was
softer and groggy. His sibilants were slurring badly.
“Yes—six to eight weeks.” I poured some milk into the cup.
“Not that it will matter if Chuck doesn’t get back in time.”
“He’ll be here. Of course, I was late to my wedding,” Horace
said. “Had a flat tire and ruined my suit fixing it. Had to
borrow clean clothes from a friend. Suit didn’t fit. Had
to tie up the pants with a borrowed belt. People had started to leave
the church, even the preacher. My wife was so mad she almost didn’t marry me.”
I really hoped that this wouldn’t be a case of like father,
like son.
“Oh no! I can just imagine how she
was feeling.” And I could imagine it all too clearly. “But she forgave you and
you got married anyway?”
Horace answered with a loud snuffle. He was asleep.
I slipped his shoes off and then sat down at the table and
drank his chocolate myself. Max sighed loudly and went back to the fire. I
resigned myself to having a snoring houseguest for the night.
* * *
Flowers. The Wings could think of
nothing else now that the wedding was near. Ever since he’d stormed in on the
ladies’ town hall meeting to discuss who was doing what about the wedding
preparations. He had stormed into the room and declared, “I’m doing the
flowers,” then turned and stormed back out again. Why oh why had he done so much storming? he wondered now. It really wasn’t like him.
Since then, his idea to gather local wildflowers and use
them to decorate the wedding scene was not panning out as he had hoped. He’d
been excited with the project when he overheard a private conversation between
Butterscotch and the Flowers regarding the wedding flowers. It had seemed such
a nice and easy gift to give Butterscotch and the Mountie.
“I think we should decorate using carnations,” the Flowers
suggested, not sounding very excited about the prospect. “They’re cheap and we
can get them wholesale.”
“I suppose,” Butterscotch said unenthusiastically. “Though I’ve always loved orchids for weddings. They are so
exquisitely perfect,” she continued, positively lighting up at the mere mention
of the flower.
That was all it took. The Wings was smitten with the idea
the moment he’d heard Butterscotch utter the flower’s name. Orchid . He remembered his mother
telling him one day when he was young that she’d never had the flowers at her
wedding that she would have wished had there been time to properly plan the
finances to support a lavish wedding. She had always said that orchids were her
favorite flowers—and there had never been any money for them, not at her
wedding. Not even at her funeral when he was ten.
Well, this lady shall
have her orchids , the Wings promised himself.
Supposing orchids to be some form of local flower that he
could easily harvest and supply to the ladies to arrange, the Wings began the
project with gusto. It started with storming into and out of the ladies’ town meeting.
It was supposed to conclude soon afterward with the Wings lugging sack after
sack full of orchids out of the forest and into town.
But after several hours spent gathering the typical local
wildflowers that he was pretty sure were not orchids, he was beginning to
despair. Where were all the orchids—and what did an orchid look like anyway? He
had only the vaguest idea. Surely, it couldn’t be that liver-colored thing that
smelled so bad.
The Wings removed a tick from his arm and gave up his
search, deciding to visit the Flowers to find out what an orchid looked like
and where they were hiding. If anyone knew anything about orchids, it would be
the Flowers. Heck, she even owned a small library of books. She might be able
to show him a picture of the flower.
An itchy Wings found the Flowers in
the Lonesome Moose wiping down tables. She seemed stressed. Either that or she
was frantic to get a real nice shine on the table she was presently working on.
This was most likely due to the added
softer and groggy. His sibilants were slurring badly.
“Yes—six to eight weeks.” I poured some milk into the cup.
“Not that it will matter if Chuck doesn’t get back in time.”
“He’ll be here. Of course, I was late to my wedding,” Horace
said. “Had a flat tire and ruined my suit fixing it. Had to
borrow clean clothes from a friend. Suit didn’t fit. Had
to tie up the pants with a borrowed belt. People had started to leave
the church, even the preacher. My wife was so mad she almost didn’t marry me.”
I really hoped that this wouldn’t be a case of like father,
like son.
“Oh no! I can just imagine how she
was feeling.” And I could imagine it all too clearly. “But she forgave you and
you got married anyway?”
Horace answered with a loud snuffle. He was asleep.
I slipped his shoes off and then sat down at the table and
drank his chocolate myself. Max sighed loudly and went back to the fire. I
resigned myself to having a snoring houseguest for the night.
* * *
Flowers. The Wings could think of
nothing else now that the wedding was near. Ever since he’d stormed in on the
ladies’ town hall meeting to discuss who was doing what about the wedding
preparations. He had stormed into the room and declared, “I’m doing the
flowers,” then turned and stormed back out again. Why oh why had he done so much storming? he wondered now. It really wasn’t like him.
Since then, his idea to gather local wildflowers and use
them to decorate the wedding scene was not panning out as he had hoped. He’d
been excited with the project when he overheard a private conversation between
Butterscotch and the Flowers regarding the wedding flowers. It had seemed such
a nice and easy gift to give Butterscotch and the Mountie.
“I think we should decorate using carnations,” the Flowers
suggested, not sounding very excited about the prospect. “They’re cheap and we
can get them wholesale.”
“I suppose,” Butterscotch said unenthusiastically. “Though I’ve always loved orchids for weddings. They are so
exquisitely perfect,” she continued, positively lighting up at the mere mention
of the flower.
That was all it took. The Wings was smitten with the idea
the moment he’d heard Butterscotch utter the flower’s name. Orchid . He remembered his mother
telling him one day when he was young that she’d never had the flowers at her
wedding that she would have wished had there been time to properly plan the
finances to support a lavish wedding. She had always said that orchids were her
favorite flowers—and there had never been any money for them, not at her
wedding. Not even at her funeral when he was ten.
Well, this lady shall
have her orchids , the Wings promised himself.
Supposing orchids to be some form of local flower that he
could easily harvest and supply to the ladies to arrange, the Wings began the
project with gusto. It started with storming into and out of the ladies’ town meeting.
It was supposed to conclude soon afterward with the Wings lugging sack after
sack full of orchids out of the forest and into town.
But after several hours spent gathering the typical local
wildflowers that he was pretty sure were not orchids, he was beginning to
despair. Where were all the orchids—and what did an orchid look like anyway? He
had only the vaguest idea. Surely, it couldn’t be that liver-colored thing that
smelled so bad.
The Wings removed a tick from his arm and gave up his
search, deciding to visit the Flowers to find out what an orchid looked like
and where they were hiding. If anyone knew anything about orchids, it would be
the Flowers. Heck, she even owned a small library of books. She might be able
to show him a picture of the flower.
An itchy Wings found the Flowers in
the Lonesome Moose wiping down tables. She seemed stressed. Either that or she
was frantic to get a real nice shine on the table she was presently working on.
This was most likely due to the added
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