Like a Horse Made of Air
Chapter Six: Change is in the AirThere's something surreal about moving through the Shelby's home and shop. Wren would think it has to do with being in the space inhabited by notorious people she's heard whispers of for years. She supposes it is a little bit that. Mostly it's that something else inside of her—that knowing—which is fairly vibrating like a struck tuning fork. She'd call it a headache, but there's no pain with the tension.
Making it back into the shop she spots the woman she's looking for stood off talking to someone. She waits for Polly Grey to finish before approaching her.
"Mrs. Grey," she starts politely when she's close enough to speak normally and catches the other woman's eye. "If you ha—"
The older woman interrupts, "oh please, Polly will do. You're family now after all. Agreeing to take on a man like Tommy deserves it's privileges."
She guesses he had told his aunt after all. Not that she thought he'd lied, but confirmation is nice.
It's rude of her to just interrupt someone like that. And she doesn't much like that little quip about Tommy, either. She isn't impressed. Polly is Tommy's family, though, so she pulls on her "Customer Service" mask and gets on with it.
"Thank you, Polly," she smiles. "I was thinking of making dinner tonight, a thank you and introduction if you will, and I thought it best if I spoke to you before I made any plans. I understand you've been the sole woman of the house for awhile now and didn't want to step on any toes."
"Well you are a polite one, aren't you?" Polly smiles back at her. "Fear not for me toes, Dear. It's a lot of work keeping this house. I would welcome the break."
"Tommy needs to be here, so I'll be around to help," she tells the older woman. "Just let me know what you'd like me to take on and maybe we can lighten the load a bit."
"You can take on Tommy's house for a start," Polly launches right into it bluntly. "I've me own, Arthur's, and John's to deal with. Apparently, Tommy's going to have you helping with the books, which is something I cover too. You really licensed?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Wren replies simply.
"That'll be useful then," Polly muses. "I'll be kind enough to warn you, meals are a big affair in the Shelby house. They all end up here over the course of the day, so they all tend to eat here too. Plan for ten—eleven now with you—at the table. You sure you want to take that on?"
"I was thinking bigger actually. Get the men and their families together and have a sit down around some good food. I enjoy cooking," Wren answers honestly, that something nudging at her that she ought to push for this. "It's just hard to see much point in the effort when it's just me. Feeding half of Small Heath will be a good excuse to dust off Gram's recipes."
"Take that too then," Polly says as she lights up a cigarette. "I can cook, but it's a necessity not a pleasure."
"Glad to help," Wren reaffirms. "When will they be expecting dinner?"
"Anywhere between six to ten," Polly shrugs. "I don't always have time to keep to a set schedule. So they wait for me to cook, they get takeaway, or they make do with what they make themselves."
That would explain why Tommy couldn't tell her when dinner would be, "I'll see what I can manage then."
"Good luck," the older woman offers blandly. "You're going to need it."
Wren takes her leave then heading out into Small Heath.
Her Grandpa had business in properties and horses before his health started failing and he sold them all to his business partner. She'd been trained in that business from a fairly young age. It's where her knowledge of accounting came from; Grandpa had been licensed in it too. She's going to have to completely restructure her priorities as well as her schedule to accommodate everything she's suddenly responsible for. It's worth it though, she refuses to regret her choices.
She's all in, after all, which means taking on the things that are important to him too.
She turns on to a familiar lane and knocks on the Owens' door.
"Hello, you," Rosie greets happily and waves her on in.
"Hello, Rosie," Wren returns warmly. "I've a lot of news, so I hope you have something stronger than tea."
"I've rum, wine, and whiskey. Take your pick," her friend declares without missing a beat, bringing three bottles to their table and slapping them in the middle.
Wren grabs two glasses from the cupboard and pours wine for Rosie and rum for herself.
"Alright," Rosie says after taking a drink. "Let us have it then."
"Firstly," Wren begins. "Tommy and I are officially together as of this morning."
Rosie literally screams in joy and snatches Wren up in a hug, "I knew it, I did! Knew it, knew it, knew it!"
Laughing at the other woman's exuberance Wren sinks gratefully into the embrace. Everything had been happening so fast, she's grateful to have a moment to actually feel it and be happy.
"Alright, alright," Rosie sets back. "Details."
"It starts rather crumby," she warns. "But turns out Tommy has a watch on me house."
"That doesn't surprise me at all," Rosie rolls her eyes.
"It's a good thing he did," Wren sighs. "His man caught a thief who got in."
"Oh no," Rosie frowns.
"Fortunately, the man didn't get far," Wren says. "Unfortunately, Tommy's man came up the stairs and…well, heard me, you know."
"Oof," Rosie grimaces.
"It gets worse," Wren takes a drink. "Tommy's man didn't do anything to let me know he was there. I had no idea anything had happened. Then the man tells Tommy that I didn't notice a break in because I was fucking another man—who happened to also be named Tommy."
"Jesus Christ, the hell he do that for?" Rosie takes a drink. "Tommy couldn't have taken that well."
"He tracked me down at Molly's and saw me taking tablets. And even better, someone knocked the tin out my hand and Tommy picked it up and found out I'm taking contraceptives."
"This sounds like someone was out for you," Rosie frowns.
"Tommy confronted me about it," Wren tells her friend. "I'd never seen him upset like that before. He just kept pushing and well. I've a temper."
"Did you fight?" Rosie worries.
"I looked him dead in his eye and more or less told him I'd been masturbating while thinking of him," Wren groans and slumps into her hand.
"You didn't," Rosie breathes, torn between sympathy and glee.
"Mph. I very much did," Wren scrubs at her face and takes a drink.
"What'd he do?"
"Calmed right down like I hit a switch," she huffs a laugh. "Then did that thing he does where he apologizes without actually saying he's sorry."
"I hate when he does that," Rosie grouses over the rim of her glass.
Wren shrugs, "it's not that bad."
"You're biased," Rosie counters.
"Well, I suppose I am at that," Wren muses. "Though I'm not blind to his faults."
"What happened next?"
Amused Wren eyes her friends eager face, "he left to take care of business and I went about my day."
"Then how do we get to officiousness?" Rosie pouts.
"He walked me home that night," Wren shakes her head. "Just like he does most every night."
"Alright," Rosie nods, "do continue."
"He came in, but instead of settling in the kitchen he went and found me office," Wren admits.
"Wait, isn't that where you keep the books?" Rosie grins.
"'Tis and he picked one up right off too."
Rosie snorts a laugh, "you get some hands-on learning?"
"No, we still haven't had sex."
"What? How come?"
"It was a long day and a long night. The mood didn't last."
"What happened now?"
"He wanted to look through me books—the business ones—just as a precaution. But we found out someone's been stealing from me regularly for near three months. Which means there's been someone breaking into me house, and no one noticed a thing, for just as long."
Rosie instantly looks upset, "is it fixed? Did Tommy get the fucker?"
Wren shakes her head, "it's a work in progress. We don't know who it is. But don't worry, alright? Tommy and I are handling it."
"Tommy has to be pissed."
"Aye, he couldn't even say a word to me. Just got up and stormed off to go hunting."
"Sounds about right."
"I'd resigned meself to a sleepless night, when he came back."
"Did he now?" Rosie wiggles her brows.
"With a suitcase in his hand."
"What, did I miss something?"
"That about sums up what I thought about it. He went and set himself up in me room like he owned the place. Moved himself right in."
"He did not!" Rosie gasps. "You know, he used to be charming."
"He's plenty charming as he is," Wren muses wryly. "Don't think I could handle it if he was worse."
Rosie helpfully laughs at her, "So he stayed the night?"
"Yep," Wren pops the p. "Woke up this morning and the first thing he did was kiss me stupid."
"That sounds nice."
"Would've been better if it didn't become obvious he was trying to walk me into something. But it led to a conversation we probably should have had weeks ago."
"Official?"
"Aye, that's when we agreed to be together," Wren smiles. "And convinced me to more or less move to Watery Lane with him. At least 'til this mess with the thief and the house is sorted."
"The circumstances suck, but congratulations. Should forewarn you, though, that now he's got you where he wants you? You aren't going anywhere."
"Rather thought that meself. Wasn't helped by the conversation I had with Polly Grey."
"Ugh," Rosie grimaces.
"Don't like her?"
"Polly's why I don't spend much time at the shop. She goes on and on about being the heart of the family and how she raised those men. I'm rather curious how she managed that when she's three years older than Arthur and—what, six? Seven? years older than Tommy and maybe eleven years older than John. Not that I don't respect she stuck with them when her brother fucked off, but she often comes across as either arrogant, patronizing, or both."
"I'm still annoyed that one of the first things she said to me was a petty little dig at Tommy," Wren confesses.
"We don't get to pick family," Rosie frowns and reaches for her wine.
"I certainly understand that," Wren grimaces and reaches for her rum. "To friends: the family we choose!"
"Aye," Rosie agrees heartily.
They both finish their drinks.
"I've taken on Tommy's house, which includes the shop. Tommy's asked me to help Arthur and also to help with the shop's books. Additionally, I've volunteered meself to cook for half of Small Heath at least a few times a week."
"What for?" Rosie blinks.
"I've agreed to be his partner in life, that means taking on the things that are important to him. The Peaky Blinders are his people, so it's me job to help him take care of them. You're attendance is mandatory, by the way, no skip days for you."
Rosie exaggerates a pout and sighs dramatically, "the things I do for you."
"The price of me friendship is showing up to eat free food," Wren laughs.
"It's so terrible the things you ask of me," Rosie laughs.
Silence reigns for a long moment as they drink.
"Walking about for business isn't going to be feasible anymore," she muses as she refills her glass and her friends.
"I'd been sort of thinking the same thing," Rosie agrees. "You've an overfull plate, Love."
"The walking about was never supposed to be permanent," Wren explains. "The idea was always to get a shop. But that's off the table because the house needs work."
"So what are you going to do?" Rosie asks with concern.
"Well, with Tommy moving us in together that actually takes a lot of the urgency out of getting the house done. Means I can take it in stages and that'll free up money in the short term," Wren explains.
"That's good?" Rosie shrugs. "I've no head for business. I'm content having someone pay me."
Wren picks up her head and stares at Rosie, "that's it."
"What's it?" Rosie blinks and sends a questioning look at her wine.
"I'll hire people to do the walkabouts for me," Wren says with slowly rising enthusiasm. "Why haven't I thought of this before?"
"I'm honestly not sure what you're on about," Rosie says apologetically.
"It goes like this," Wren says as she grabs a bunch of items from around the room and piles them on the table. "Say the saltshaker is the washhouse, the whiskey is the Garrison, and the pepper is Molly's."
"Alright," Rosie nods.
"Now, when I go walking this is kind of me route," Wren shows a spoon wandering between the imaginary lanes.
"But if I hire people to be on the street for me: I can have someone set to be around the washhouse, another person to be around the Garrison, and someone else to be around Molly's," and here Wren sets up forks near each landmark. "Which means I can streamline the product each person is carrying, and also increase accessibility while also freeing meself up for actually making product and keeping the houses."
"And for visiting me," Rosie adds on.
"And for visiting you," Wren laughs.
Rosie suddenly looks thoughtful, "you'd really pay someone to hang around Molly's?"
"So long as they actually do the job, I don't see why not," Wren shrugs.
"Say someone already spends a lot of time at Molly's," Rosie hedges. "What exactly would the job entail?"
Wren blinks a bit, "well, sales really. They'd be looking to sell out the general product they carry regularly and make sure the special orders make it into the right hands."
"I could do that," Rosie muses.
"Yeah?" Wren asks as she lowers her glass back to the table. "Because that would be perfect. Molly's is where I deal with a fair amount of sensitive product and clientele. Finding someone I'd trust not to ruin me contraceptive business would be a nightmare. Never mind finding someone who'd also be willing to accurately collect and track the gossip."
"Yes," Rosie announces with a bang of her hand on the table. "That's me job now, no take backs."
"Deal," Wren spits into her hand and offers it across the table.
"Deal," Rosie cheers as she spits into her hand and shakes Wren's.
Then they both get up and clean their hands before returning to their drinks.
"I'll write up a proper contract," Wren informs the other woman. "Do you think you could start tomorrow?"
"I could start today," Rosie snorts.
"What about your sewing?" she frowns.
"Eh," Rosie sighs. "It's been a bit of a wash. Not many projects being sent me way lately."
"That's bollocks," Wren grouses in defense of her friend.
"Hey," Rosie grins, "I'd ditch sewing for this new gig even if I were doing well."
"Glad to help," Wren grins at Rosie then frowns at her cup. "We should probably stop drinking."
"Probably," Rosie agrees.
They get up and clean up the table and glasses, giggling as they bump into each other.
"To yours then?" Rosie asks when they're finished.
"Aye, best do," Wren agrees.
They link arms after Rosie locks up her house, and wander to Birch Street. Wren feels a deep sense of gratitude for her friend and enjoys the walk with it's hushed conversation and laughter. They make it to hers in one piece and mostly sober.
It isn't until she notices Rosie poking around curiously as Wren makes them tisane that she blinks and realizes, "I've never brought you over have I?"
"Nope," Rosie shrugs. "But I'm easier to pin down than you are. There's been a time or two I've wondered if you went home at all."
"Still," Wren frowns as she makes up the tray.
"Oh, pish. We've already agreed to mandatory dinners, haven't we?" Rosie waves off before saying with relish, "and now you're showing me 'the Office'!"
Wren grabs up the tray with a shake of her head and laughs heading for the stairs, "suppose you're right."
"Of course, I am," Rosie smiles cheekily.
She watches with no little amusement as the other woman explores the vaunted "Office". Giggles with her friend over "the books" and they share a few stories about their childhood and families. Somehow, during all the fun they manage to workout an agreeable contract and get it written up. Then they have to find a bag for Rosie and get it stocked. Wren makes up an inventory log for Rosie and goes over the product with her. And makes up an information packet at the other woman's request.
Wren had double checked her inventory and done the gardening before she and Tommy had left this morning. So, she steps out with Rosie and spends time working with the woman as they do a bastardized version of her usual route that ends with Wren leaving a cheerful and more confident Rosie at Molly's.
She'll have to find a few more people to split the work, but she's pleased with their progress and her friend's happiness. It has been a late start on top of a late start, so she has a limited amount of time for her usual business that day.
When she splits off from Rosie she heads to market to do some grocery shopping.
She's never shopped or tried to feed so many people before, so she'd rather err on the side of simple. If she had more time, she'd make up soup and bread, but she doesn't so that's out. Boiled dinner is out too for the same reason. She heads to the butcher to see what's on sale. In the end she decides on a kind of shepherd's pie with rabbit.
Making her way back to Watery Lane, she drops her haul on the kitchen table. Then she turns her attention to the kitchen itself. She gives every surface a good scrub and empties out the cupboards to take stock of what she has to work with. She gives any dishes a wash, then pulls out a blank journal to start an inventory and budget for the kitchen from sheer force of habit. Putting everything to paper has always helped her keep her head straight. Then she starts getting dinner together.
She's distantly aware of people coming and going as she works, but it isn't until Tommy grabs her about the waist that she gives them any mind.
"I'm sorry, what'd you say?" She blinks up at him.
He reaches up and brushes something off her cheek with a small smile as he says, "said it smells good in here."
"Yeah," a new voice pipes up as a young boy smiles up at her.
She smiles as she disentangles herself from Tommy to get down on the boy's level, "thank you, and who might you be?"
"I'm Finn Shelby," the boy puffs up with obvious pride.
"Well, Finn Shelby," She says warmly, "I'm Wren Ashby, it's nice to meet you."
"I know," the boy nods, "it's nice to meet you too."
"You do, do you?" She asks amused.
"Uh-huh," Finn replies in the unabashed way of children. "When he was walking me home from school, Tommy said he brought his woman home and she'd be staying with us from now on. Her name is Wren Ashby, he said, and to mind we didn't call her anything other than an Ashby no matter what anyone else said. Then when I came in he was hugging on you, so I figured you must be Wren and I was right."
"Guess so," Wren laughs. "Hey, think you can do me a favor, Finn? Since you're so clever and all?"
"Sure," the boy offers magnanimously.
"It'll be another twenty before dinner's ready. Think you can find everybody and let them know?"
Finn's whole face lights up as he nods eagerly, not even bothering with a verbal response as he runs off.
"He seems sweet," she laughs as she stands back up and turns her attention back to Tommy, who has leant against the counter with a cigarette between his lips.
"No idea where he gets it from," Tommy quips wryly.
"Oh, well, I might have an idea," Wren grins as she leans into him.
"That so," he asks idly as he slips an arm around her, removing his cigarette with the other hand.
She pushes up on her tiptoes with her hands gripping his shoulders and kisses him softly. They've barely a moment to enjoy it, before a new voice breaks in.
"Not the way I expected to meet your woman, brother," a playful voice teases from much too close.
Wren instantly sinks back on her heels startled, while Tommy sighs and levels his brother with a look.
"You must be John," Wren notes wryly.
"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," John tsks and shakes his head. "Every man knows you shouldn't tell your woman about your more attractive brother."
"Suppose that means it's safe to tell her about you and Arthur then," Tommy retorts.
John laughs easily as he sips from a flask he's pulled from his pocket, "smells bloody good in here. When's supper then?"
"I sent Finn 'round to let everyone know," Wren tells the man. "Should only be about fifteen left."
"Get a count of everyone who's showing," Tommy tells John. "Then go ahead and get the tables ready."
"Danny and Rosie are coming," she tells them. "If they aren't here yet."
John waves a hand over his shoulder as he heads back through.
"You and Rosie doing alright, then?" Tommy asks.
"She actually works for me now," Wren tells him as she steps back to the oven and begins unloading the trays.
"That so?" Tommy asks as he reaches over and helps.
"Yeah, we just drew up the contract today," Wren answers. "Tell you about it later?"
Tommy takes the last tray from her but doesn't get to answer as there's the sudden bang of a door.
"Who the hell are you," a young woman—who must be Ada—throws out sharply as she strides in.
Tommy snaps back, "she's mine, is who the hell she is, so watch your tone. And where've you been, eh?"
The shift from belligerent to sweet almost gives Wren whiplash as Ada's entire demeanor seems to change upon sighting her brother, "Oh, hi, Tommy. You home for dinner then?"
"Aye, I am. Now answer me question," the man in question sighs.
"Was just out for a bit," Ada shrugs as she dumps her things haphazardly around the room. "I took Olivia, and Marigold into town to look at some dresses. So does yours have a name?"
"Wren Ashby," she replies for herself.
"Never heard of the Ashbys," she smiles dismissively, with just a hint of bite.
"Find that odd," Wren muses absently. "Considering it was me Grandfather who sold your Grandfather the houses here."
"What?" Ada looks to Tommy in surprise.
Tommy nods as he smokes, "Aye, Owen Ashby sold our family the houses. Was friends with our Granddad for years. Most his business might have been in properties, but they shared a love of horses. Used to see him around Charlie's before he passed. You've never spent much time there, so I suppose that's why you didn't know."
Ada clearly doesn't know what to do with this revelation and ends up muttering something under her breath and stalking out.
"Dinner's in five," Tommy calls after her before meeting Wren's eyes. "I don't know what to do with that girl."
"What do you mean?" Wren asks as she stacks plates and silverware. "She seems to listen to you."
"Ada's only ever that sweet when she's up to something she knows I won't like," Tommy reveals as he grabs down cups. "And honestly? She's never been quite like this before."
"Ah," Wren realizes. "You're waiting for the boom."
"I'd prefer to figure out what it is before it blows up in me face," Tommy frowns. "But Ada's clever when she puts her mind to it. It's just bloody frustrating she applies it to everything but what's important."
"Well," she asks slowly, "have you ever given her something to be responsible for?"
Tommy lifts an eyebrow as he rolls a cigarette over his lip and lights it.
"How is she supposed to understand what's important to you," Wren explains, "when she's never been given a chance to figure out what it means to be responsible for someone or something other than herself? To have to be the one to make the choices and face the consequences for those choices. Not everyone learns by example, sometimes they need the hard lessons that can only come from personal experience."
"Your saying she needs a job?" Tommy asks.
"Well, look at it this way, if you don't give a body something to do," Wren answers wryly. "They'll find something for themselves, whether it's something you'd rather or not."
Tommy nods thoughtfully. He looks like he's going to say something, but they're interrupted again.
"Wren!" Rosie cries happily as she bounds through the door and hugs her.
"You'd think I hadn't just spent hours with you," she laughs at the other woman. "Hi, Danny."
Danny smiles good naturedly as he wanders in behind his wife, "'Ello, Wren. Rosie told me 'bout her new job."
"She's doing me a great favor, lettin' me be her boss," Wren smiles. "How was it after I went?"
"Was grand fun actually," Rosie reports. "I brought me bag so we could go over everything together. Oh, hello there, Tommy."
"Rosie, Danny," Tommy greets easily as he comes up behind Wren and settles an arm around her waist.
"Ah, congratulations are in order I hear," Rosie offers as she leans into Danny.
"Aye, congratulations, mate," Danny offers Tommy his hand, which Tommy readily shakes.
"Thank you," Tommy accepts. "Did you bring your boys?"
Just then what sounds like a herd of animals comes howling through, but what turns out to be a sizable group of children.
"Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!" They cry nearly as one as they swarm around the couple to get at the man in question.
"Alright, alright," Tommy mock sighs. "What is it then?"
There's promptly a wall of noise as every child begins speaking at once, which Tommy actually weathers with admirable patience. Wren feels a bit overwhelmed and she's merely a bystander. Tommy just lifts a brow and waits.
When the noise peters back out, Tommy picks a kid and nods which resolves into the kids going one after the other, but all getting to report their day to their families patriarch. Actually, as she spots a dark-skinned boy, she thinks no few of these are Peaky men's kids and not just Shelbys. At some point the Owen's boys make an appearance—older teenagers both—and get a moment of Tommy's attention. Then somehow everyone's shifted to the tables and foods being distributed.
Wren sits briefly next to Tommy, before she realizes no one's helping the youngest kids.
"We take turns with the kids, so everyone gets a chance to eat and have a break," Wren explains to the group she'd gathered trying to be heard over the noise and receives their agreement.
She's introduced to dozens of faces; some she'd been aware of before and some new. Then she finds herself back next to Tommy as his arm winds firmly about her waist and he pulls her into his lap. She's a little flustered but not truly bothered. Considering the way the others crowd around him, his lap is the only free space left. There's dozens of conversations going at once, with interruptions at every third word, the space filled with noise and laughter.
Then she blinks and it's time for clean up where she carefully heeds the warning looks the other women send her and stays clear of the work—apparently the cook cleaning sets a bad precedent.
She's grateful for the excuse Rosie represents and after a quick exchange with Tommy to make sure it's alright she steals the other woman away. The noise is noticeable but distant from the top floor and they can speak without shouting or interruption. It feels almost dizzyingly novel after hours in amidst the pack.
"So how fair you, after your first official Shelby Dinner?" Rosie laughs. "Everything you hoped for?"
"Think I might be deaf," she mutters from her place flopped over onto the bed. "But, it seems to be going well."
She feels a hand pat her on the back absently for a moment before, "alright, then, you've had your moment. Now help me go over me work."
Amused she pushes herself upright and asks, "who's the boss again?"
Rosie just rolls her eyes and shoves her log into Wren's hands. Wren patiently goes over end of day business with Rosie, until the older woman is happy with her own understanding, and all the work for both of them is done.
Then they head back downstairs. Fortunately, people have begun to trickle home as the hour grows late and while there's clear chatter it no longer feels like a wall of noise. She says goodnight to the Owens and then finds herself helping folk get around and saying goodbye as more and more make their exit.
She's holding Mrs. Kistler's youngest—who's maybe two—while the woman double checks she has everything when Tommy finds her. He chucks the little girl under her chin which earns him a sleepy giggle from the babe. They're saying goodbye to the Kistler's and then—for a blessed moment—it's just them.
"Let John and Arthur finish this bit," he tells her as he grabs her by the waist and steers her somewhere.
"Fair enough," Wren allows. "What are we doing?"
"Sent Pol home so it'll be you and me going over the books tonight," he answers.
"I near forgot about that," she admits.
Tommy presses a kiss to her head. "You did well. Judging by the congratulations I kept getting, I'm certain you left a good impression. You still think doing this more than once throughout the week is a good idea?"
"I do," Wren smiles wryly. "You did well tonight too. Did you notice how everyone gathered 'round you? Even Arthur and John fell into your orbit, rather than maintain circles of their own. Which is better than I expected to be honest. There's a lot of love for you here."
"I did manage to settle a few minor issues tonight that might have caused problems later," Tommy muses as they enter his office and close the door behind them. He hands her a stack of ledgers, and they settle down amidst cashboxes and begin the work.
"Worth it, you think?"
"Aye, suppose so. How many times where you thinking a week?"
"Best start with two and go from there, I think. We can adjust depending on what comes out of it down the road."
"Alright, we'll set a budget."
She's partway into a book when she can't help but ask, incredulous, "who's work is this?"
Tommy doesn't even look up when he answers, "Arthur's."
She spends a long moment staring in disbelief, "you're joking."
"I wish it were a bad joke," Tommy sighs. "But Arthur's never been the best with numbers."
"That's like saying water's a little wet," she grumbles. Then feels a twinge of guilt. People can't help what they're good at, never mind what they're bad at.
"You're not wrong," Tommy huffs a laugh.
"Why don't you find him something he's good at and enjoys?" Wren asks as she squints to try to figure out what she's looking at.
"That would involve getting him to admit he's miserable having to play at being the man with answers," Tommy says as he leans back to light a smoke. "And I've only just gotten him to let me take over bringing in new business."
"I don't think I follow," she frowns, "I thought you're the Peaky Blinder's leader? Most people do."
"Officially? Arthur is our leader," Tommy exhales a long stream of smoke. "But I think the strain of it is beginning to crush him. Arthur doesn't like to think, doesn't have the patience. He's always happier when I can provide the answer he needs and all's he has to do is follow through. But he's proud and stubborn, as all of us Shelbys are. Doesn't want to admit to weakness."
"I always hated it when the teachers told us to list our strengths and weaknesses," Wren sighs as she absently steals Tommy's cigarette for a drag before giving it back. "The world needs all sorts, you know? It's not a weakness to have a different skillset. It's necessary. If every man is a leader who does he lead? If every man's a sailor who keeps the docks? If every man's a hunter who makes the bread?"
"I see your point," Tommy agrees. "But it isn't me you need to convince."
"Well, I did say I'd help him if I can," Wren nods.
"Speaking of helping, what's this thing with Rosie," Tommy asks thoughtfully.
"You want the long or short of it?" She asks.
"All of it," he answers without hesitation.
"Me schedule isn't feasible anymore," she tells him honestly. "I can't spend me days wandering about and get everything that needs doing done."
"Moving in with me shouldn't change that much," Tommy frowns.
"Tommy, I've done more than move in with you," Wren informs him wryly. "All in, remember? So, I've your house to manage, Shelby meals, your business, and your family to all consider now too on top of me house, and me business."
"Pol covers a lot of that," Tommy tells her.
"I asked Polly to let me know how I could help," Wren retorts. "And she let me know. And I sincerely don't mind taking it on. I told you I want to be your partner and I meant it."
"That's more than a full plate, Wren," Tommy sighs as he runs a hand through his hair.
"Which is why I'm restructuring," she reassures him. "The most time-consuming part of me job is the walkabout. It's also the most inefficient. I can solve both problems by hiring people to take on sections of the walk. It'll cost me to do, but I also feel like it will significantly increase me sales which will more than make up for it. Even just today with it being a short day, I've made more money having Rosie out than I would have just by meself."
He studies her face a long moment, "you think it'll be worth it?"
"Honestly? It'll free me up to do the part of me job I actually enjoy. I'll get to focus on management and making product. I'll only potentially have to deal with special order clients. I won't have to smile at Mrs. Kowalski and pretend I don't want to set her on fire."
Tommy huffs a laugh, "that bad, eh?"
"You have no idea what it will mean to me to not have to actively seek out people like that, every single day," she declares with feeling.
"Well, if it means so much to you," Tommy finally smiles, "far be it from me to stand in your way."
"Mighty generous of you, Mr. Shelby," she laughs while she gets up to give her man a kiss.