Meanwhile, Alecto puts a pot of day-old chowder to boil on the stove, adding a few extra potatoes and shucked clams to it before calling for his daughter. Daphne appears almost instantly, a breath of fresh air, her long blonde hair tied up neatly in ribbons. She looks up at him with his husband's eyes, shining with the glow of selkie magic, and Alecto smiles, soft and loving.

"Momma," she says, dragging the step stool next to the sink over to the stove and climbing onto it so she could be just a bit taller, "Can I help now? Please?"

"Yes, sweetie," he replies, gently tucking the back of her blouse neatly into the elastic band of her skirts. "I'd like that very much."

He teaches her small things like how to skim the surface of a stew and add heavy cream and bacon fat to nectar, how to boil and mash potatoes, and then guided her cut up the rest of the sourdough on the countertop (they did a rather atrocious job in the end and every slice was uneven in shape and thickness but it didn't matter as Alecto's spirits had lifted considerably, watching his daughter squeal and giggle, having her fun). Together, they wipe down and set the table and Daphne gasped with delight when her mother allowed her to ring the brass dinner bell to call the rest of the family to eat.