Author's Note: This is the second chapter.. Thank you, Mrs. Courtesy, for writing as you did. I had decided, when I started this story, to write something that I am not used to. Though, that promise has already been somewhat fulfilled with the story being a romance, I thought I would further fulfill it by doing a pairing that I am not myself used to. Of course, it might end up one way, it mind end up another, it is based upon whether or not I can make the relationship convincing... who then, do you think, would Mrs. Hawkins be paired with? You must read to find out!
It took little labor for Sarah to forget the issue of the love note; naught more than one night's sleep did the trick. It seemed, at the moment she awoke, early in the morning as usual, her mind was so flooded beneath thoughts toward her work that day that there was no space for even the tiniest bit of concern for it. She had maintained her regular routine without as much as a fleeting consideration for the letter.
She had gotten up from bed, fetched her attire for that day, and had made her way to the dressing screen she had set up in her room. She passed the window indifferently, casting not even a minor acknowledgement toward the envelope that remained on its sill, the red sealing wax and open flap not for a moment drawing her attention. Once she had finished clothing herself properly, she made her way back to her bed, ready to fix it. Her waste bin stared up at her innocently during all this time, but she didn't seem to even take notice of it, but for a few seconds when throwing two used tissues away. Not even her waiter, Anthony Bronson, evoked any remembrances; she waved politely at him and saluted him appropriately as he trudged by her bedroom door, doing nothing more, doing nothing less.
In fact, it seemed that work would be the only thing to be floating through Sarah's mind that morning. Of course, it seemed to make sense; work was a very important part of her life. But, this day, it seemed so overwhelmingly on her mind, that one might suspect it were trying to hide the fact that she'd rather be thinking of something else, perhaps even from Sarah herself. But of course, Mrs. Hawkins could not forever be kept at such a pace. It was about midday when the line of thought that lingered forever on dishwashing and bill-paying took a slight detour.
Sarah was picking up dirty dishes from the window side table when she noticed a small unhappy squeaking. She turned, curious, and saw her son's pet, Morph, floating along the edge of the dining area. Its pace was slow and despondent, its large eyes cast down toward the wooden floorboards, small, hiccupping squeaks popping from its mouth every moment or so.
"Oh, Morph," she muttered beneath her breath, a glimmer of concern taking her worn face. She put the dishes that she had collected in a plastic bin on the counter, and wiped her hands swiftly on her white apron. Sarah made her quick way across the dining room to where the protoplasmic blob floated sadly.
"Morph?" Sarah murmured with all the tenderness of a mother, cupping her hands about the pink creature and bringing it closer. "Morph, are you all right?"
Morph looked up at her, his bulbous eyes blinking uneasily. He repeated back her words in a low, troubled mumble, and slowly floated down onto her curved palms.
Sarah bit her bottom lip in concern. "Is something wrong Morph?" she whispered to it, running a gentle finger over the bends of its gelatinous body. "Are you sick?"
"Sick," Morph echoed convincingly. His eyes closed slowly. "Sick."
"You're sick?" Sarah questioned, furrowing her brow in worry. Jim wouldn't be happy with her if he came back from the Royal Academy to find Morph sick, hoping that that was where the trouble ended. She stroked the morph again, as if trying to reassure it.
"I don't think he's sick," a voice informed her from behind. A large friendly face popped over Sarah's shoulder.
"You think so, Isaac?" Sarah asked, glancing for a moment at the Terran beside her, then back to the ailing morph.
"Looks to me as if Morph misses his master," Isaac said with a nod. He scratched the blob playfully on the back. "Isn't that right, Morphy? You miss your old buddy, Jim?"
Morph, though its eyes half-closed in a lethargic expression, smiled reminiscently. "Old buddy, Jim," it squeaked, floating off of Sarah's hands slightly.
"There you go. See?" Isaac said with a smile. He grinned friendlily at Sarah. "That's what was bothering Morph. You shouldn't worry, Mrs. Hawkins. Everyone misses somebody sometime or another."
"Thank you, Isaac," Sarah said, relieved. She gave Morph a consoling kiss, then placed it gently on one of her assistant's broad shoulders.
Isaac Granger was a pleasant man who was second in rank to Sarah in the business. He was about ten years Sarah's senior, twenty years for Anthony, and had a worn, but obviously friendly face. He was a very caring man, the type that you'd have for a husband, easily, and was unusually agile for his size age. He was also very good with numbers.
"Don't mention it," the man said in response, patting the morph nicely on the head. "It's part of my job."
Sarah laughed. "I don't ever remember putting 'consoling the family pet' on the job description of assistant, Isaac."
"Beats greeting guests," he replied, gesturing over his shoulder at the door, where Mrs. Dunwuddie stood, her normal frown on her face. Sarah gasped mockingly.
"Isaac! That's rude!" she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Especially at Mrs. Dunwuddie; she's an important patron of the Benbow!"
"Also loved her wine a little too much if you ask me," Isaac muttered. He glanced at Sarah, noticing her face, and gave her an embarrassed smile. "Don't tell her I said that."
"I don't know, Isaac," Sarah said, putting a finger to her lips as if in thought. "As I said, she is an important patron... It would be rude not to... especially if you intend to keep on doing it..."
Isaac laughed, putting up his hands before him. "Alright, alright, I give up!" He offered her a large hand. "You win. I won't be rude to Mrs. D."
Sarah took the proffered hand and shook it shortly. "Good. Now, as punishment, I banish you to greeting duty, Mr. Isaac Granger!"
Isaac chuckled kindly. "Yes, your majesty.." And he made his way back to the front, passing by the tentacled woman with a loud apology and a sincere pat. Mrs. Dunwuddie jumped somewhat at the "sorry". She turned to look at Sarah, who did little more than shrug her shoulders, as if she didn't understand herself. With that, Sarah returned to her dish collecting.
Through out the rest of the week, Sarah's window sill remained relatively empty, but for the forgotten envelope. And it was not until an exact seven days after the incident happened did she once again notice it, and then, it had brought about only a small snippet of thought. After all, no new love letters had unearthed themselves for a long time.
It was probably a prank anyway, Sarah thought as she deposited the envelope into the trash. She frowned quietly. How rude.
The day was once again one of hard work, and Sarah found herself trudging tiredly upstairs at the end of it. The more business they got, the more exhausted Sarah became, it seemed. Ah well... she had good help, and beside, better business was a good thing.
She sighed, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. Her bed would be waiting for her upstairs, more welcome than it had been for the whole week... she smiled at the thought. She almost considered going to sleep without even changing into her bed clothes...
"Oh dear lord, not another one!"
Ms. Hawkins stood, her nightdress draped over one arm, before the sill of the window, staring in shock at a letter that had found its way upon it. It bore the same seal that the first had, and it was the same type of freakishly pristine envelope.
She hung her gown atop the dressing screen, and immediately went to pick up the letter. She was too tired to be frightened, and was feeling more than a little irritation at having to deal with something like another silly love note.
"What do you have to say now, you prankster?" Sarah growled, addressing whomever had yet again pushed the note through the other side of the window. She ripped open the top of the envelope impatiently and pulled out the letter.
It was another poem, and yet again written in barely legible cursive. She glanced over it, ready to call for Anthony were she unable to understand again.
So long ago I noted you afar,
Across a room's long width your face did shine,
And instantly your heart became the par
Of any want my heart before designed.
So hear you now of love before now hid,
And yours I wish to meet now with my own,
For this affection never will I rid,
And destiny now rules my heart alone
Reveal to me the secrets of your heart,
Whose beats I long have fancied hearing near,
One word you say might tear my life apart,
But three words different might delight mine ear.
And so again I ask for your own thought,
Do you, my dear, love me or love me not?
"Well...That was a lot easier for me to read than the other one," she admitted to no one in particular, rereading the letter quietly. The style hadn't been too fashioned after the old... at least she was able to comprehend its basic meaning... Once again, it was sweet, and, she admitted, well-written if not a little corny. She held onto it for a moment, before shaking her head wearily.
"I hope this prank doesn't go too far," she muttered, standing. She put the letter back into its envelope, put it back onto the sill, and went to dress herself. She was tired.
In the end, the letter and envelope found the same home as the first had before she had even settled down to sleep.
A/N: And that is the end of chapter two. I was not very pleased with my writing style in this chapter; I have some difficulties in portraying the characters properly... but it was fine. Tell me what you think! Review please... it's the only way I know that, maybe, my story is worth my time.