Part 8
I managed to be on time for this update! Yay Me! It has been a truly horrific week here. Many things are in flux unexpectedly and I do flux about as well as a walrus does skinny jeans. I should have facts to work with tomorrow which will help a great deal. Even negative facts give a girl something to work with. In the mean time I have homework, and a few ideas about where to take this art/writing thing I have happening here. If you all have any good ideas to throw my way I would love to hear them. Like wise if you have any complaints about things as they are throw those my way too. I learn from both.
Thanks for hanging in with me, there may be a cupcake in your future for your temperance.
I opened the door to find him on the door step, still tall and covered in a cloak. His hat shaded his eyes and threw his chin into sharp relief. I had been holding my breath I realized as I let it out quietly, it might have been someone else.
"Good Afternoon." Scintillating. I astounded myself.
"Good Afternoon Cora." That deep voice set the rest of my lingering fears to rest, it was quite unmistakeable. I couldn't suppress a smile.
"May I come in?" I couldn't tell if he was amused with the shadow of his hat obscuring his face so I stood aside rather quicker than I had planned and gestured for him to enter. He filed the hall and as I shut the door the light fled blocked by the wood panel and the width of his shoulders. I stepped up to the hall tree and stopped following habit.
"May I take your hat?" I asked and then waited to see what would happen.
He turned to face me and in the dimness I only saw a vague shape lift his hat from his head and then it was hovering in front of me at chest hight. No movement of the shoulders, no ripple in the cloak to betray how the hat had gotten there. I looked up into his face and reached for the hat hesitating only slightly when I felt something warm and rounded against my fingers. He smiled at me finally and I hung the hat on the stand smiling back. I couldn't help it, my face was simply too directly connected to my happiness in that moment to show anything else.
"Is there anything else you would like to hang up?" Pushing was his style but two could play at that game. My reward was another smile so I considered it a paying gambit.
"Not this time I think." He moved back to wait for me to pass him in the small hall and as I did I heard a very quiet rumble, "But perhaps the next…" I walked away and felt that small quirk of the lips treacherously infest my face. He planed another visit already. I felt positively alluring.
The parlor had been swept and the cushions fluffed before lunch and I had personally fiddled about in the kitchen putting together a nice tea with fresh scones and some honey from our hive. Cooking was one of my favorite meditations and being a contemplative person I spent a great deal of time with our cook learning and eventually taking over breakfast, tea, and alternate lunches if I wasn't out for the day. It had allowed us to keep on the woman we all loved even though she was getting old enough to have retired a few years ago. The little bit we offered in wages made a great deal of difference to her and I simply couldn't imagine life without Maman in it. I had confidence in my scones if nothing else about this afternoon.
Mother was already seated in her customary chair with a basket of fancy work beside her and a sleeve cap on her lap. She looked up and set her work aside to greet our guest, "Luther I presume? I would give you your Mr., but our Cora hasn't told me what it might be." That trademark grin was on her face again, I always felt that she went through life amused by everything. A cheshire cat would have had a time out doing my mother.
Luther crossed the room to bow in front of her chair, "It's Luther Strasberg madame. Your Cora didn't tell you because I was so engrossed by her conversation I never mentioned it when last we met."
Mother nodded. "You'll do." She said and held out her hand,"My name is Ellen."
He looked a little startled but rustled his cloak and proffered a fabric covered lump to be shaken. She just stood there with her hand out waiting patiently. I knew this gambit, she would stand there all day waiting while you squirmed. It was incredibly effective on me and I watched to see what it would do to him. Mother was victorious as always, a slit in the cloak gently swept aside and a limb no thicker than my wrist extended slowly away from the bulk of his body until it hovered steady an inch from her hand. She reached up and shook his tentacle slowly looking him in the face the whole time, her small hands encircling the limb in a firm grip with no air space between them. I will admit to being mesmerized by the process. His arm, if that was the right word, moved quite bonelessly in her grasp. I resolved to repeat the process for myself as soon as the opportunity presented itself to ascertain the texture of the flesh and the fluidity of the limb. I wondered if anyone had ever made a maquette of a Cephelopodian? As I had pondered Mother had gestured to a low wide seat with a scooped back we kept for the ladies who wore the larger bustles for their fittings. It had been a good choice for him letting his many limbs settle comfortably but still presenting support for his back. I thought he had a back anyway, he had a front so it was a reasonable designation. At that moment my father came through the door with a small tea trolly lurching behind him.
Thanks for hanging in with me, there may be a cupcake in your future for your temperance.
I opened the door to find him on the door step, still tall and covered in a cloak. His hat shaded his eyes and threw his chin into sharp relief. I had been holding my breath I realized as I let it out quietly, it might have been someone else.
"Good Afternoon." Scintillating. I astounded myself.
"Good Afternoon Cora." That deep voice set the rest of my lingering fears to rest, it was quite unmistakeable. I couldn't suppress a smile.
"May I come in?" I couldn't tell if he was amused with the shadow of his hat obscuring his face so I stood aside rather quicker than I had planned and gestured for him to enter. He filed the hall and as I shut the door the light fled blocked by the wood panel and the width of his shoulders. I stepped up to the hall tree and stopped following habit.
"May I take your hat?" I asked and then waited to see what would happen.
He turned to face me and in the dimness I only saw a vague shape lift his hat from his head and then it was hovering in front of me at chest hight. No movement of the shoulders, no ripple in the cloak to betray how the hat had gotten there. I looked up into his face and reached for the hat hesitating only slightly when I felt something warm and rounded against my fingers. He smiled at me finally and I hung the hat on the stand smiling back. I couldn't help it, my face was simply too directly connected to my happiness in that moment to show anything else.
"Is there anything else you would like to hang up?" Pushing was his style but two could play at that game. My reward was another smile so I considered it a paying gambit.
"Not this time I think." He moved back to wait for me to pass him in the small hall and as I did I heard a very quiet rumble, "But perhaps the next…" I walked away and felt that small quirk of the lips treacherously infest my face. He planed another visit already. I felt positively alluring.
The parlor had been swept and the cushions fluffed before lunch and I had personally fiddled about in the kitchen putting together a nice tea with fresh scones and some honey from our hive. Cooking was one of my favorite meditations and being a contemplative person I spent a great deal of time with our cook learning and eventually taking over breakfast, tea, and alternate lunches if I wasn't out for the day. It had allowed us to keep on the woman we all loved even though she was getting old enough to have retired a few years ago. The little bit we offered in wages made a great deal of difference to her and I simply couldn't imagine life without Maman in it. I had confidence in my scones if nothing else about this afternoon.
Mother was already seated in her customary chair with a basket of fancy work beside her and a sleeve cap on her lap. She looked up and set her work aside to greet our guest, "Luther I presume? I would give you your Mr., but our Cora hasn't told me what it might be." That trademark grin was on her face again, I always felt that she went through life amused by everything. A cheshire cat would have had a time out doing my mother.
Luther crossed the room to bow in front of her chair, "It's Luther Strasberg madame. Your Cora didn't tell you because I was so engrossed by her conversation I never mentioned it when last we met."
Mother nodded. "You'll do." She said and held out her hand,"My name is Ellen."
He looked a little startled but rustled his cloak and proffered a fabric covered lump to be shaken. She just stood there with her hand out waiting patiently. I knew this gambit, she would stand there all day waiting while you squirmed. It was incredibly effective on me and I watched to see what it would do to him. Mother was victorious as always, a slit in the cloak gently swept aside and a limb no thicker than my wrist extended slowly away from the bulk of his body until it hovered steady an inch from her hand. She reached up and shook his tentacle slowly looking him in the face the whole time, her small hands encircling the limb in a firm grip with no air space between them. I will admit to being mesmerized by the process. His arm, if that was the right word, moved quite bonelessly in her grasp. I resolved to repeat the process for myself as soon as the opportunity presented itself to ascertain the texture of the flesh and the fluidity of the limb. I wondered if anyone had ever made a maquette of a Cephelopodian? As I had pondered Mother had gestured to a low wide seat with a scooped back we kept for the ladies who wore the larger bustles for their fittings. It had been a good choice for him letting his many limbs settle comfortably but still presenting support for his back. I thought he had a back anyway, he had a front so it was a reasonable designation. At that moment my father came through the door with a small tea trolly lurching behind him.