Mabel leaned against the trunk of the apple tree and sighed contently.
In one hand she held an apple, blood red and deliciously sweet, juice dripping down her arm as she lifted it to her mouth.
Her other hand was curled around a baby, wonderfully chunky and currently sleeping in her lap.
Mabel looked down at her first great-great grandchild and smiled. Henrietta Matilda Castañeda was just like her grandpa Nito with an extra finger on each hand, and flaming Pines hair.
In the distance she heard shouting and cries, instructions being yelled and ignored, doors slamming and kids shrieking. The entire Pines clan had gathered for her and Dipper’s 92nd birthday, and she’d rejoin the party in a bit.
Mabel had found, however, that the older she got, the more she appreciated a little down time. Just a little mind you, because she was still Mabel Pines, and she didn’t feel a day over 65 and she and a few of her great-grandkids were going to do keg stands later and freak the heck out of Willow, Acacia, and Hank and it was going to be great-
But for now she was happy to have a few minutes alone with her and Retta.
Gently, Mabel laid the sleeping baby on her stomach onto the blanket that was spread out on the ground.“Hey Henry,” she said to the tree, the ground below. “We have a great-great grandkid. Look how beautiful she is.” Mabel stroked her hair, fine and soft under her hands. “Vienna named her after you.”
She leaned back against the trunk of her husband’s tree, and took another bite from her apple, sweet but with a bitter aftertaste from the skin.
Bittersweet. She could live with that.
There was a shadow cast over them suddenly. Mabel looked up to see her brother standing over them. She smiled up at him and patted the blanket on the opposite side of her.
Apples
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