The length of Mariel's stay at Seventh Heaven remained wholly undefined for two months. Mariel herself hadn't decided if she'd stay for the summer and then return to her family during the winter months or take up a permanent position in the Seventh Heaven crew. By the last week of May, however, occasionally helping Tifa with settling guests in rooms became more Mari's responsibility than ever. With the expansion of business considering the newly built inn and refurbished bar, Tifa had to focus more on the financials of her work. She wasn't very experienced at it – neither was Mari or any other adult in the building – and the books caused her a great deal of stress. In short, Mari was happy to take over the happier aspect of greeting customers, signing them in and assuring their comfort. Tifa let her do what she needed to, and before long, Mariel and Marlene were making monthly runs to a cosmetics supplier to stock up on little shampoo packets, soap bars, nail kits and the occasional shower gel.
Tifa's Seventh Heaven Bar and Inn was beginning to thrive. Word had gotten out, Mariel supposed, but she and Tifa liked to think that it was also due, in part, to the unique feel and service of Seventh Heaven. It was run by a family, but not an old one. This family had experienced the hardships of the past years, and knew where people were coming from. The life and sports-talk and drink in the bar up front were kept reasonable by the homey, comfortable if not small rooms for travelers upstairs, behind the bar. The addition of the kitchen and the two-course meal for guests (with her new duties, Mariel found it hard to keep up with three course meals) kept the guest list to mainly families and honest people who tended not to throw up in rooms or demolish property. Of course, Cloud's SOLDIER-eyed, muscled presence was always a plus when things got a little rowdy.
It all came down to comfort, Mariel concluded. Did she feel comfortable enough at Seventh Heaven? Did she feel like family? She often found herself contemplating this at odd moments of the day – during lulls between customers, at night before she fell asleep, or when she took Khan out for exercise in the mornings.
She'd definitely have to bring her horse back to the ranch before the winter cold hit. Seventh Heaven didn't have adequate cold weather lodgings for him, unless Tifa let Mariel bring the stallion in to one of the rooms. Mariel greatly doubted that that would be sanctioned by the inn keeper. Poor Khan, she laughed to herself.
On the bar stool next to hers, Vincent Valentine cocked his head to the side just slightly. She waved away his curiosity. He tilted his chin back and took a sip of his coffee. Mariel followed his example, slurping a little loudly. The door into the bar was open, and beyond it, Mariel heard Tifa talking to Cloud. They were hefting heavy packages of unassembled desks to each of the rooms upstairs. Mariel had helped them carry up the chair packages earlier, but in doing so had missed her morning coffee. She'd decided, upon seeing and testing the weight of the tables, that those with superhuman strength were better suited to finish the job, hence her current station at the bar with Vincent.
She swiveled on her stool.
"Vincent," she said quietly. Vincent shifted and she took her cue to continue. "Do you see yourself as part of the family here?"
Boots clunked over the threshold, and Tifa let out a muffled grunt as she bumped into a booth.
Vincent swirled his coffee, staring down into his mug. Then he shrugged. Mariel pursed her lips as she deciphered his response.
"I don't want to stay unless I do feel that way," she added absently, leaning forward on her elbows. Vincent took another sip of coffee. Cloud's steady, deliberate footsteps neared the bar. Mariel really didn't pay any attention to them until she realized that they'd hesitated right behind her. She looked up from her coffee just as a lovely white flower was placed delicately on the bar in front of her. Mariel watched dumbly as Cloud's gloved hand, which had curved around from behind her, retracted. The hollow thump of his boots was quicker as he made for the stairs. Mariel and Vincent sat in silence as the sound faded.
Then, with the threat of a smirk curling his thin lips, Vincent set his coffee down and dismounted the bar stool.
"There's your answer," he grunted, and disappeared. Mariel picked the flower up gingerly. It looked familiar – like the flowers at Aerith's church. Marlene and Denzel had taken her there the summer before. The place was sacred to Cloud. The woman who had tended those flowers was sacred to Cloud.
Lifting the flower to her nose, Mariel headed for the kitchen. She poured a little lukewarm water into a tall glass and set the flower in it. It would be the first item to grace her new bedside table, which received a healthy amount of sunlight throughout the day. She made her way upstairs slowly, cupping the glass tenderly, watching the little plant sway back and forth against the sides of the makeshift vase.
Did she feel at home in Seventh Heaven? The answer was not, as Vincent had claimed, right in front of her. But it was slowly evolving and taking shape in her mind. It wouldn't be long now. She'd know soon.