show you to your rooms, and then we'll take the ten bit tour, righty?"

"Okee dokee, but I'll have to pay you back the ten bits later," Pinkie answered as she followed Cupcake up the stairs.

Cupcake now offered the smile. She looked back down to where Carrot shrugged his shoulders. He lifted a few more suitcases and opened the door to see what she had left outside.

As he did something large, cylindrical, and rather unhappy looking stared back at him. He fumbled for the word, fought to bring it to the fore. When he did his statement sounded out into the street in a politely restrained panic.

"Is that a cannon?!"

After stowing the artillery piece in the downstairs den, he joined them as the tour moved from Pinkie's few new rooms and into the bakery as a whole.

As they watched, she seemed to launch into a convulsion. Shades of panic seemed to wash over Carrot and Cupcake. As soon as they moved to help her she stopped and looked back to them with yet another smile.

"Uh oh! Pinkie sense! Watch out for something falling… oh, and a door opening too!" she said with a smile.

Carrot and Cupcake tossed a look between them, not quite understanding what was going on.

"Pinkie sense?" asked Carrot.

"A door, Dearie?" asked Cupcake.

With that the folding door to the attic came open, lurching down over them with a clang and dumping a cloud of dust all across the couple until they stood there in it looking more like ghosts than ponies.

"Yup!" said Pinkie, walking between two distant rooms, appearing to enter one room and come out of a different one entirely. Pinkie looked up to see the two standing there, saw that as the door had fallen, Carrot had pulled his wife into him and had sheltered her.

Pinkie smiled at them as he lifted his foreleg from across her face, revealing the rosy eyes where something of a fond resemblance seemed to grow. "Awww!" intoned Pinkie, "what's up here?"

"Oh," said Carrot as his wife gently brushed the dust from his face, "just the attic…"

"Neato!" called Pinkie. "Let's take a looksee!"

Carrot had gingerly pulled himself up into the attic, bravely going first into a space not often used by him or his wife. He tripped a few times, the rickety old steps and the broken spring that had caused the collapse biting at him as he climbed.

A few items hovered around the entrance to the space: the Heart's Warming tree ornaments and magical lights, the fans for summer... a box of books containing baby names.

He looked upon this last one, different thoughts going through him as he waited for whichever mare would come up into the lofty space behind him.

"Whatcha doin' Mr. Carrot Cake?" came a voice out of nowhere.

The voice came from behind him, from out of the darkness of the attic beyond.

The singular effect was to cause him to yelp and jump in alarm… and fall back down the attic stairs.

Pinkie Pie looked down through the trapdoor to see a stunned Carrot Cake walking along in wobbly patterns as Cupcake brushed beside him, trying to steady him as his tongue stuck out the side of his head and metaphorical birds flew around him.

"Pinkie," Cupcake called up to her in surprise, "how did you get up there? You, you didn't go up the ladder…"

"I used the stairs at the end of the hall! Sorry about all of the old boxes and stuff, but that ladder doesn't look to safe to me! Why, it looks like it could fall down at any second!" she said, stating the obvious.

Almost in tune with her observation the second spring broke, earning Carrot's ire.

Carrot once again began to climb as Cupcake went off to research Pinkie's finding.

Carrot, now bruised and dirty, watched Pinkie as she jumped, swirled, and cavorted around the open space. He saw how happily she seemed to swim through the expanse of the attic. It was as though she longed for a release, a freedom he could not name.

He had never really thought about this space much. He had never seen it as much more than a large drafty room that stayed far too hot in the summer and got too cold in the winter.

As he stood by the old fireplace, stuffed tight with old newspapers and bits of insulation, he could only marvel at the freedom she seemed to be experiencing by just being in there… just being able to expend some of that marvelous energy.

"Careful for the door, Mr. Carrot Cake!" said Pinkie. Her voice reached for him and he watched as Pinkie gave another shake.

As sweat poured from his brow, he looked to the distant trapdoor of the attic stairway, locked it in his gaze.

Unfortunately it was the door beside the fireplace that came open, Cupcake unintentionally walloping him as she discovered the truth behind Pinkie's earlier discovery.

"Why, Carrot, it is true!" she said as she fought through the door, not realizing that the mass that she heaved and shoved against in frustration was the prostrate form of her husband, "We've been here for all of these years and we never knew that the old closet was a stairwell! Why, we can replace the boards and get rid of that nasty trapdoor! We can…"

Cupcake looked for him. She turned around at once to see her husband upon the floor with his tongue sticking out of his head, looking as though he had been having a hard afternoon indeed.

As Carrot recovered with his throbbing head resting in the lap of his wife, the two listened and watched as Pinkie continued to dance about the space. As Pinkie pulled some insulation away from one of the windows, she continued to voice her thoughts.

"… and we can have dances up here and we can throw parties and we can host buffets and we can rent it out and we can…"

Pinkie began to try to sing again, to give voice to her happiness. As she did, she once again shuttered to a stop and her hooves seemed to skid beneath her.

She deflated once more, the failure of her song and dance catching her and making her own magic seem to fade.

She turned and looked to Carrot and Cupcake as though wondering if they had seen how badly she had failed at her attempt.

Instead, Pinkie smiled. The two sat there once more covered in dust and cobwebs that had fallen from the window and beams above when the insulation had been pulled free of the panes and shutters.

"Wowie zowie, you two sure like to get messy!" she said while spinning once more and looking high overhead. "Oh! Is that a cupola?"

A short while later a very dirty and dingy Cupcake and Carrot Cake sat in the downstairs living room, the one located off of the kitchen and the den that doubled as the bakery office.

Together they shared the most bracing beverages that they had and looked to one another with subtle looks of surprise, concern, and hilarity.

At once Cupcake's ears perked up. Carrot followed her eyes as they looked to the ceiling.

Overhead, the sound of hooves sounded out, and the dull thud of a pony landing on a bed reached them as the spring evening dove into night.

A short while later, as some of the beverage definitely was seen to disappear from the decanter, a new sound filled their home and place of business. The sound of a sleeping pony drifted over the house, a pony that had very suddenly become a part of their lives…

… one that snored rather loudly.

The glasses chimed as they touched them to one another. As a soiled Cupcake tucked herself closer to a grimy Carrot Cake, they thought about how she had already made them ponder so many things.

Yes, they could use the attic to host parties. Why hadn't they thought of that?

The chance to open up their lives to somepony new… it was both exciting and at once terrifying. They were now both covered in dust and cobwebs. Carrot was even slightly bruised. There was a price to pay, this they realized… they had not simply been provided free labor.

There were real issues here, ones that would have to be resolved. A cannon sat a room away, after all, and they both wondered how she would react to some basic ground rules.

Even as they discussed what those rules would be, they could somehow sense that this was another part of the journey of their lives, that they were somehow been dealt another hand in "The Game of This."

No matter, it would all work out. In the end, there was a new pony in their lives. For all that it would involve, they both knew they wanted to feel what that was like, a chance to help somepony find her mark, to grow…

Overhead the sound of a snoring Pinkie Pie fell over them. As they looked to one another, dust toppled from them, and Carrot pulled a fine filament of cobweb from the hair of his wife.

Pinkamena Diane Pie had, they realized, been in their lives for a grand total of three hours.

"And you wanted kids!" Cupcake said in a chiding tone, smirking at him.

He laughed and gathered her in closer. As he did so, her smirk disappeared into a warm smile as their noses rubbed together for a great long while. With that they sat in their parlor and finished their drinks, wrapped close to one another as the sounds of the spring insects drifted in through open windows.