A.c.iii: Secondary market sales are only permitted on festival or other guild approved days. Individuals found to be engaging in repeated secondary market sales will be found in violation of guild statutes and subjected to repercussions depending on guild status:

  A.c.iii.1: Guild members found to have either bought or sold on the secondary market outside of allotted times are subject to an immediate fine of no less than twice the cost of the purchase, not to exceed four times the cost of purchase. Repeated offences will result in expulsion from the guild.

  A.c.iii.2: Non-guild individuals will be subjected to a fee of no less than three times the cost of the purchase with no maximum. Repeated offences will result in progressively higher fees including incarceration in a debt relief institution.

  -Excerpts from Merchant Guild Bylaw Handbook-

  Whatever Joe had been expecting when the door to Moira’s parent’s house opened, it was not what he got. No sooner had he knocked than the door was nearly ripped off its hinges by a barrel of a woman who came no higher than his shoulder. Within milliseconds of spotting each other the woman had squealed happily and crushed him against her in a rib cracking hug.

  “Well this must be the Joe we’ve heard so much about.” The woman crowed as she did her best to separate Joe at his T11 and T12 vertebrae.

  She’s got a southern accent. How does she have a southern accent? Joe tried to do something, anything to stop the onslaught, but his arms were pinned to his sides.

  “Down Githa. He’s a chemist, not a blacksmith. You’ll break him in half at that rate.” The voice was high and reedy which fit the man behind Githa perfectly for he was also high and reedy. He looked like some cosmic entity had taken a normally sized man and stretched him out to almost seven feet tall. While his head brushed the top of the doorway, his limbs were thin and wiry. His words did have the desired effect however, as Githa released Joe who sucked in a lungfull of air the moment his chest was no longer compressed.

  “Oh he looks sturdy enough.” Githa chirped, sweeping an invisible bit of dirt off Joe’s shirt and standing back to admire him like a prize winning pumpkin. From beside him Moira heaved an audible sigh.

  “Well, that’s half the introductions done.” She grumbled. “Joe, this is my parents Githa and Howe Fairchild, and this-” Moira jiggled Sarah where the six year old was playing shy in her mothers arms. “ is Sarah. Sarah can you say hello to your grandma and grandpa?” Sarah turned her head just enough so that one of her luminous yellow eyes peeked out between her mothers neck and chin before retreating back into hiding.

  “Aww, it’s ok Sarah. Grammy’ll wait until you feel like saying hi.” Githa crooned, coming over and rubbing Sarah’s back.

  “Sorry Mom. We ran into some trouble with highwaymen on our way here and she’s been a little sensitive ever since.” Moira said over her daughter's head.

  “Did you take the main road?” Howe seemed to remember Joe’s presents and appended a “pleasure to meet you Joe” before turning back to his daughter. “There shouldn’t have been anything like that.”

  “We did, I let the next inn know but we’ll see if anything is actually done about it.” Moira said. She hiked Sarah back up onto her shoulder as the heavy six year old was slipping slowly out of her mothers tired arms. “Baby, can you stand? My arms are starting to get tired and I can’t keep holding you.” Sarah didn’t respond verbally. Instead her grip merely tightened around her mothers neck.

  “Tell you what Sarah,” Githa whispered in a syrupy tone. “Why don’t you come inside with Grammy and help me finish getting your room together. I’ve got a couple of different quilts all laid out and I just don’t know which should go on your bed.”

  “I want to stay in Mama and Joe’s room” came the pitiful reply from the still hiding child.

  “That’s good,” Howe cut in from his position by the door, “because we only have the one guest room. How about you get down and I’ll give you some chocolate drops.”

  “Howe!” Githa scolded, “do not start bribing her. She doesn’t need sweets.”

  “Yeah, you never bribed me!” Moira complained, but even as she did so Sarah began to uncurl and look over at her grandfather. He shrugged, completely unabashed. “It worked didn’t it? Come on Sarah, let's go look at your grandma’s blankets.” He held out one long fingered hand and Sarah wordlessly took it, allowing her mother to set her down before she was drawn inside by her grandfather and down the hall.

  “She’ll have him wrapped around her finger in no time.” Githa sighed, putting her hands on her hips. She glanced over at her daughter and gave her a smile “We’re glad you could come Sweety, it’s been far too long.”

  “I know Mom, I’m sorry.” The two shared a hug before following Howe and Sarah into the house. Joe lingered on the doorstep a deep hole he hadn’t even known was there suddenly ached in his chest at seeing the easy love displayed between Moira and her mother. Well I’ll have to unpack that later he thought to himself before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

  <><><>

  The interior of the elder Fairchilds was cozy, if a little cramped. The issue likely didn’t have much to do with the actual space available as it did with the contents of said space. Despite having retired from their professions, Moira’s parents still seemed to indulge in them as a hobby with the artistic results showcased throughout their home.

  The walls were covered in twisting metal sculptures or stained glass panels of mind boggling complexity. Most of the furniture was made of twisting metal wire with table surfaces of large sheets of spun glass or mosaics of tiny glass tiles. Each piece likely would have sold for thousands of dollars back home, but here were given no greater thought than one might give a piece of flatpack furniture from a big box store. They narrowed hallways to the point that the occupants had to move in single file, and left the probably quite spacious living spaces greatly lacking in available surfaces to sit upon.

  “Wow Mom, you’ve been busy.” Moira commented, running her finger along a chair that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a brutalist prison. Its harsh outline had been softened somewhat by an incongruous pink afghan that clashed horribly with it. “Do you ever sell any of this stuff?”

  “Oh here and there. It’s just so hard to get a lot of this stuff out of the house it hardly seems worth the effort.” Githa said dismissively from her position in the kitchen. Joe could just see her through the cut out window over the stove that looked out into the living room. She was busily boiling water in a copper kettle that really belonged in an art museum while adding loose tea to a teapot that would have sat on the plinth next door.

  Wow no wonder Moira’s work is so good if these were the people she studied under. Joe thought to himself as he dared to sit on the pink brutalist chair. The metal surface sucked away the heat from his body almost instantly, but he found that if he used the afghan as a cushion its effect was lessened.

  “Why not just have people tour the house?” Joe suggested from his perch. “Then you don’t have to move all this stuff anywhere.”

  “Open a shop? In our house.” Githa gave Joe an indulgent smile. “I don’t think Howe’d ever forgive me. Plus the charters aren’t available.”

  Joe opened his mouth to suggest a yard sale before shutting it again. Steady on Joe, you don’t know if they have that sort of thing here. It’s entirely likely that the merchants guild doesn’t allow that sort of thing. He made a mental note to find the Southgate guild rep and ask before bringing up the idea to Moira and her family. Instead he accepted the tea Githa gave him, delivered in a glass teacup fashioned to look like a flower, and slipped into a pleasantly mundane conversation of catching up. After a while they were joined by Howe and Sarah who were dragging a box of Moira’s old toys.

  Dinner that night was a meat pie almost as big as Joe’s torso. Where other cooks would have filled such a monster with lesser meats like chicken or pork, Githa Fairchild managed to stuff the better part of a brox between the crusts and still have room for a thick, herbed gravy. It tasted to Joe like the best steak pie he’d ever had and he vowed then and there to stop turning his nose up at the strange chicken adjacent meat.

  The bed that had been provided to them was large enough for all three to fit on, but just barely. Sarah insisted on sleeping in between the two of them and Joe honestly couldn’t fault her for that. Even now, days later, poor Sarah was still waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares. That night was no exception with the pair being woken up sometime shortly before dawn by Sarah’s cries and flailing limbs. Joe got a fat lip in the melee, but they soon got Sarah quieted down. By that point however, Githa and Howe were awake so the family made an early breakfast of it.

  Joe was beginning to realize that Githa did not do things by half. Despite the early hour she managed to whip up a world class spread. Savory breakfast meats fought for position next to beefy biscuits dripping honey and jam. Eggs with rich orange yolks sweated butter as they hung out next to exotic looking fruits studded with sweet crunchy grains. Joe had no idea how Howe managed to live with Githa and remain as rail thin as he was. He could only assume they didn’t eat like this all the time.

  The food did a lot to help Sarah feel better. She even allowed herself to be coaxed onto the couch by Howe to read some of Moira’s old storybooks too, an action that put a smile on Moira’s face.

  “Why don’t you two go for a nice morning walk?” Githa suggested, gently shooing Moira and Joe back out the kitchen and into the front hallway. “We’ve got Sarah, you two go enjoy some time to yourselves.”

  Moira didn’t look entirely happy at the prospect, but nodded. “Ok, but we’ll only be going around the block and coming back. Sarah’s sensitive right now with what happened on the way here and I don’t want her to freak out.”

  “Oh if you insist, but I promise she’ll be fine. Now shoo!” Joe didn’t even have time to put his two cents in before being ushered out. He glanced over at Moira, taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

  “Well, where to?” He asked when he had her attention. She blew out an uneasy sigh, its tone alone telling Joe how tense she was. “Hey,” he leaned over and lightly kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be ok. You’re allowed to leave your kid with your parents. They haven’t seen her in, what, five years?” Moira blew out another sigh and nodded. “Let’s just meander for a bit. See if we can find anything fun to do with Sarah this week.” Joe suggested. The idea that they were doing recon for future outings with Sarah seemed to soothe her mothers frazzled nerves. Moira gave Joe a little smile and a hand squeeze.

  “Ok, lead on.”

  “What, why me? I’ve never been here before.” Joe said with mock indignation.

  “Well I haven’t been here in years.” Moira countered, her voice taking on just as much of a playfully indignant tone as his. She started walking, seeming to pick a direction at random and Joe let himself be pulled along.

  Southgate, despite what its name may imply, seemed to have been built with no main road in mind. Instead a random tangle of what had likely once been animal tracks formed a gordian knot of roads and byways that were a trap to the unwary. In defiance of their best intentions, Moira and Joe soon found that ‘the block’ they had been going around did not fit into three dimensional Euclidian geometry. After thirty minutes of walking and forty five minutes of attempted backtracking, the pair had to admit they were well and truly lost.

  The realization left Moira fuming while Joe wondered if Githa had done this on purpose. They’ve lived here long enough, you think she’d have warned us about the roads. Joe thought to himself as he did his best to sooth his simmering partner. His tried and true method of sprinkling little kisses along her neck did little to help though, leaving him scrambling for new ideas.

  “Why don’t we get something to drink?” Joe suggested once it became clear his normal methods weren’t working. “It’s starting to get hot and I’m sure we can get directions back.” He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. “There was something that looked like a cafe a block back that way. Why don’t we try that?” After getting a terse nod from Moira he led the way.

  Unlike Academyway whose buildings all conformed to a set architectural design, Southgate’s buildings were just as chaotic as their roads with styles, purposes and sizes running the spectrum from tiny hovel to three story fortresses. While the building the two of them approached had a large front veranda studded with small clusters of tables, it could have just as easily been someone's house as it was a place of business. Although from the number of people scattered around the place Joe guessed it was more likely the latter.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The space inside had the feeling of old money residential converted into commercial. Polished dark wood panelings reflected off the mirrored surface of the shiny lighter wood of the floor. Decorative archways sectioned off the space with plant filled urns dotted around. A large staircase swept up and into a second floor balcony with brass railings. For a moment Joe wondered if maybe they’d just gate crashed someone's party, but a female minotaur in a tasteful uniform stepped up to greet them.

  “Good morning and welcome to the Duke’s Table. Did you have a reservation?” Despite the woman’s size, her voice was a soft soothing whisper. It was the sort of voice one might use in a library to be polite and likely wouldn’t have carried to anyone other than them. She smiled down at the pair as Joe came to the horrible realization that they’d just stumbled into a fancy restaurant looking for a cup of yara.

  “Um, we, were actually just looking for a place to get a quick drink and ask for directions.” He stammered out, trying and failing via hand gestures to elaborate a point he himself wasn’t entirely sure of. The waitress simply gave him a pleasant smile, choosing to ignore the flailing of the man in front of her.

  “Oh if it’s drinks you want we have some room on the veranda or at the bar with seating available right now. If you want a table or food we’re currently at a two hour wait for non-reservations.”

  “The veranda sounds lovely.” Moira said, finally stepping in to save a drowning Joe. He shot her a grateful look as they were led back out the door which she responded to with a blown kiss.

  “I’ll be right back with the drinks menus. My name is Veronica by the way.” Their waitress said as she showed them to a small bistro table flanked by a pair of less than comfortable looking chairs.

  Joe pulled Moira’s chair out, which got a small laugh from the blacksmith before she settled herself down and let him slide her chair in. “Thanks Joe,” she said with a smile before picking up a menu. “You know you don’t have to do that right?”

  Joe gave a grunt as he flopped down into his own seat, scooting it in as delicately as he could so as not to scratch the floor. “Do what?” He asked absently.

  “Get my chair for me. I appreciate it, but you’re not my servant. I hope I don’t make you feel that way.”

  Joe was about to ask what she was talking about when he stopped and actually took a moment to think. Ok, so she said I’m not her servant when I got her chair for her. Does that mean that the whole ‘pull out your dates chair’ thing isn’t a custom around here? Gunna make an intuitive leap, say yes and just roll with it for now. “I know, but I just thought it would be a nice gesture. I’m sure we’d have gotten back just fine if I hadn’t insisted on leading us back.” He said at last.

  Moira gave a snort, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “Honestly? Probably not. I’ve not been here in five years and I swear nothing looks like how I remembered it looking.” She glanced back down at the menu before continuing. “I don’t see anything on here that’s not alcoholic.”

  “Back side.” Joe said, motioning for her to flip the tough cardstock around. Once she did she gave a grunt of approval and started browsing again. “Why haven’t you managed to get over here in so long?” Only after he asked the question did Joe actually stop and think about how it sounded. “If you don’t mind me asking. I didn’t travel much in my past life and was just curious.”

  Moira waved away his hasty explanation with a smile and a shrug. “Life mostly. It’s hard to break an ingrained routine at the best of times for me. Add in a child I’m solely responsible for and suddenly doing anything more than the every day feels twice as hard.” Now it was Moira’s turn to embarrassingly add an appendix to her statement. “Not that I’m saying I regret having Sarah…It’s just.”

  “Kids are hard.” Joe shrugged, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. “Not to say they’re not worth it, but no one ever gives you a manual on what to do. It’s not like potion making or enchanting where I’ve got generations of experts to lean on.”

  Moira nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, they don’t have you apprentice under a parent for years before letting you have a kid, although sometimes I wish they did. Maybe then I’d have an idea of what I’m doing.” She gave a sigh as her eyes took on a far away look. “Some days she’s as tough as cold iron and it’s everything I can do just to get her to brush her teeth. Other days she’s like cooling glass and the slightest change will make her fall all to pieces. I don’t know how my parents did it.”

  “Probably the same way you are.” Joe said, letting go of her hand and retrieving his menu once more. “With a wing and a prayer.”

  Moira gave a laugh before going back to her own menu once more. “‘A wing and a prayer’? What’s that mean?”

  Inwardly Joe cursed himself for once again using an Earth idiom. Thankfully he was becoming adept at off the cuff explanations.

  “It means something like ‘with half of what you need and only the gods to help you’.” He explained, choosing to look at the menu rather than at Moira. Finding a drink that caught his eye he leapt on the chance to change the subject. “The ‘Morning Campfire’ sounds good. I don’t think I’ve seen something like that on Merrie’s menu, why don’t we do some sneaky research for her on local shops to bring back ideas?” Glancing up he was in time to see Moira looking at him with a loving smile on her face. The fact she’d been doing it without him looking at her made it feel all the more genuine and it did funny things to his stomach to see the obvious affection written on her face.

  As he watched it morphed into a more impish grin and she nodded. “Yeah, Merrie’d like that. But once we’re done with our drinks we really need to get back to my parents.” A sentiment that Joe readily agreed to. When Veronica came back she took their orders and asked them where they wanted to go. A few minutes later she returned with their drinks and a folded paper map, route marked out for them. Joe purchased the map and even tried to tip her for all her help, a gesture she wholly refused.

  “It’d be worth my job if the manager saw me taking extra’s from you. Reimbursing me for the map is one thing, but money for just doing my job? That’s what they,” and here she jerked a thumb back towards the building, “pay me for.” Joe had tried to apologize, but she let him know the gesture was appreciated, even if she couldn’t actually take the money.

  <><><>

  “You need to stop doing that.” Moira said as they got underway. “I don’t know who taught you that you needed to give extra money to people but whoever it was did you a disservice.”

  “It’s just that I’ve seen places pay their workers so little that the only way they can survive is off the generosity of the patrons.” Joe muttered, still feeling a bit embarrassed from Veronica’s soft rebuke.

  “Well those people are rotten to the core and should never be allowed to own a business.” Moira said, huffing through her nose in irritation. “What do they expect to get by abusing their staff like that?”

  “More money I think.” Joe answered despite the question likely being rhetorical.

  “Well it’s short sighted and cruel. Now, I don’t pay Gretta as much as she might get elsewhere, but I compensate for that by providing room, board and medical.”

  “Medical? Like if she gets hurt on the job?” Joe asked, more than a little curious if health insurance was something that existed in this world.

  “More than that. I’m also paying for her braces. The poor girl had a tusk that came in crooked and was threatening to pierce her cheek. She’s almost done with them though so I’ll probably increase her pay to make up the difference.”

  Joe watched a small knot of lamia cross the road, their long snake bodies forcing the pedestrians behind them to leave a noticeable empty space in their wakes. “I should provide medical for Becky.” He said absently.

  “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” Moira let go of his hand to consult their map. After a moment she pointed down a road that was little more than an alley. “I think that’s Short street, so we need to turn down there.”

  Joe gave the murky depths of the alley a skeptical look. “Really? Do we have to go down the dark alleyway?”

  “Do you think Veronica would have us use it if it was unsafe?” Moira countered before pushing forward into the gloom caused by the overhanging buildings.

  Joe opened his mouth to protest further, but already knew it was futile. “Fine, but if we get robbed you’re gonna have to be the one to fight them off.”

  Moira looked over her shoulder as he caught up with her and gave him a mock glare. “You’d make poor little me defend a big strong man like you?”

  “Little nothing.” Joe grumped back. He gave Moira’s bicep a squeeze and while there was a layer of softness there, it didn’t take long for him to feel the corded muscles underneath. “Your arms are as big around as my legs.”

  Moira’s response was to flex her arms and shoulders, causing the muscles to stand out. “What can I say? I like working with my hands.”

  “I bet you do.” Joe punctuated his remark with a pair of waggled eyebrows that got him punched in the shoulder. “Ow, hey I’m delicate. You could bruise me.”

  “Cad. If you get a bruise it’s because you deserve it.”

  Joe put his hand to his forehead as if he was about to faint. “I can’t believe my heart was taken by a brute like you.”

  “Oh brute am I?” Moira growled playfully. Before Joe could register what she was doing the shorter woman shoved him backwards and had him pinned to the wall of the alley, teeth bared like she was going to bite him. His breath caught in his throat as her body pressed up into his. On autopilot Joe put his hands on Moira’s generous hips and pulled her further into him, pressing them firmly together.

  His move didn’t go unnoticed by the blacksmith, whose demeanor immediately went from playful domineering to unsure flustered. She tried to step back, but now it was Joe’s turn to hold her in place.

  Moira opened her mouth to say something. Whatever it was never made it out as Joe leaned down and gave her a passionate kiss. Moira’s struggles reversed and she pressed more deeply into Joe’s arms, wrapping hers around his waist and doing her best to merge the two of them together.

  Joe just held on for dear life as his kiss was first tentatively, then fully returned by his blacksmith love. How long they stood in that alley exploring each other Joe wasn’t sure. But when they did eventually come up for air, both panted with something stronger than mere lack of oxygen.

  “We need to go check on Sarah.” Moira sounded reluctant, but firm. Joe shifted his grip from her hips down to her plush posterior and gave it a good squeeze. She leaned into his chest and groaned before shaking her head and pushing off of him. “You quit that Joseph Alderbright.”

  “Quit what?” Joe asked innocently. His own heart was still racing, but he didn’t pursue her more than to take her hand. No means no Joe, she pulled away so that’s the end of it. It’s not like either of us would want to go any further in a dirty alley anyway. He told himself.

  “You know damn well what I mean.” Moira said. Her tone was playful again, but Joe could see something in her eyes, like a scared animal waiting to see if it had stepped into a trap.

  “I do not,” Joe said primly, putting his nose in the air before leading them away down the alley. “And quite frankly I think you’re projecting.”

  Moira snorted, but that scared look in her eye disappeared as they fell back into playful banter. There you go Joe, put her mind at ease. He made sure to keep his hands to himself on the way back, more or less.

  <><><>

  What the two of them found upon their return shocked Joe, but after a moment's thought really didn’t surprise him. Upon entering the house Moira’s parents were nowhere to be seen, but the quiet susurration of distant conversation was enough to lead Moira and him out back to a stucco covered outbuilding that apparently functioned as the retiree’s hobby shop. In it they found Howe leading Sarah through the steps of blowing a small glass bottle while Githa looked on and peeled afflettes. She gave them a nod and smile as they slipped in.

  The little cat girl was doing her best to keep the bubble of glowing glass rotating as her grandfather worked the other end with a wet wooden mold. After a moment he nodded and waved towards the little glass kiln in the corner. “Alright Sweety, pop it back in for a minute or two and we’ll cut it off the blow pipe.”

  Sarah must have caught the movement of their entry from the corner of her eye. Her head snapped around just after they entered and she beamed at her mother. “Mama! I’m helping Grampa Howe make a bottle!” She moved to bring the still glowing glassware over to her mom. As is the way with small children however, this was done without any thought to what was around her, and her grandfather had to make an undignified duck to miss the hot glass that went whizzing by his head.

  “Sarah Fairchild.” Moira barked, causing her daughter to stop in her tracks. “You just about got your grandfather with that. Please be careful and do what he said.”

  The quick rebuke doused the enthusiasm that had been playing in Sarah’s eyes. Wordlessly she went to the kiln and held the unfinished bottle in the flames, turning it to keep the glassware from slumping. From the depths of her peeling corner Githa gave Moira a look that left the blacksmith making furious handgestures at her mother. It wasn’t until they all heard the audible sniff of repressed tears that Moira stepped up behind Sarah and kissed the top of her head. “Baby, I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you know how hot molten glass is and I know you’d feel ten times worse if you’d hit Grandpa Howe with that thing.”

  The sniffing turned into a wail as Sarah turned to throw her arms around her mothers waist. Moira had just enough time to catch the falling blowpipe before it could hit the ground and shatter, sending it’s still glowing payload all over the shop floor. She looked desperately at her father, well and truly pinned to the spot as Sarah cried openly into her stomach.

  He took pity on her, getting up and relieving her of the blowpipe so she could focus on Sarah. While he finished cutting off the little bottle, Githa moved in to assist her daughter with her daughter.

  “It’s ok Sarah,” she soothed as the little catgirl wept into her mother. “No one is mad at you, we all know you were just super excited to show your mom what you and Grandpa were doing. We’re not mad”

  “I-I-I just wanted to show Mamaaa!” wailed the inconsolable six year old.

  “I know honey, you just gotta learn to be safe around the workshop is all. It’s the same thing your mama had to learn when she was your age.” Moira nodded her agreement, although with Sarah’s face buried in her stomach there wasn’t any room for her daughter to see it.

  Joe wanted to move in and help, but the amount of walkable space in the little hobby shop was minimal, so he stood by the door out of the way and watched as Howe first cut a score around the top of the bottle, then gently tapped it until it detached and fell into a bucket of damp cloth. Quickly the glassmaker picked the bottle up with some tongs and set it in a metal cupboard next to the kiln. Joe had just enough time to see the runic work on the back wall of the cupboard before Howe closed it and began putting tools away.

  “We’re all done here Sweety. We’ll come back in a few hours once the bottle is cooled and you can help me cut a stopper for it.” Howe said as he tucked the blowpipe onto an overhead rack containing three others.

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Githa added, with a nod to her husband. “Why don’t you come inside and help me cut up the afflettes for pies Sweety? I just finished a nice little kitchen knife I need someone to test out for me.” While not enough to completely dry Sarah’s tears, the prospect of food and being helpful at least drew her out of the depths of her mothers abdomen and she allowed her grandmother to lead her back into the house.

  “She’s no worse than you were at that age.” Howe commented after the pair had left.

  “I know Dad, but I do remember getting yelled at more than once for doing exactly the same thing.” Moira hooked her arm around her dad’s thin waist and drew him in for a hug which he returned. The whole scene looking to Joe like a willow hugging a boulder, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “Well, what are your plans for the rest of today?” Howe asked when they finally parted. “We were going to go shopping a bit later if you wanted to come.”

  “Actually dad, do you think you and mom could take Sarah with you? I wanted to talk to Joe about some things and it’d be easier if it was just the two of us.” Moira asked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

  If Howe noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead he gave a shrug “I’ve got no problem with it, so long as Sarah and your mom are ok with it too. How long do you want us to be gone?”

  Moira shot Joe a look that reminded him uncomfortably of the alley. “An hour or two would be fine.” Moira said, still looking Joe up and down.