Lechance

With all that was going on, it was really nice to have a day to just be domestic -- unpacking their things in their new house.

He opened another box -- more of his books, of course -- and began carefully shelving them on the built-in shelves next to the desk. A little lost in thought, alphabetizing without really looking, brain more on all the things he could do with this space -- and a little bit on going to find his husband and see what he's up to.

He hummed tunelessly to himself as his mind began leaning more towards the latter, distractedly putting D before B and R before K on the shelf.

He should probably go see the town doctor, if he's going to put together a practice. So despite the fact that he's feeling terribly shy of just about everyone these days, he squared his shoulders, borrowed a chaperone from the Beloveds' hotel, and headed over to office hours.

"Excuse me, sir, are you the doctor?"

He went down to the riverfront early, wanting to surprise Obediah by being there already, welcoming him with open arms and maybe half ready for swimming.

He stretched out on the blanket, eyes up to the sky, and between the warmth and the fascinating little patterns in the clouds and considering what he should do this week to keep himself busy and his to-do list for building a practice, not to mention a letter to his mother he was writing...

... well, he got lost in his thoughts and ended up daydreaming, hands behind his head, little grin on his face

He had to admit, he was nervous. Going to an Ascendant's home, unchaperoned, for the first time in, well. Since the last time.

He'd made a stop near the river to think, and it had heartened him considerably. He remembered that first, fleeting kiss, and the touches in the bar, and it had gotten easier and easier to get himself up off the branch he was sitting on and head to Obediah's home.

He carried himself up the stairs, hands clutched behind his back to keep them still, and finally -- only ten minutes late -- he knocked on the door.

Between themselves, Santiago and Daisuke had made an arrangement to share the forge and workspace. Now that the growing season was over, Santiago could concentrate on creating more business using his farrier skills.

He wiped his brow and looked up from his tools as someone entered.

"How may I help you"?

It was the middle of the afternoon so there were only a few patrons scattered around the tables at the Black Sheep. It would pick up again at dinner but, for now, it was quiet. Obediah had taken a corner booth for himself, feet propped up and distant expression on his face. He was contemplating the future.

Finally, he penned a note requesting an official courting call if Charles was available. He sent it and Mrs. Jenkins to the Beloveds' hotel and then returned to his contemplation as he waited for either a note or the man himself to appear.

Missy ran into the lobby of the Beloved's hotel laughing. A group of the Beloveds and chaperones she had been walking with were all smiling, laughing and talking animatedly, as they all bumbled in together with her. Clothing was rearranged, and calls went out for towels and fresh baths to be drawn.

They'd all been caught out by the sudden downpour, and Missy was still trailing water everywhere when she turned around and nearly fell straight into the arms of someone passing. "Oh, please, my apologies," she blustered, trying to straighten herself out.

Obediah had purchased the most extravagant bouquet he could find, left the Black Sheep in the hands of the Jenkins and headed toward the Beloveds' hotel. Halfway there, he found himself unexpectedly nervous and made a detour to settle his nerves. He walked along the river, toward "his" spot but paused when he noticed that someone was already there.

His hesitation disappeared when he realized who it was. He swaggered toward the other person, grinning broadly.

Late in the afternoon, a small crowd gathered in a field to participate in the gathering of the final harvest of the season. They loaded it into a decorated horse-drawn wagon and followed it into town, singing songs and waving sheafs of hay.

More people followed along as the parade passed them by, leading them into the square that normally held the merchants but had been cleared earlier for the celebration. There were still a few booths set up but they'd been converted to homes for games. The growing crowd was invited to march to the cathedral for a short service or to stay at the square to help set up for a feast.

Lanterns were lit all around the buildings and the square, casting a warm glow. There was just the slightest nip in the air but that would be dispelled when the dancing started later. Enormous amounts of food were heaped on a banquet table and long tables were set with glittering china and strewn with bouquets of late-blooming flowers.

( Letters to Ascendants )

( Beloved )

( Dear sir: )

Obediah wouldn't admit it, but he was keeping an eye on the door. Every time someone came in, he glanced up to see if it was Charles. He didn't blame the other man for turning down his offer of a dance by the river -- it was risque -- but he was glad that he hadn't scared him away completely.

"You'll get a knot in your neck, you keep lookin' for him," Mrs. Jenkins said to Obediah as she breezed by with a tray of tankards. Before he could retort, the door opened and there was Charles.

"Ah! Mr. Carmichael!" Obediah walked over like the good host he was. "A pleasure to see you here at the Black Sheep!"

Carefully folded small and affixed to the bottom of a jar of fine clover honey, still on the comb

Sir:
( I wish to thank you for your fine company and the kind gift you brought with you. )

Obediah had given Mrs. Jenkins the afternoon off from the pub and then promptly corraled her into chaperoning his call on Charles. He showed up at the hotel promptly asked one of the maids to announce him and then went through to the sitting room.

He cleared off a little side table and sat the covered basket he'd been carrying on it. The aroma of freshly-baked bread began to fill the room.

( Letters to Ascendants )

( Beloved )

Ben was waiting for some glass to cool, so he sat out in front of his shop, legs dangling over the railing as he lit his cigarette. He had a pale red welt on his cheek from a burn and his hair was a mess, but he looked pretty damned perky all things considered. When someone passed by he smiled and offered, "Good day."

Simon stood by a market stall, a pinch of tea held between his thumb and forefinger as he sniffed it. Frowned. And sniffed again.

When someone passed by, he said, "If I could have a moment of your time?" Then he offered he stuff to sniff. "Is that strong enough to clear your head, do you think?"

He'd arrived too late in the season to plant much of anything, but once he had chosen his house he'd been able to get a few fall crops in. Squash, peas, some tomatoes. He was still learning the growing season.

Still, it wouldn't make a difference if he didn't have his equipment in working order and his hoe was in dire need of a sharper edge. He lofted it to his shoulder and headed toward the blacksmith's, taking him time to look in shop windows along the way.

He raised his hat as someone approached. "Good day."

Some things take particular bits of talent. Take, for instance, the ability to get lost while walking in a straight line. He had a terrible habit of fogging out a bit while he was walking, and somehow the simple trip from the shop back to the hotel had turned into a much longer walk. He was in a bit of town he didn't recognize; he thought perhaps he had passed the hotel, but he very well may have turned and not realized it.

He adjusted his hat and sighed. "Excuse me," he said to the lady who was just passing by. "I'm a bit lost, I think. I wonder if you could give me directions?"

The inquiries had been discreet and almost unnoticed until each person got a formal invitation, hand delivered.


Mr. Jonathan Stanton IV
cordially invites you
an evening of cards and socializing
at half past eight in the evening
on the first of October.
Refreshments will be provided.

Your company is eagerly awaited.

Jon had the back patio readied, the screens were open and lamps were lit. Several varieties of whiskey, cordials, wine and tea were ready on a table along with trays of pastries. The cards and chips were already sitting at a round table covered in a soft gray brocade cloth.

He was dressed down slightly, no jacket, although his shirt sleeves were down and his vest was on and buttoned. When he heard the first knock, he hurried to the door with a bright smile.