Vaughn walked into the restaurant and scowled. He didn't like the city very much at all. The flashing lights, the constant noise, and all of the people bustling from one place to the next. Still, a job was a job, and to even have work during winter was a blessing. Work slowed down for him in the ranches during winter, because it was considered too risky to move cows and sheep across sea in such cold temperatures. His need for money drove him to take a job transporting abandoned pets to a rescue shelter in the city. He glared at anyone on the street who gave him a funny look, which was frequent because city-goers weren't used to seeing cowboy attire. One woman even asked him if it was a costume; that was annoying. It was almost enough to make him miss Sunny Island. Almost.

He strode over to a small table at the corner of the restaurant where few people were sitting. He had asked his employer if she knew of any quiet places to eat. She had recommended this one to him. She said mostly people of upper-class ate here (as it was so expensive), so it wasn't often very crowded. He was surprised when she paid him the extra he would need to be able to afford it, but she said it was her way of thanking him for taking such a long trip off his usual route. He thanked her and left to find the place.

A waiter soon arrived to take his order. It was an Italian-style restaurant, so he ordered spaghetti and a glass of milk. The waiter smirked a bit at the latter, but left to have it prepared when Vaughn scowled at him. He leaned back in his chair and observed his surroundings. It was quiet for a Saturday night, a day he knew many city folk would take to go out to dinner or some sort of entertainment. What a bunch of lazy people, he thought to himself. There were a couple of families having diner together. Most of them were sitting by tables next to the window, looking out at the people walking along the street as they talked with each other. They were all very richly dressed. The men wore expensive suits, the women in elegant dresses. In the center of the restaurant was another woman sitting alone at a small table for two. He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

It was Chelsea. He hadn't recognized her at first because she wasn't wearing her usual blue jeans, yellow shirt and orange vest. In fact, he still wasn't sure if it was her. He finally decided that it must be, because he recognized her blue eyes and the way her bangs framed her face. The rest of her hair was tied back in a braided bun, along with black pearl earrings that hung down. The dress surprised him the most. She was wearing a long black dress that crisscrossed in the front that turned into a soft, fluid skirt as it went down. The dress had a single shoulder strap with a wisp of fabric that flowed down the back. Never in his wildest dreams (not that she ever entered his dreams) did he imagine her in such elegant clothing. He had always pictured her as a happy tomboy all too eager to play in the dirt with her crops and tend her animals in the pasture. This thought made him realize something else about her that was different; he had never seen her so depressed.

She was resting her head on her left hand as she traced her water glass with the index finger of the right. She gave out a long sigh and just looked miserably at the glass. Vaughn wondered what she could be doing in a place like this. He had heard that she had gone to the city on urgent business, leaving her animals in the temporary care of Mirabelle. She was always around to bother him with a hello or to deliver him milk from her farm, so he was surprised when he didn't see her on Wednesday. When he asked Mirabelle about it, she had told him about Chelsea's hasty departure, saying that she would be back by next week. Mirabelle also had a chocolate bar wrapped in a red ribbon behind the counter for him from Chelsea, who had asked to have it passed on in her absence. The actual day for Winter Thanksgiving was yesterday, two days after he received his gift, nonetheless he blushed and pulled his hat down over his eyes at the memory.

Suddenly Chelsea rose from her seat to greet someone coming towards her table. The woman approached her and they shook hands in a cool greeting. Chelsea seemed tense in the greeting, but the woman was nothing short of condescending. He decided that it must be Chelsea's mother. She had the same color hair as Chelsea, tied back in a bun so tight it looked as if it never hung down. Unlike Chelsea's eyes, hers were sharp and narrow, as if she looked at the world just to find things wrong with it. She was a slim woman with a skeletal appearance, her skin tightly stretched across her face. She was just as extravagantly dressed as Chelsea, if not more. She wore a black strapless dress that was slim and long, and a diamond necklace that spread from the neck to the top of the dress in a triangle of individual pieces woven together with silver.

They sat down at the table, and Vaughn couldn't help noticing the waiter trip over himself to take her order as quickly as possible. Vaughn smirked to himself; she must be a frequent and very well paying customer, and certainly not a woman who enjoyed waiting. The two began talking to each other. Even from the distance he was at, Vaughn could tell there was a lot of tension between the two. Chelsea seemed to be getting some sort of lecture from her mother that she had heard a hundred times before.

Before long Chelsea seemed to be tired of what she was hearing and put her forehead in her hand and shut her eyes tightly. The pained look on Chelsea's face made Vaughn act before he himself knew what he was doing. He got up from his table and strode over to them. They must have heard his boots on the floor, because they both looked up at him. The older woman gave him a very calculating look, but Chelsea's eyes widened in horror. Her lips quivered and he could see her silently mouth "Vaughn..." to herself.

She quickly recovered and straightened up. She addressed her mother with her eyes still on Vaughn. "Mother... this is Vaughn. He's—."

"I'm an animal trader for Sunny Island." Vaughn held out his hand to her. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Chelsea's mother took his hand and shook it lightly, her narrowed eyes never leaving his. "A pleasure, I'm sure. As I'm sure my daughter has never mentioned me, I am Clarice Veronica de Rougue." Vaughn recognized the last name as the name of Chelsea's ranch. "And just how are you 'acquainted' with my daughter?" Chelsea bit her lip.

"She owns a ranch, and buys supplies from the shop I work for. We see each other on occasion." Vaughn said, unperturbed by the woman's cold greeting towards him.

"So Vaughn is it? What brings you to the city? You clearly look like you would be more comfortable in a rural setting," Clarice sneered. Chelsea shot her mother a dark look, another expression Vaughn had never seen on her.

"Work," Vaughn replied shortly. This scowl he did not have to force.

"I see. As intriguing as that is, I do believe I have lost my appetite for the evening, so I will take my leave. I'm sure you two have much to discuss. Chelsea," she said sharply to her daughter. "When you are done here you are to meet me in the hospital to visit your father. We still have much to discuss, as well." Without waiting for a reply she glided out of the restaurant, roughly taking her coat from the attendant waiting at the door, leaving Vaughn and Chelsea alone.