Anne, being Anne, felt the compliment to her work as a compliment to herself, and though the blush of uncertain embarrassment faded away, the quiet glow of pride did not. "Nothing so romantic. It takes me a long time, and much of it is a lot of tiny adjustments and staring at very small things on tables. My friends grow bored with it very quickly." She smiled to him, but it didn't have the honest simplicity of the other smile, the small one. She reached out three fingertips and touched the trunk of her tree, greeting it quietly with a trace of her fingers. If she looked, she could find flaws, but she did not look, for it was done, and once done she looked at her pieces as wholes, and not in constructed pieces. She was happy to share it with him, and the same hand touched his wrist as she turned toward the kitchen. "I had better... the water will boil over. Did you want to try the peach?"