Claire rubbed her sleepy eyes, stumbling a bit as she walked across the creaky floorboards. The sun had yet to rise, and a dim light was beginning to peek through the gap in her curtains, limiting her vision to several dull shades of gray.

A small part of her had toyed with the idea of resting her eyes for another few minutes, but she knew how dangerous that game could be. She had pulled herself out of bed, as closing her eyes sounded more and more inviting. The house was silent, but the earliest birds were beginning their morning songs outside. It was a far cry from the constant light pollution and soft din of the city in the early morning, but as she poured herself a glass of water, she couldn't help but feel the same solemn stillness before a hard day of work she had grown so accustomed to then. Her stomach twisted in anticipation of the busy day ahead, and it wasn't unlike those quiet mornings in the city while she struggled to contain her trembling nerves on the bus to work.

It hasn't even been that long, has it? I wonder if they were able to finish those reports without me… How are they getting along?

She sat down cross-legged at her table and found herself reliving the memory. It had been so ingrained into her that she wasn't soon to forget. Those long hours as she became lost in the repetitive work – she could still remember the way her chair used to squeak at the front desk when she rotated her seat.

If she had allowed herself to become aware of how uncomfortable her office chair was, she would have had trouble focusing. She sat on the edge of her seat, craned over her desk; perhaps the discomfort had been due to poor posture more than anything else. The numbers blurred before her eyes, her right hand moving automatically across the adding machine, the clicks and cranks her daily soundtrack.

Type. Verify. Correct? Yes.

Type. Verify. Correct? Yes.

It was typically nerve-wracking work. While it was overall a simple task, she had to be focused and accurate with the numbers, and the frequent calls at the front desk where she worked startled her and made concentrating difficult. Claire allowed the rhythm to put her in a trance as she blinked her exhausted eyes. There was a slight lull in calls, and she needed to take full advantage of this. The young woman felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and stiffened. She let out a tiny squeak as the pen wedged between her fingers tumbled to the floor, but she made no motion to retrieve it.

He was always laughing, and his chuckle caused her to jump a bit in her chair, earning one last amused snort. "There's our little go-getter. Claire, I can expect these reports to be complete by tomorrow morning, yes?" His voice was always friendly but had a resounding authority to it.

"O-Of course, Mr. Frederick." She bit back a sigh, her dreams of eating microwave pizza and watching My Dear Princess that evening dashed. Not that it was that luxurious of a plan to begin with…

"You're always so formal," he chuckled, slapping down the heap of files on her desk. Claire's eyes widened; he hadn't said anything about this new stack. Papers threatened to flutter out, and Claire lurched forward to catch them before they fell. He smirked as he watched her silky blonde locks fall into her face. "I've told you before, you can call me Len." He leaned over her desk to straighten the files and brushed his hand accidentally against hers.

He was kind enough, but his touch always made her skin crawl. She had no intention of being his friend. "I'll have the reports done." She didn't mean for her voice to sound so cold.

He let out an amused laugh. "Atta girl! We could use more hard workers like you!" He gave her a hearty thump on the back as he returned to his office, another employee quickly following him with a pressing question.

Claire's stomach sank as she stared at the pile of paperwork. It wasn't about missing what the Demon Lord on My Dear Princess was planning this week – it was the seemingly inescapable mountain of work she could scarcely handle digging herself out of. Out of fear for losing her additional hours and responsibilities, she had tried to be as agreeable as possible. She had honestly thought it was the only way forward for a long time. After all, she was "just beginning her climb up the corporate ladder", as her parents had put it. They had also said with a laugh that "no one likes who they work for".

Her thoughts moved back to the present as Claire stood up and stretched, looking outside her window at the sun slowly rising on the horizon, illuminating her fields.

No, this is completely different. I let myself get overwhelmed, but it was my own doing. I'm in charge now, right?

Turning toward the pile of folded laundry on the floor beside her bed, she set to dressing for the day. It was sure to be a busy one. It wouldn't be long until she got to share breakfast with one of her favorite people, she realized with a sudden heart throb and silly grin.

"Do you really think we can have it done so soon?" Claire asked hesitantly.

Popuri hoisted herself over the fence joining the two farms and dropped her basket onto the ground before she landed. "Oh, no, we'll be fine. Rick said it won't take long, and Mom insisted that we bring along Zack to help. It was kind of funny, really. Rick made a big stink about it, saying that we didn't need to bother him with this."

"And we don't!" Rick huffed, pushing a wheelbarrow. "We should have it done by the end of the week."

Claire still couldn't help but give the two siblings a skeptical look. She had a feeling they didn't realize the sheer amount of corn they had purchased. While they had seen it growing, she wondered if they realized how many ears were on each stalk. She had planted a ridiculous amount the second day of the season, and in hopes of pleasing Gray, she had planted even more. The result was comical; Claire was going to have a stash of dried corn for chicken feed to last her for a very long time.

Even Cliff had volunteered to take a day off of fishing and tracking in the woods services as he promised. She looked around at the group of harvesters once more when she was startled by a sharp beep. It was Zack's cart as he backed into the entrance of Mystic Acres. He looked over his muscular shoulder and shot Claire a grin. "Mornin'!" he called over the rumbling of the engine.

The farmer giggled and gave him a shy thumbs-up. The two had been working together for the past couple of seasons, and she was grateful that Zack always came prepared. Despite his friendly mannerisms, he had a very commanding presence and Claire hoped to learn from him. Cliff looked back and forth between the two, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was the day of the great corn harvest. Or, as Cliff had put it at breakfast, the a-maize-ing harvest. Claire had said she was all ears for less corny suggestions, and before Cliff could think of a quip in reply, she pulled him by the wrist outside before no work got done at all that day. Claire had suggested she help harvest the corn for a day because there was so much of it, but Popuri had refused right away, reminding her that the original agreement was for her and Rick to handle it. At the sight of the cart, Popuri's eyes widened; it was starting to sink in just how much corn they were to harvest that day.

Zack stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. "I reckon between the five of us we should be able to knock this out by end of the day. Half the corn, right?"

Popuri was eager to accept the assistance now, and she let out a soft giggle at the surprise on her brother's face, who was looking back and forth between the cart and his own wheelbarrow. "Maybe it's best we let them help. I've been watching these two work, Rick. They're like machines. Claire zooms down those rows of tomatoes, and Cliff's always dropping off hauls of herbs in the shipping bin."

The farmer wasn't sure whether to feel proud or flustered at her words. Her eyes scanned the fields and she realized with satisfaction that it wouldn't be much longer until all of the tomatoes were harvested, and she wouldn't have been able to do it without Rick's ingenious invention and the food Cliff had provided her. There was a beat of silence between the Cliff and Claire as their eyes met. He gave her a fond smile before pulling on his gloves, his cheeks rosy as his eyes moved out toward the field. Claire looked out at the corn stalks as well, oblivious to Popuri's curious garnet eyes flicking back and forth between the two.

They took a methodical approach. Each person took a burlap sack of their own and set to filling it and adding it to the nearby wheelbarrows. Zack's portable radio was hanging from the handle of one wheelbarrow, playing oldies music for ambiance.

Claire realized with a bit of excitement that she was essentially the leader of this operation. It was time to prove herself; she could oversee a project. "Please be sure to twist the ears off the plants instead of tugging," she advised. Her voice squeaked and was barely audible as she shyly ducked her head, afraid someone might think of her as bossy, or worse, make someone feel singled out. She was most concerned about making Zack uncomfortable. He was in his late thirties, significantly older than the rest of them, and she wanted to prove that there was a good reason he continued to work with her. She cautiously looked up and everyone was hard at work filling their bags. Rick and Zack had already started working with a fluid rhythm, and Popuri was humming and bobbing her head along to the music as she filled her bag. Cliff, who was working by Claire's side, gently nudged her shoulder with his, giving her a playful but reassuring smile. A grin found its way back on her face as she dug into her work.

"Your turn, Rick!" Popuri chirped.

He shuffled the ears of corn in his bag and went right back to filling it once more. "How about… corn chowder?"

"Corn salsa," Zack contributed without missing a beat. He had obviously been holding onto this answer while others were coming up with theirs.

Cliff paused for a moment and quickly picked up his pace, remembering their discussion was a way to keep working, not a break from it. "How about…" He twisted off an ear of corn with a loud snap. "Corn tortillas?"

Popuri made a buzzer noise. "We already said that! Try again!" she giggled, eager to be the host of the game.

Again, Cliff fought the urge to stop and think. "Ah… corn…" His pace slowed down as he thought. "Corn bread!" he exclaimed triumphantly, earning a wave of approval and chuckles at his enthusiasm. He turned toward his friend. "Claire?"

Her heart swelled as he said her name. She was grateful she had been thinking of an answer of her own while he was lost in thought. "Polenta." She smirked, getting ooohs and aaaahs at her creativity.

"Must be that cosmopolitan big-city lifestyle," Zack replied with a grin, and Claire was only then aware of the drawl in his voice. It wasn't a Mineral Town accent, though.

"How about candy corn?" A soft, feminine voice caught them all by surprise.

"Mom, that's not actual corn!" Rick shook his head with a laugh. He froze and nearly dropped his bag in shock. "Hey, what are you doing all the way out here?"

"Oh, it's only next door! Besides, I thought you all could use a pick-me-up." Lillia gave them a gentle wave as she approached them. Her eyes traveled across the cart, which was heavily loaded with sacks of corn.

Both siblings perked up to attention. Popuri quickly relieved her of the basket and thermos she was carrying and Rick offered her his arm.

"Are you sure you feel alright leaving the house, Mom? How are you feeling?"

She let out a soft chuckle, but everyone could see that her face was rather pale just from the short trip. "I'm just fine. I thought of all of you out here working so hard and wanted to contribute to the cause." She produced a rolled up blanket that she had tucked under her arm. "How about a little break? I'd imagine you're pretty hungry talking about all the ways to eat that corn."

Although they were all getting tired and a bit hungry, the main reason for the group's agreement was to allow Lillia a moment to rest. Rick and Cliff unrolled the picnic blanket while Zack insisted on fetching a wooden crate from his cart for her to sit on. Claire's cheeks burned with embarrassment that she didn't have much to offer for her to sit on, and she hurried inside for plates, cups, and a floor cushion to make Lillia's seat more comfortable.

Lillia's daughter hadn't heard Rick's comment earlier. "By the way, candy corn doesn't actually have corn in it, Mom." Popuri feigned a pout as she helped her sit down.

Lillia only gave her a silly smile and stuck out her tongue. "Of course it does. Corn syrup."

Claire's worry over the seating arrangements to accommodate Lillia faded at seeing the pair giggle together. Despite Lillia's ailment, she still had a quick wit and sense of humor.

Rick unpacked the picnic basket and among "You didn't have to do all this, Mom" and "This is too much", along with murmurs of thanks, sandwiches, pear slices, and cheese cubes were distributed among everyone.

While the Lockard family and Zack bit into their sandwiches heartily, Claire looked at the filling in confusion. It looked like a combination of mayonnaise and what looked like eggs, but it was a light shade of bubblegum pink. Strawberry flavored, perhaps? Cliff had already dug into his sandwich as well, but she got the distinct feeling after wandering so long, he wasn't a picky eater and accepted all offerings with gratitude. The bizarre color of the sandwich filling was less than appetizing and she worked on her fruit as she tried to puzzle what was inside the slices of bread. She knew Lillia was a good cook after tasting her entry at the cooking festival, but the sandwich left her a little baffled.

She wasn't aware that someone had been watching her closely. Popuri finished her cheese and took a quick first bite of her sandwich. "The egg salad's really good, Mom."

"Ah, thank you." Her eyes moved to Claire and her untouched sandwich. "Ketchup. I added a bit of it to the egg salad. Rick started the trend, and now the whole family eats it that way. Gives it a little bit of a tangy kick."

The farmer could recall Popuri teasing her brother for putting ketchup on everything. Claire bit into it and was not disappointed. Lillia's homemade mayonnaise was much richer than what Claire had purchased in the past, and the owner of the poultry farm unsurprisingly had cooking eggs down to an art.

"I'm afraid it's the only way I like it anymore, too," Zack admitted with a soft chuckle. "Nothing beats it." His dark eyes flicked to Lillia and he looked away, stretching his neck, a slight dusting of blush on his cheeks.

Popuri's posture suddenly became erect and she let out a tiny gasp, looking at the chicken coops across the fence. "What if we get a customer? What if Pete calls and needs something?"

Lillia shook her head with a gentle smile, as if she knew Popuri would ask this sooner or later. "I gave him a call right before I left. I told him you two were going to Claire's. He told me to say hello to everyone. He ordered quite a few things, and I'll make sure Thomas gets them before he heads out to the Valley today." At her son's inquisitive look, she continued. "He's building a new brooder for his new set of ducklings, and he's afraid that a couple of them are starting to show signs of Angel Wing, so he ordered a big bag of alfalfa pellets. He seemed a little upset, but I told him that you could take a look at them soon, Rick."

Finishing the last bite of his sandwich, he nodded. "They're young; we have a good chance to reverse the damage and their wings will be fine." He gave Claire a reassuring look. "It only really affects waterfowl. Makes their wings stick out unattractively. I think Pete was hoping to show those ducks in competitions on the side, though."

Claire was a bit surprised to hear that the experienced farmer was running into any kinds of problems with anything. Pete seemed so perfect in her eyes. She wondered what kinds of crops he was growing right now – surely something well thought out and organized. She'd see him soon enough at the Harvest festival in Forget-Me-Not in a couple of weeks.

"How's your little friend doing, Cliff? The one you wanted the giblets for back in spring?"

While Rick had asked Cliff about Cain lately, Cliff was surprised that he brought the topic up in the middle of the group. "Oh, uh, he's fine," he replied shortly, averting his eyes. While he had spoken to Harris at Gotz's advice and accompaniment, he still wasn't eager to advertise Cain to everyone.

"So Harris is alright with you keeping that bird over in the mine?" Popuri asked curiously. "I've seen the two of you together sometimes when I'm at the spring. He's very beautiful." She set down her plate. "It is a he, right? Male peregrines are smaller than females."

"His name is Cain. Th-thank you, I try my best to take good care of him."

Popuri gave him a friendly smile. "You look so kind when I see that you're talking to him."

Claire grinned; she had caught him doing the very same thing, and there was a very particular warmth she saw in his eyes when he was spending time with Cain.

Upon seeing the two watching him, Cliff attempted to fight back his embarrassment. "W-well, he's a good friend of mine. We've been through a lot together." He ducked his head a bit in shyness; while he was comfortable around Claire, he didn't spend much time with everyone else. He was still half afraid they would be upset he was keeping a bird of prey in a town that raised poultry.

"Your hair's cute today, Claire," Popuri commented suddenly, twisting her own hair into two low pigtails. "I always think of doing double buns, but I always either forget, or it looks too sloppy."

Claire bit back a self-critical chuckle. "Thank you." She knew the weather was going to be muggy, so she had pulled her hair into a pair of low buns that weren't exactly tidy. Cliff had looked at her hair with an amused yet kind smile earlier that morning, but he had said nothing. "I'm sure the buns would look nice on you. You and Lillia have such pretty hair."

They both thanked her, and while Rick snacked on some pear slices, Cliff was quietly observing the way Zack's eyes kept darting to Lillia.

"Ah, the color runs in the family. My mother had the prettiest curly hair. Rick takes after his father, though. Rod has lovely copper hair," Lillia explained dreamily.

Rick had mumbled under his breath something about his father probably growing bald before he returned back home and Popuri shot him a sour look. Although the two had been trying to avoid arguing, there was undeniable tension, and Lillia looked for an outlet. Zack had politely continued eating, pretending to overlook the discomfort forming.

"You know, Cliff, your hair actually reminds me a lot of Karen's. It's got a bit of gold in it, doesn't it?" Lillia's eyes wandered toward him.

Claire had never really considered that the streaks in Karen's hair were natural, especially with the way it was lightened toward the front. She watched with interest as Cliff draped his hair over one shoulder. It had grown much longer in the time she had known him and she loved the way it caught the sunlight. It did remind her of Karen's a bit when she really looked at it, but her hair was a cooler shade, while Cliff's was warmer. She found herself wanting to run her fingers through it and her cheeks felt far too hot even for the summer heat. "Moreso in the summer. My grandmother was the one with blonde hair."

Lunch was over before too long, and after the basket was packed back up, Lillia announced that she was heading back to the farm. She managed to head back without too much of a fuss from everyone else, insisting that the basket was much lighter and it was a short walk. The workers rested for a few minutes more.

Claire finished the last of the fruit juice in her cup and watched Koro and Tucker share a drink out of the river behind them. Cliff watched them with a happy chuckle and took a swig from his canteen, offering it to her. She accepted it with a nod, realizing at once how thirsty she had been.

"Keep your hydration up," Zack reminded them. "We don't want anyone getting sick."

Cliff took another quick sip from his canteen and reached into his bag to get a towel to dampen and cool down his face with. He shuffled through the contents and as he triumphantly removed the washcloth, a brass compass tumbled out and onto the grass. The young man picked it up to put away and it caught the light, causing Zack's eyes to widen.

"Where did you get that?" He didn't mean to raise his voice in surprise, and Cliff handed it over with a bit of bewilderment.

For a brief moment, Cliff wondered if Zack thought he had stolen it. It wouldn't be the first time he had been accused of thievery simply for being a traveler, but it would be a first in Mineral Town. He slouched his shoulders a bit, hoping he was reading too much into Zack's behavior. "It's May's. She left it outside last time we were playing in the church courtyard and I've been meaning to bring it back to her." He smiled at the memory of May leading him and Stu on an "expedition" in search of lost treasure.

Zack's weather-beaten hands traced the familiar scuffs along the brass lid as he remembered the salty sea air that day long ago. He could still see her dark hair flapping in the wind as she stood on the deck, illuminated by the morning sunrise. It wasn't a complete stretch of the imagination that she had entrusted the trinket to her daughter as a toy, but that simple compass brought back a lot of memories.

Her father hadn't wanted her to leave, and it had caused an uproar in the entire village. Zack had supported her decision to take charge of her own life, and, despite the popular opinion, he had escorted her by boat to a new life in the city at her request.

Cliff gave him a sad smile. "It's the only thing May has of her father's. She said that her mother got it with the instructions to follow her heart, and she passed it on to May with the same intent." A small lump formed in his throat. Despite Joanna's hopes for her daughter to follow her heart, May was constantly asking how her mother was doing; her heart was drawn toward having a solid family.

"That's beautiful," Popuri murmured, eyeing up the beaten compass. She held out her hands to look at it and Zack's trembling hands let it fall into her palms. Both women admired the muddled tarnish that had formed over the years, as it had created a pretty copper-toned variegation.

"It's well-loved," Claire observed with a kind smile. Her eyes were drawn to it and she couldn't help but feel a little sad she hadn't been given the same advice when she left the city.

Rick's gaze was focused on the old watch with a leather band he was wearing. The constant worry lines on his forehead faded as he gazed at the face of the watch, gently adjusting the way it fit onto his wrist. "It's nice to have mementos from your parents."

Cliff's hand rested on the well-worn hunting knife at his waist given to him by his father, but his eyes curiously looked up at Zack, who nervously stood up to stretch despite his wobbly limbs.

"Guess we should get back to it," Claire agreed, pulling herself to her feet.

The work that afternoon continued as normal, the slight static on the radio complementing the heat.

"Me and Karen and Ann used to play house here," Popuri was saying. "We'd take turns over who would be the dog. We'd always fight about it, because they got to go in the doghouse. After a while, we all decided to be dogs."

Claire looked over at Koro's house with a laugh. Her dog rarely slept in it; he was currently snoozing in the shade. The beagle/corgi mix fit comfortably in the doghouse with room to spare, but he was a fairly small breed. "You could fit in there?" she asked in surprise.

Popuri laughed. "Well, maybe not now, but we could then."

"Back home, the hawk transport boxes were my go-to place for hide-and-seek. They were about half the size of that doghouse," Cliff explained with a shrug.

Claire stared at him in disbelief. "H-how…?"

"I never said it was comfortable."

"Kids can fit into much smaller spaces than you can expect," Rick added, loading his full bag of corn into the wheelbarrow with a grunt. "I remember Mom would fill a five gallon bucket with cold water and I'd sit in it to keep cool in the summer." He grabbed a fresh burlap sack. "So, a few years later, I thought I'd try it again." He broke out into a snort, and smiles cracked across Claire's and Cliff's faces.

Popuri burst into giggles. "Ah, I wish I was old enough to remember this story!"

"She was still a baby," Rick explained, picking up his pace on the corn in his excitement. "Mom didn't like me around water unsupervised, I just decided to sit in the bucket. My bottom sunk right down and I got stuck, and my legs and arms were all stuck in the air. It didn't hurt, but I was supposed to be inside taking a nap, so I didn't want to get in trouble."

"How rebellious!" Claire was a bit shocked at the idea of Rick disobeying his mother.

"I-I was trying to flap around to get out." He took a break to imitate the weak flailing of his arms for a moment. He stopped to catch his breath from laughing. "S-so I…" He struggled to maintain a level voice. "I-I rocked back and forth to tip the bucket and I was crawling on all fours like a turtle back to the house in my shame."

The four young adults collapsed into laughter at the image.

Popuri wiped a tear from her eye. "Could you imagine? Rick was all, 'Mooooom!' waddling along."

This started a new round of laughter.

"Mom thought I had given myself enough punishment and she only sent me to bed for my nap. She was trying so hard to look serious, but even at that young age I could tell she was struggling to keep a straight face."

"She didn't send you to bed in the bucket, did she?" Claire asked. "How did you get out?"

"Between Dad and Zack, they managed to pull me out," Rick remembered with a laugh. "Do you remember that, Zack?"

Claire was only now aware of the fact that Zack's loud, rumbling laugh hadn't been heard during their merriment. She looked over at the large man who clumsily missed the bag, dropping his ear of corn on the ground. He quickly picked it up, flustered as he felt everyone's gaze on him. "Huh? Oh, yeah, you two were a handful, alright…"

Claire moved over to work beside him. "Anything I can help you with?" Her voice was very soft.

The look on his face was a mix of incredulousness and fear, and it startled her when their eyes met; she had never seen him look so intense. "I think I'm going to be able to move this bag of corn just fine. We'll have this done before we know it!" He shot her a smile, as if to apologize for the volume of his own words. There was something else in his eyes, however – a pleading look that she not ask any further questions.

Author's Note: A great, heartfelt thank you to all of you for your patience. I know my writings have slowed down significantly recently. I sincerely appreciate all of those who have supported me during this rough patch I've been going through. Whether you've written to talk to me, left feedback on my stories, or just read along, I really do appreciate it all.

I am planning on picking up the pace once more as I get used to posting again. I really was having fun writing Cliff x Claire moments in the previous chapter, but I could only imagine them as rather shy around each other when others are around. I'm really hoping to move this story along to fall soon! Thanks for reading!