A/N: Thanks to everyone who helps keep the fandom alive. May you have wine and roses forever!
DAY OF WINE AND ROSES
by
Owlcroft
The two men met at the truck, each carrying something.
"You wore a tie?" asked Hardcastle, gesturing at the younger man. "I figured a sport coat was enough."
Mark looked down at the item in question. "Ah, I thought she'd appreciate it. You know, a little more spiffed up. It's the first time she's had us over, y' know."
The judge shrugged, carefully not jostling the bottle of wine he had cradled in his right arm. "Yeah, maybe I should . . ."
"Nah," McCormick waved him back toward the truck. "You look okay. Didi'd probably faint if you showed up in a tie."
Hardcastle tossed him a half-hearted glare, then jerked his chin at the burlap-wrapped item Mark was gently placing on the floorboards. "What's that?" He handed over the wine and circled the front of the truck to the driver's side door.
"A little house-warming present." Mark inspected the label of the bottle before climbing up and stationing his feet to either side of his own offering. "Will this go with what she's cooking?" He fastened his seat belt and tried to find a comfortable, yet safe, position for the bottle.
"Oh, yeah. She said steak au poivre." The judge turned the ignition key and put the truck in gear. "That's steak in a kinda creamy pepper sauce, so that --" he jerked a thumb at the bottle, which McCormick had decided to just hold onto, "oughta be perfect."
As they exited the drive and turned right, Hardcastle asked again, "So whatcha got there? I'm guessing some kinda plant 'cause of the wrapping. Didi'll love that. She's already real excited about having a garden again."
Mark nodded. "Yep. She told me all about the separate herb section she's putting in. And something about a 'knot garden' that I didn't really get."
A short silence fell, broken when the judge asked a third time, "Well? What is it? A shrub of some sort, a baby tree, what?"
"It's . . . it's a rose cutting." McCormick shifted uncomfortably. "From one of your bushes."
A raised eyebrow was the only response, but it was enough to provoke an additional outpouring of information.
"The Lydia. When she was staying with us, she came out and did some pruning one day and we got to talking about the roses. Didi said the Lydia was your wife's favorite and that their mother put most of the roses in herself. They were something special to the whole family." He adjusted his shoulder belt a trifle. "So I figured she might want a rose bush from her mother's garden. You know, sort of a . . . link to the family or something." He paused, then asked, "You think that's dumb?"
Hardcastle snorted. "'Course it's not dumb. It's a real nice thing to do. Real thoughtful."
"You think so?" The fidgeting stopped. "I wanted to take something that . . . I dunno, would mean something to her. She's a real classy lady, Judge."
"Hmph." Hardcastle slowed a bit for traffic, then added, "Yeah, I guess she is. All my wife's family was pretty classy, come to that."
McCormick grinned at him. "So you just didn't fit in at all, didja." He nestled the wine bottle a little closer. "I'm gonna tell her the rose is from both of us. It's your bush after all. Is that okay?"
Flicking on his turn signal, the judge nodded and answered. "Yeah, sure. It's okay with me, but you oughta take more of the credit for it. You thought of it." Barely audible under the noise of the traffic, he muttered, "Seems to me I know a lotta classy people."
finis
