A/N: Thank you to GranthamGal for the title suggestion! I probably would not have been able to come up with that on my own!

March 1925

"You didn't need to meet us here, Mrs. Levinson." Tom clutched his daughter in his arms to keep her from being trampled in the melee at the dock. The ship they'd been on for days loomed behind them, first class passengers still disembarking, their clothing rich with fur ruffled in the breeze from Boston Bay.

Martha made a dismissive motion with her hand. "Nonsense. I couldn't let you arrive without someone to welcome you to America." Before Tom could answer this, she bent her head closer to Sybbie, peering at her. "Do you remember me? I'm your great-grandma, young lady."

Tilting her head, Sybbie's face reflected a deep concentration before she shook it decisively. "No, Granny is over the ocean."

Tom's next words were lost in Martha's laughter. "Well, Miss Sybbie, I'm sure your daddy told you that you have two great-grandmas, didn't he?" She lifted an eyebrow to Tom, a grin still playing on her lips.

"Certainly I did, Mrs. Levinson." He turned to Sybbie. "Don't you remember, darling? Your grandmama's mother? You've seen her picture many times."

Within a few seconds, Sybbie's face cleared, a smile appearing. She nodded, hugging the teddy that her great-aunt Rosamund had given her. "Grandmama gave us a letter to send you."

"Well, now you don't have to send it, do you? Since I'm right here?" She chuckled, signaling to the stevedores. Getting one's attention, she surreptitiously passed a crinkled couple of bills to him, telling him to make sure the bags for Branson were unloaded as soon as possible and placed in her car. When Tom tried to object, Martha rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him again. "Pffft, stop that now. I'm going to see to it that you and my great-granddaughter are settled comfortably as soon as possible." Seeing Tom's mouth open again, she shot him a look. "I wouldn't argue with me. Didn't Cora tell you that?" Chuckling, she turned again to Sybbie, pinching the teddy's cheek. "So what shall you call me, little miss?

Tom smiled, recognizing the futility of arguing with someone as stubborn as Martha. And, really, he was grateful. He'd wondered how he'd be able to get Sybbie settled while getting used to the new city himself. But having Martha here gave him an immense sense of relief, despite being used to fighting for things on his own. He knew that Martha wanted to help, that she'd loved Sybil very much and found Tom amusing. And she wanted to get to know Sybbie. Tom swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Sybbie answer Martha's questions, the realization hitting him that Martha hadn't gotten to watch her granddaughters grow up in the same way Violet had. She'd missed a lot, and it occurred to Tom that Martha might not want to miss as much with Sybil's daughter, since she had this opportunity.

Seeing that the luggage was being stowed safely in the trunk, Martha slipped one of her arms through Tom's, nudging him forward to the car. Once he'd set Sybbie down on the seat, he offered Martha a hand to help her into the back seat, the driver busy dealing with the stevedores. She took his hand, but paused, saying in a soft voice, "She's the very picture of our sweet Sybil, isn't she?"

His breath catching, Tom blinked, her comment taking him slightly off guard and causing him to well up. "She is. Sometimes it overwhelms me, Mrs. Levinson."

With a little nod, Martha let him hand her in. Then she looked up. "Don't call me Mrs. Levinson, Tom. Martha will do me just fine."

When she smiled, Tom found himself returning it. We're going to get along just fine, he thought before getting into the car and shutting the three of them into the backseat together. Just fine.

As they stood in the lodgings that Kieran had secured for his brother and niece – two small rooms in a boarding house close to the garage – Tom wondered how on earth Martha had convinced him to let her come up. In the plain rooms, the woman looked like an other-worldly bejeweled bird.

"Well, it's clean." Martha nodded her head in approval after she'd taken a look through both rooms.

"I told Kieran that was my main concern. I don't mind living in a small place, and it's something that will be good for Sybbie to learn, but I like to come home to a clean place, as I am working with grease and oil all day." Tom held his had in one hand and Sybbie's hand in the other.

Nodding again, Martha sat in the one armchair in the main room. Nearly threadbare, the chair had obviously been cleaned regularly. "The woman who rents out the rooms –"

"Mrs. O'Shaughnessy," Tom supplied.

"Yes – she evidently takes pride in her house and taking care of it. It's a good sign, Tom. Your brother did well." Martha gestured around the room.

Tom smiled. "Why, thank you, Martha. Sometimes he does surprise me." He chuckled and set his hat down finally, freeing Sybbie's hand. She went to a travel bag and fished out an envelope.

"Grandmama's letter for you, Gran." Sybbie trotted over to Martha and placed the letter in her hands.

"Thank you, young lady." Without reading the letter – she wanted to save it for a later time – she tucked it into her handbag, then clapped her hands, rubbing them together. "Now, Miss Sybbie, I think we need to take you shopping for some clothes, don't you?"

Here Tom stepped toward her, interjecting. "Now, Mrs. Levinson – " When her eyebrows shot up, he amended, "Martha. Sybbie has clothes. They're probably fancier than any of the children living around us have. And I won't have her being showy."

Martha let out an impatient puff of breath. "Young man, you misunderstand me. You've been outside today – but not for very long. If this child is going to be outside for any length of time in New England in the winter months, she needs the proper clothes. I know it doesn't seem much colder than in Yorkshire, but with the wind off the Bay…. At least let me get her a sturdier coat and some thicker stockings, Tom."

This appeal to reason rather than her simply barreling toward her goal no matter what he thought surprised him. He blinked at her a few times. "Well, yes, I suppose we do need those things. But I should buy them."

Already shaking her head at his last words, Martha stood. "I want to do this, Tom. I am her great-grandmother, and I have never gotten an opportunity to spoil her properly."

Their eyes remained locked in a battle of stubbornness, until Tom glanced away, sighing softly. "Alright, Martha." When Martha smiled and told Sybbie to get her coat, that they were going on an outing together, just the pair of them, he put a hand gently on Martha's arm. "Just don't actually spoil her, please?"

Martha simply laughed and took Sybbie by the hand to take the girl shopping.

Several hours later, Tom opened the door to a man bearing several packages. Recognizing Martha's driver, he stepped aside to let him in. Martha and Sybbie followed behind, Sybbie's hand firmly enclosed in Martha's.

There were far fewer packages than Tom had expected. So that was well enough. Once they'd been sat down, Martha waved a hand to dismiss the driver, then she and Sybbie started to open the bundles.

"I hope you approve, Tom. We didn't go crazy, I promise." Winking at him, she pulled three pairs of sturdy stockings in darker hues and three more in lighter ones.

Tom moved closer to examine the items as they pulled them from their wrappings. Sybbie revealed a pair of red mittens, a pair of warm-looking white knit gloves, and a pair of grey knit gloves. Two cream-colored flannel chemises peeked out of another box, and a red scarf and a grey one and hats to match nearly fell to the floor in Sybbie's excitement to show them to her father. When they'd reached the next to last box – also the second largest box – Sybbie hopped from one foot to the other with her hands clasped while Martha lifted out a wool, plaid coat, largely grey with red, white, and black woven into the pattern. Tom examined the coat along with all the rest of the garments, smiling when Sybbie put on the coat and the red hat to model them.

"Well, Martha, I have to say I'm quite pleased." While they had nothing flashy or too elegant about them, the clothes were well-made with good materials. Plain but hard-wearing, warm clothes. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, young man." Martha chuckled, dragging the last box a bit closer to her. "I know you'll probably frown at me, but…." Removing the lid, she disclosed a man's coat, a very fine wool, in rich cocoa brown.

Brows forming a deep furrow, Tom shook his head. "I have a perfectly good coat –"

Martha cut him off with gesture of her hand. "Now hear me out. You said yourself that you get dirty when you work on the cars, right?" At his slight nod, she continued, "So you'll have one coat for going to and from work and a second for other occasions. Say Sunday Mass. Or dinner out."

Finding himself half grinning, Tom said, "I don't see dinners out much, Martha. But you make a good case for Sunday Mass. I suppose you won't take no for an answer –"

"Not a chance. I know it seems extravagant perhaps to have two coats – at least when you aren't at Downton –" Tom's sudden burst of laughter made her smile. "But please let me do this for you."

After a moment or two, Tom relented. He even tried on the coat to make sure it fit.

"Alright, now. I'm off to settle myself in my hotel for the night. I'll leave you to finish unpacking and get to know your neighborhood a little. But I'm coming back tomorrow to take you both around town for a bit."

Tom's mouth opened and closed a few times. "But haven't you done enough for us already?"

"Nonsense, Tom. I know Boston fairly well, and you don't. I should show you around at least some." Martha started toward the door, Sybbie trailing behind her.

"As long as it's no trouble, then." He nodded at her. "We'd be grateful for the help."

"Good. It's settled then." Martha leaned down to give her great-granddaughter a hug and kiss. "You be good for your daddy, Sybbie."

"Yes, Gran!" Sybbie chirped.

"And I'm taking you both out for dinner tomorrow night as well. No buts," she added, seeing Tom's lips part. "Have a good evening, dears! Welcome to America!"

Tom couldn't help but chuckle. It had been quite a welcome indeed.