Terribly Lottey

by Lacie Perry Parker

  Chapter Four

  First day of work. My Lord, I need to write this day down. It’s incredibly packed.

  This morning I woke up three hours before the sun even came up, and Priscillia told me I could call her Lia. I did notice that that was what Cook called her. So, Lia and Lottey we have become.

  “I need you to set out about forty-five place settings. When they all come down to breakfast you can pour their slop.” Her eyes twinkled. She really rushes about, her hair swinging back and forth.

  Oh! I know what she reminds me of. A gypsy.

  I set out the forty-five cracked plates and bent ten mugs. Then I heard a thunder– it made me shudder, and I watched as a lot of men came rumbling down the creaky wooden stairs.

  “Breakfast! Ends twenty minutes from now!” Lia’s voice is strong and sturdy, and she has no fear of bossing these men around. I think they sort of like it. All of them seem to be flirtatious with her.

  “Mornin’, Miss Priss.” I suppose that is what they call her.

  Cook waddled to me and handed me a bucket of what she called ‘grub’. I must have grimaced when I saw it, because she reassured me that what I would be eating comes from a completely different branch of wildlife.

  “Here you go,” I said, struggling with the five feet long ladle.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  I went along the line, each of them seeming respectable as they thanked me.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. You must be Miss Priss’s new elf,” one man said. He looked over thirty and was missing just about as many teeth.

  “I,” I stalled, not sure what to say. I wasn’t an elf. “I’m Lottey.”

  The man startled me by offering his hand for me to shake. I shook it, but as if it was a dead fish. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Varn. If you’re fond of me, you can call me Varney.” He grinned, and I could see down his throat.

  “Okay, Varn,” I said, quickly moving along.

  That was how the morning went. Twenty minutes of very loud chaps arguing over a disgusting breakfast. Most of them were obnoxious and repulsive, but some weren’t so bad to look at. When they all jetted off to work, they left enough mess to keep us occupied for ten years.

  “And you deal with this every morning?” I exclaimed.

  “Yup, and you’ll learn it soon. It’s not so bad at all when you’re used to it.”

  I just think she enjoys all the male attention.

  “Does cook never come out of the kitchen?” I asked.

  “No,” Lia explained solemnly. “She’s afraid that if the men saw who fixed the food every morning, they wouldn’t eat it.”

  I asked no further questions on the matter.

  I was set to work mopping, while Lia put wet sponges on her bare feet and skated across the table tops. I watched her, wondering if I’d ever get to do that.

  “There’s maggots in the meat again, Lia!” I heard Cook screech from the kitchen with her dusty voice. “What should I do this time?”

  “Oh,” she said nonchalantly, gliding across the wood. If that were me I’d have probably broken my neck by now. “Same thing as I told you last time. Once it’s cooked none of those savages will ever be able to tell the difference between shriveled maggots and dried onions.” She smiled gleefully, as if she really enjoyed being devious.

  I must have blanched, because she laughed.

  “Come, come, Lottey, the floor won’t mop itself. We’ve only got four hours before mid-meal comes around,” Lia smiled. Actually, her smile was simply continuous. It was a happy-I’m-so-content– it was an I-love-being-me smile.

  I let my arms move mechanically.

  After we had cleaned up the atrocious mess we began gathering bed clothes for the wash, which we would do after lunch. And, oh, I choked down puke when I saw the condition of those bed sheets– I wasn’t sure if they looked so bad because they were terribly filthy, or just terribly aged. They were hole-y and brown and spotty, and I would never in a million years touch them to do anything rather than wash them.

  Lunch, which I didn’t eat, consisted of a meatloaf containing little white specks, which I didn’t ask about because I already knew, with very thin gravy that must be one part gravy and five parts water. It is absolutely no wonder that they never take more than twenty minutes for meals. It would be torture otherwise. And just imagine the mess that would accumulate! I would die a thousand deaths.

  I set the tables for the second time that day approximately thirty seconds before a wave of sweaty, stinky, dirty famished men washed in. I would have been trampled if Lia had not yanked me by the arm and carried be through the air to safety. To my experience she has expert strength.

  They were twice as loud and rambunctious than at breakfast.

  “Does that mean they’ll be three times worse at supper time?” I wailed to Cook while I was in the kitchen getting more gravy for the barbarians.

  More of them realized during lunch time that they had never seen me before and were fervently waiting to introduce themselves to me. Am that popular everywhere I go?

  After they fled the boardinghouse to get back to lunch we had to clean up again. And just as I had suspected, the mess was twice as worse. I mopped for twice as long. And I felt twice as despairing.

  Lia taught me her way of washing bed clothes. I asked her where the lye soap was, and she said she didn’t use soap. That nearly outraged me.

  “Do your customers not care about cleanliness?” I exclaimed.

  She gave me a look. Then I remembered just who we were talking about.

  “Scalding water, a big cauldron and a long stick does the trick for me.”

  I stood stirring the boiling bed clothes for about an hour. When we wrung the water out I was surprised there was anything left of them, after the way they had been scorched. But I had absolutely no doubt there was anything unclean left anywhere within their seams.

  And then the horror– supper time came. For some reason there seemed to be twice as many men as before– or maybe they were just twice as hungry. They were aggressive, even. Knocking me flat on my back, trying to seize the last piece of ten-day old bread.

  I wanted to wail for Geroge or even Ryse to rescue me from the mess; for the past three months I had been able to do that. Being on my own is so, so, so, so, so much incredibly harder than not. It’s as if I am kitten who wasn’t ready to be without its mother. And I’m not! But who is my mother?

  After dinner all of the men stuck around for at least another three hours, drinking and playing cards and being loud and noisy. Some played banjos and fiddles and fifes and all sort of odd little musical instruments– unfortunately none of them sounded good together.

  By the time the night was done and they all thundered off to their rooms I had a headache the size of Jyne’s swollen nose. I wanted to hack through my neck to save me the agony. But I had to help clean everything before I was allowed to go to bed.

  Even if this day doesn’t seem to be packed, it was. The day was the equivalent of hell in a boardinghouse. And it creaks!

  Don’t take my complaints the wrong way; I am terribly grateful for my position. It’s better than being a scullery maid. No one hates me or is out to get me in the middle of the night with a whip. It probably is even a little less tiring; I had just been lazy for three months straight and had forgotten about my late reality check. But I will be all right; survival will come with the peak of my hope. I just know this will turn out to be a great situation in my life.

  Are you convinced?

  Days here are all strangely similar. It’s been two days since I had last written and the only thing that is different is the size of my arm muscles. At first I thought something was wrong, that maybe something or some kind of insect or diseasous animal had bitten me and my arm was swelling and sore. I think I panicked.

  “Look, oh Lia! Please tell me I won’t lose my arm!” I bit my lip franticly, chewing on it as if it were a piece of rubber.

  She took my arm,
looking oh-so professional. Then her worried expression went blank. “Good Lord, Lottey, that’s the kind of nip that comes from working hard. It’s called muscle.” She looked at me as if I were the dumbest person in the world.

  I wanted to yank her hair and tie it into a million knots. It was breakfast time and all of the men had overheard, and were now drowning in gales of pitiless laughter.

  Of course I had the urge to flee and cover myself with blankets and pillows and hide from the mercilessness, but I had to stay and help.

  By dinner time everyone had seemed to have forgotten about my stupidness.

  What we eat in the kitchen after everyone is gone is quite tasty, actually; I found it surprising that Lia scrapes for extra money to purchase the purest filet mignon that Cook cooks to perfection. It helps with pangs of wishing I were important again. But I think I’m adjusting quite well, don’t you?

  Today differed a little. I would love to say it was refreshing, but that would be ironic.

  “Lottey,” Lia pulled me aside after lunchtime was over. “I need you to go to the docks and purchase the rotten fish mangle from the sailors.”

  My eyes must have looked blank on the outside and ten feet down, because she explained as if I were two.

  “Just tell them what I said. Rotten fish mangle. They’ll know.” She patted some coins into my palm. “Don’t get lost,” now she was mocking me.

  I sneered, which was halfway sincere, and exited the boardinghouse rather joyously. It was my first time on the streets since I had come. A week is a little long, yes?

  The sky didn’t look near as angry as when I had first seen it. The clouds were far fluffier than the pillow I had been given, and the sky looked watery. It was bright and pretty.

  I made my way along the cobbled roads, careful not to turn my ankle. I had done that before. Only then I had servants to rescue me, for I was only on the path behind the mansion. I don’t even think it was originally cobble; it was simply ancient.

  The ocean seemed to always be in sight. It was so big. I could see it from all the windows, even the window of my little room, which only consists of a flat mattress on the floor and a flat pillow and grayish-white sheets. Its home, I suppose. Oh, how dreadful that was to write. This is home?

  When I finally came upon the docks I walked slowly. I was terrified of walking on the thin wooden planks over the water. They weren’t terribly high, but there were no guards keeping me from falling in and drowning. So, very carefully, I walked one foot in front of the other. I watched my feet intently, assuring myself I was safe and wouldn’t fall. All I had to do was breathe in the sea air, get the end where the sailors were unloading their ships from fishing, and get the rotten fish mangle or what-say from them. I was safe. It was easy.

  Then a flash of light hair and the smell of salt water collided with me and I plummeted– gasping for breath, trying to get as many last breaths as possible. I was knocked off the dock and into the water.

  All of my fears popped out of the story book and began strangling me at once. I screamed and yelped and splashed and wriggled– everything I could think of to keep myself from drowning. It was the deepest water I had ever been in. The second deepest was the bath basin-tub.

  But suddenly I realized I was floating. Waving my arms and legs and circle was propelling me and keeping me from sinking. It was then I screamed, “Someone help me out NOW!!!” and I watched a browned and strong looking hand emerge from the dock and grasp my own. I was pulled, rather effortlessly, out of the water by a person that I would have liked to push off the other side.

  Yes, it was Ryse.

  “I know you don’t like me, but that doesn’t mean you have to kill me!” I exclaimed in his face.

  He looked startled and amused at the same time. “Why ever not?” he asked tauntingly.

  I wanted to break down into sobs and beat on his chest. “Because I’d be dead.”

  “What are you doing here?” His question wasn't demanding; it was curious. Amusedly curious. This frustrated me.

  I threw my hair back with a high-huff. “I am out purchasing some food for my boardinghouse.”

  “Your boardinghouse?” He stepped back and laughed from his chest.

  I pursed my lips and stood still for a grand total of five seconds. “You know, it’s odd seeing you again. I had forgotten you existed.” I pushed through him, wary of the loose planks.

  “Where’s the boardinghouse?” I heard him say.

  Surprised, I turned around slowly. “What?”

  He repeated himself. “Where’s the boardinghouse.”

  I was quite taken aback. I spoke with breathlessness to my voice. “It’s here, in ParKeshan Branch. Twenty-two Gonia Street, I think.” How should I know exactly where it was? All I did was work there.

  He stared at me for a long second, and then nodded. Then he left, and didn’t even bid me farewell or anything.

  I stood there on the dock: soaking wet, shivering through, scared of falling again, and wondering why he didn’t hate me.

  I acquired the rotten fish mangle from a rotten tooth sailor and brought it back to Lia. It took me about an hour.

  “Oh, that’s great. It’s past time to be cooking for supper.” She took the brown-paper packages and set it on the counter for Cook.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get the mangle. But don’t worry, I’ve already been punished.” I frowned with a wrinkled nose.

  “What do you mean?” she wrinkled her nose back.

  “I smell like it.”

  This tickled her. She was about to leave the room, but she caught herself. “Oh, I need you to make another bed up in the fourth room upstairs. We have a new boarder.”

  “Oh?” I said, dreading the thought of being upstairs. It never cease to smell like the men and what they ate.

  “Yes. Name is Ryse something. There’s more sheets in the closet over there,” she pointed.

  Then she left and let what she had just said sink in a bit.

  Yesterday was odd. It is odd to see him at the tables I serve. It is odd to wash the bed clothes he sleeps on. It is odd to clean up after him.

  The funny thing, he doesn’t seem to even recognize me.

  I gave him his breakfast pudge– that’s what Cook calls it– yesterday morning. It was steamy and hot, and there was even molasses to put in it. But Ryse didn’t look enthused about the day.

  After all, I had thought that he enjoyed being by the sea so much more than anything else he had been forced to do during his life. But he looked so terribly glum. “Seems like we’re always running from each other,” I said. “Your being here is so ironic.” I meant to be funny and cheer him up, but I shouldn’t have been that incredibly stupid. Nothing I can say could possibly cheer him up.

  Anyhow, I think I came across the wrong way. He completely ignored me.

  While we were cleaning up the atrocious lunch mess, Lia asked me a personal question. “Do you know our new boarder? Personally, I mean?”

  I mopped drowsily. “Well, I did run away with him to escape certain death and sail with him for three months to get here.” My, that sounded quite adventurous.

  “Really?” She sounded interested. This was her kind of story. “What kind of certain death?”

  “Oh,” I said, casually. “The usual certain death. The kind where someone wants to kill you.” I wanted to keep my adventurous persona, but Lia just gave me the-dumbest-person-in-the-world look again.

  I would love to just write on for pages and pages as I used to, but there is really nothing to record. Of course, I could write that I woke up in the morning with ten pirates with rings through their noses and ears looming over my head, and that they kidnapped me and made me princess of their island, but that isn’t true and writing it would make me even more desolate for wild truths.

  Tonight is a loud ruckus. Almost every single one of the men are dancing and smashing tables and throwing breakable things– actually, it’s not just the men. Miss Priss challenged the
m to a drinking duel. The nerve she has! How can she call herself a lady?

  Oh, yes, that’s right.

  She doesn’t.

  Anyhow, I let myself outside to escape and breathe some genuine smoke-free air. The nights in Branch are nice and cool, with a thin mist that looms for several hours into the night. The moonlight reflects off of it as if it were a pool of water. For a moment I was totally free, my head aloft, being lifted off into the air by dreams… my fingers feeling light as moths on a summer night. I could feel the wetness of the grass between my leathery toes as I slid around. There isn’t much grass in Branch, but what little bit of it there is put me in paradise for a split second.

  Then a voice disturbed me.

  “Is the ocean to your liking, duchess?”

  I spun around, frightened to death for a moment that it was Ivy behind me. I relieved a momentary sigh of relief when I found Ryse in his place. He grinned, as if he had tried to scare me. I tried to grimace, but the moment was so pleasant that my face just wouldn’t move appropriately.

  “It’s wet and doesn’t taste good at all,” I confirmed.

  “But you float.” He thought that was funny.

  “Are you following me around ParKesh, Ryse?” I asked, good-naturedly, though.

  “Someone who knows your background must keep an eye on you at all times, I suppose,” he tried to look solemn, his hands all clasped behind his back and everything.

  I sighed bemusedly. “You’d know my background,” I mumbled. That reminded me that he knew almost absolutely everything about me, and I felt uncomfortable.

  He walked a few paces, sort of awkwardly, pretending to be watching the sky and the stars or something. “What are you planning on doing, Lottey, with your life?” he asked, his eyes still on the stars.

  I wondered if he always kept his eyes on the stars.

  “I wish you wouldn’t have asked me that. I have no idea.” The words I muttered sounded rather depressing. “You know,” I thought, having an astoundingly smart revelation, “if we have absolutely nothing in common, shouldn’t that meant that we’d get along great?” I had to say that; he looked so nice standing in the moonlight, his hair and eyes reflecting as one. Not that I am sweet for him– just socially deprived.

  “Have you ever really thought about that?” he suggested.

  “Yes,” I affirmed. “Just now. Why?”

  “What’s your last name?” he asked. He looked like his devious self again.

  “Devingrole,” I said without thinking through.

  He shook his head with a smirk.

  I felt as if I had just been mashed by a large animal’s foot.

  “That’s not your real last name, it’s your adopted name. You don’t know your real name, do you?”

  When I shook my head, he let out a short but blaring laugh.

  I didn’t think it was funny. I hadn’t realized that horrible fact before, and I didn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

  “I’m going to go get some sleep. Got a full day ahead.” He sighed, not meeting my eyes until I met his.

  “Goodnight,” I said softly.

  “Uh, night.” he turned to go back into the boardinghouse, but he stopped and turned to me. His eyes were on the grass. “You know, Lottey, if you ever need anything– I mean, anything really important, you always know where I am.” And he left.

  His words left me with a stir, but I think I kind of appreciated them. Especially after he pointed out that I don’t have a last name.

  Does that mean I’m nobody?

  I don’t think so. Ryse is quite a person. He doesn’t have one, either. Why do names matter so much? Cook didn’t have one, and she still was a big person– but that is more literal than I’m trying to spotlight. Oh well. For what can I do? I could never make up my own last name.

  Something most wonderful, most spectacular, and absolutely and horribly fabulous has happened to me. My, oh my, oh my, oh my. I don’t know what to write. Perhaps I should write just what happened.

  I was getting more fish mangle for Lia because we had just about run out and all of the men were complaining about watery stew made with leftovers we found on the floor under their tables. So I was sent on my weekly errand a little early. There was a man at the docks: he had on a long black coat on that drug the ground, I could see his muscles rippling under his clothes. His hair was dark and fresh, although it was browner than George’s. He was tall and dark, and had a dashing smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. I almost fell over the side of the dock again when I saw him, and he didn’t even bump me.

  I tried not to side glance at his beauty as I was bartering with a hairy and tattoo ridden sailor. When I was about to pay him, the dashing person spoke. To me.

  “Oh, what a lousy price. If you want good fish for a less, you should trade with my boys.” He folded his arms and exposed the smile I knew he was hiding.

  I almost dropped the coins from my open palm. “Where are your boys?” I said mechanically. I knew in that moment that I would buy whatever he wanted me to.

  “Over there,” he said, pointing with a magnificent and slightly stocky finger.

  “Okay,” I said lightly, as my arms and legs moved towards his site. He heard him following behind me, and it stole the breath from my chest. He was behind me. I walked gracefully, head up high, as if I were carrying something rather important on it.

  “What poise,” he said, “for an errand girl.”

  I hiccupped deep inside and stopped walking immediately. “Thank you,” I said, gaining control of myself. “I wasn’t always this low.”

  “I see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Tough times fall on everybody.”

  “Yes,” I said wistfully. “When one’s family dies unexpectedly, there isn’t much they can do.”

  “Dreadfully sorry,” he used one of my favorite words. “My deepest condolences I send your way.”

  “Must appreciated. Oh– are these your boys?”

  “Yes, Madame.” He spoke with a gentleness no one could deny. He walked past me to what he called ‘his boys’. They were unloading fish by the cartful.

  “Oh,” I said worriedly. “I don’t have the money to purchase such fine fish as these. I’m on a limited budget,” I bit my lip and wrapped my finger around my hair.

  After a moment of watching me he said, “There is always a special arrangement to be made for a person in need.” He continued smiling, and it made my knees buckle.

  I looked across the way and saw Ryse a ways off. He saw me, though. His arms looked tense– in fact, his whole body looked tense. What was that, jealousy? Could he not compete? I sniggered inside.

  “How much do you have to spend on fish?” The dashing character asked, snapping me back to where I was.

  “Oh,” I opened my hand to show him how much I had.

  He whistled lowly. I must not have had much.

  “Suppose we can work with that. How much do you usually purchase? And don’t take advantage of me,” he winked.

  Of course, I didn’t know how much I usually got. The sailors I always purchased from always gave me the order Lia had first placed so long ago– I didn’t know how much that was. “I, I usually get four brown packages,” I offered, trying desperately to sound as if I actually knew how much I usually got. But… I didn’t.

  “I, yes, okay,” I’m afraid I confused him.

  He had the fish wrapped for me. While the ‘boys’ were wrapping it, he chatted with me, so casually. As if he weren’t a hundred feet higher on the status pole. Perhaps that didn’t matter to him.

  “What’s your name, if I may?” He asked slickly, and with a nice smile.

  Oh, no. Oh no. I had absolutely no clue what to say. Of course– I knew my first name, I’d never forget that. I wasn’t that lightheaded. But I didn’t have a last name to give!!! “Sharlotte Rose.” So I didn’t give one. I used my second name instead.

  “Rose,” he repeated, “the most beautiful flower,” with a smile.

 
“Ah, but even the most beautiful flower has thorns,” I fear I flirted, with a returned smile, too.

  “I favor sharp girls.” He was so witty. Not to mention nice to look at. “If I may be so bold to say so, you look stressed.”

  “Do I?” I said, worriedly. I didn’t know stress showed.

  “You must work awfully hard.” He used another one of my favorite words.

  “Um,” I wondered. “Yes. I must, I suppose.” I did work hard. There was no other reason for stress.

  Oh– not looking in the mirror for months and months and months– I could feel how lined my face had to be. Not to mention sunned and possibly… freckled.

  No, I wouldn’t think of it.

  “Would your employer ever give you any time off?” He asked compassionately.

  I shrugged, hugging my shoulders. “What would I do with time off? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Well, if I happened to invite you to dinner one night, would that be a good enough excuse?”

  For an instant time stopped. There he was– his mouth opened from speaking, and he kept on looking better by the second. He had invited me to dinner. Or, he had suggested it. He was being kind to me. He had found favor in me. After all, I was sharp.

  Just pages back I was calling Ryse he– but I liked calling him, he much better. I didn’t even know his name. And he invited me to dinner.

  Okay, time for time to speed back up… unfortunately.

  “I… I’m sure she might…”

  “She?” he inquired suddenly. “Where are you employed?”

  “At her boardinghouse.” I gazed at his eyes. They were… purple. Not even violet; purple. Odd.

  “Ah, the boardinghouse. Many of my boys stay there.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I did recognize some of those who were wrapping my fish in brown paper.

  “Perhaps… if I, personally, went and talked to her, she would allow you to join me one night?” He looked down on me with grace.

  Oh, how badly I wanted to go. Real food, in a real mansion– if in fact he did live in a mansion, which I couldn’t imagine him not. With real servants and everything real that I really do miss. And he wasn’t too bad for company, if I may say that without giggling.

  “I believe so, I really do,” I said, trying not to sound anxious, but finding it terribly hard to do.

  “Alright.” He loaded me up with my brown packages. “Here you are.”

  I opened my hand to give him the money, but he shook his head. My, how thoughtful and generous. I could just imagine what gifts I would leave his house with.

  “Thank, ever so much, more than I know how to even say,” I glowed. I felt radiant. I think it was him that made me feel that way.

  He nodded, bending a tad at the waste, with an enthralling smile.

  I walked home on a cloud full of little fairies dancing about my head.

  I waltzed into the kitchen and gave the fish packages to Lia. She wrinkled her nose. “Why don’t they stink?” She asked.

  I couldn’t stop smiling to answer.

  I watched her open the packages, and her face lighted up like a candle with a never-ending wick. “I should have told you not to steal from the sailors here. They can track you down a million miles underground, even if you bathe first.”

  I stopped smiling– miraculously– and gave her a blank stare.

  “Um.”

  “Um.” We were obviously on the same train of thought.

  “You didn’t steal this? I know I didn’t give you too much money. And this– this was not bought. It wasn’t.”

  She had the truth in her teeth; I didn’t buy it. But neither did I steal it. I opened my mouth to explain– but realized that she would immediately be jealous. Me, getting male attention? Was she left out? But I suppose I was either filled up to the brim with pride, or I knew there was no way to get around it. “I met a man and I think he favored me. He gave me the meat.”

  “Lottey,” she sighed, leaning on the counter. “It’s okay if you’ve stolen something. I completely understand– I’m from that walk of life. It’s okay to admit it. We’ll just take it back, and–”

  We both heard a knock at the door, the kitchen door. It jolted us both. We turned, and I saw him, standing in the doorway.

  “H–hi,” I breathed.

  “Oh,” Lia said, her jaw seeming to drop.

  We all stood there for the longest second ever. He looked so nice and wonderful I liked him even more.

  “Well, Lottey,” she nudged me forcefully, “introduce me to your friend.”

  “Yes, Lia, this is my friend.” I smiled, but my smile cracked, and I began to quiver inside my stomach.

  Lia glared at me rather hotly. She was thinking of my dreadful impertinence– but I didn’t know his name. If I hadn’t bit my tongue I would have introduced him as him.

  “Hi.” He reached forth to shake Lia’s hand. I envied her. “You are Lottey’s employer? I need to speak to you about a matter.” But I stopped envying when he mentioned that.

  “Oh?” she looked lost in a dream. Somebody needed to wake her up.

  “Yes, Lia, about time off and me joining him for dinner. He’s the one who gave me the fish.” I smiled at… him.

  “Mm,” she folded her arms. I was the perfect person to do the job of waking her up. It felt quite nice, too, to be able to compete with her and win this way.

  “Yes. If it’s money for the lost labor, I can pay you, in fish or what-not. I am sure that would enjoy her company greatly.” He looked so gentlemanly, and sounded the same way.

  I like that about him.

  I like everything about him.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure that can be arranged,” she stared up at him, looking as if she’d never seen a man before.

  She had just never seen this man.

  “Great. Tomorrow night would be splendid, if you can spare her. I’ll send some fish and things back with her tomorrow.” He smiled broadly.

  I had made him happy.

  “Until then, Sharlotte,” he bowed. For me. My, what a long time since I had seen that!

  I curtsied pensively.

  He was about to leave, but I caught his sleeve. His sleeve. “Wait– what’s your name? I told you mine, but you never told me yours,” I stood, waiting. I really wanted to know what I could call him.

  He grinned dashingly. “Visel.”

  Yes, all of this really happened. No, I cannot believe it did. Oh my, oh my, oh my, oh I can’t write it enough times.

  “Lottey,” Lia petted my arm, smiling strangely. “Whatever you’re doing to him, keep it up. I’ll double your pay if you can keep this quality fish rolling in.” She continued smiling, for at least a minute, and then she told me I could have a little break.

  So I wrote it down; I just had to relive it again.