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“An hour is too short. An hour thirty too long. I visit Martin’s house on Tuesday evenings. Walter’s on Friday. Would it suit you to join me after we marry?”
“Yes, it suits.” She smiled, appreciating the idea of regular but short visits to his family.
Frederick usually walked at a brisk pace, as was her own preference, but today, she was glad for their leisurely stroll. Winter air cooled her cheeks, but her woolen cape was warm, and Frederick was warmer.
They walked in companionable silence, glimpsing into the windows they passed where families gathered. The large house on the corner was especially festive, the green-and-red holly leaves and berries visible on the window sills inside.
Just as they turned the corner, a cold wind caused the bottom of her cape to billow, and Frederick’s arm tightened around her. She looked up at his beloved face, grateful for his warmth. After only a few steps, however, he drew them to an abrupt stop, his expression full of wonder as he gazed upwards.
Molly looked up, and after a moment, her eyes made out the swirling snowflakes against the gray sky. Tracking a fat flake as it fell onto Frederick’s gloved, outstretched fingers, she exhaled a soft sound of awe.
“Snow on Christmas,” he whispered into the wind.
While not quite miraculous, it was a rare enough occurrence, and Molly gloried in its special beauty. They stood there holding each other and watching the snow until flakes covered Frederick’s top hat.
“Molly, being here with you in this moment, witnessing the first snow of the year—it’s a blessing. Please forgive me if this is not welcome—and I’ll understand if it’s an invitation you cannot accept—but would you consider visiting my home,ourfuture home, before returning to the Robertsons’ for the night?”
Her eyebrows drew upward—along with her spirits. “I’m not expected until after dinner, am I?”This feels terribly naughty…“Yes, Frederick. Take me home.”
They found a hansom cab, though the exorbitant fare was outrageous to Molly, even taking into account it being Christmas.
But Frederick shook his head as they walked to the front of his shop. “I usually return on foot, but we haven’t the hour to spare. That was a small price to pay to be here with you.”
They passed through his workshop, where Molly took care not to look at the wall of tools that cried out. They deposited their outerwear on the coat tree in the back of the room.
Molly passed through the door to his private space for the first time. A small kitchen was nestled in one corner, a washroom on the other side.
His eyes darted to the stairway that led upstairs but skittered back to her. “Would you like some tea?”
Itwasrather chilly; her hair was damp and cold where snow had made its way past her hood, melting as soon as they came in. “Yes, thank you.”
She watched with fascination as he quietly went about the tea preparation, his movements practiced and precise.
But the canisters on the shelf!
Much like the row of large tins on his work bench, these were on one hand orderly—an equal amount of space between them—yet mixed in a jumble of varying heights.
“What have you in those crocks?” she asked.
“Tea.” He raised the one in his hand sheepishly, his smile charming, then went down the row. “Flour. Chicory. Nuts.” Blinking, he looked from her to the shelf. “Does it bother you to have four there? Might we move one down so that three sit together?”
Oh, Frederick! She smiled. “Most thoughtful of you to offer. That would help. But might we also…?”
As his hands were busy preparing tea, she took the liberty of moving the containers around, sighing contentedly when they were in the perfect spots, smallest to largest.
“That’s better.” She turned to him, beaming.
Only his eyes were wide with distress, his mouth open as he searched for words.
“What’s the matter, Frederick?” She looked back at the improvements she’d wrought.
“The walnuts. I use them least, so they sit further down the shelf. Oft required, the flour”—he pointed to the walnuts—“should bethere.”
“Oh. I see.”
“Perhaps the flour could be here”—he again pointed to the first spot in the row—“andthenthe nuts?”
She swallowed, understanding that his gesture was one of compromise.
