Wall of Disclaimers is up.
A week later, Roddy had his breath taken away. The toff, Barry Rabe, was in the shop showing off like a peacock. Upon seeing Roddy, his ego deflated into something that fit into the room. All of Roddy's haste to leave left too.
"I'm sorry." Roddy stared at the brunette before him. Brown eyes searched the floor and the proud head was bowed. If before Roddy had called him more a bear than a man, now he seemed like a cub searching for his mother. It must have been some scolding.
Unintelligently he replied, "For what?"
"For calling you a plebian." Roddy blinked at him for a second before jumping onto his own apology. The one Monroe made him swear to do on threat that he would lose all privileges, which in Monroe's book included bathing. Roddy had gotten rather used to regular baths.
"And, calling you a prat." Roddy rubbed the back of his neck.
Barry flushed. "I was one," he volunteered. Barry tapped the floor with his shoe. "Do you want to go out?" Roddy's head snapped up, alarm in his eyes.
Barry's hands went up. "Not like that! I mean for a 'My da put me up to this so can we get it over with' cup of coffee?" Roddy was tempted to take him up on the offer in the 'serves you right loser" way but recalled his earlier engagement.
"Sorry, no, I have to talk to a professor." Barry looked surprised. "Shocking that I went to school?"
"Yes, very," Barry sneered.
"Scholarship to Von Hamlin, I'll have you know." Roddy was on his way to the door.
"The Portland symphony is begging to have me."
Barry gave him a visible once over from behind. "They aren't the only ones."
"You're right." Roddy kicked the door frame. "The Royal Symphony in England wanted me too."
"How about a walk?" Barry was at the shop again. Recently, Holly and Hanson and, well, just about everyone else had taken to appearing in the shop to see the two and their "courtship."
For his part, Barry brought gifts to say sorry for their little spats. They were practical and fanciful. Today, Barry had brought him a set of leather gloves. Last week was a sheaf of music, which was a long shot better than what they started with. That was a wheel of cheese. The only explanation for that gift was "you seemed like the cheese eating type". That was ridiculous because Roddy hated cheeses of every kind.
Roddy looked at Monroe who gave him an off handed wave. No one was going to visit on Wednesday morning.
"Sure." They walked across the quiet street to the park situated directly across from Monroe's house.
The quiet park was always in green. Even as winter was coming on and all the trees lost their leaves, the park stayed a refreshing emerald. They walked for a good five minutes on one of the smaller trails, talking about their past weeks. Their shoulders bumped in a familiar way whenever the trail got too narrow.
"What do you play?" Barry asked out of the blue.
Roddy thought on it. "Cards?" Roddy offered.
Barry gave him an indulgent look. "I mean the instrument. I know Monroe plays the cello."
Roddy sighed, hands slipping deeper into his pockets. "Violin."
"Violin." Barry repeated. The words sounded so sweet on his tongue. "Did you stop?"
"Yeah, how'd you guess?" Roddy's ungloved hand left his pocket and dangled by his side. They stopped and turned around, realizing they walked farther than intended.
Barry's hand brushed his.
"You always make little music boxes in that shape."
Roddy sniffed. "I'm that obvious?" The other hand clasped onto his, fingers intertwined.
"Yeah, that obvious."
"Tell me why I'm doing this?" Monroe shoved a box into his arms.
"Frank Rabe wanted to meet the kid who did an attitude adjustment on Barry." Roddy snorted and brought the box to the hansom. Six months of visits and walks from Barry had taken its toll on his nerves. He'd taken to snarking as often as possible. This led to Barry's friends, as he was often with friends, to call him an old hen-wife. And it all started with Mr. Rabe forcing Barry to apologize for his rudeness.
"So what?" Roddy hopped into the hansom.
Monroe got into the cab after him. "I'm taking you with me on this repair. He wants a clock fixed and his father wants to buy some." Unlike most, Monroe knew about the original clocks and not just clockwork pieces.
"So we're bringing all this?" Monroe brought five medium sized clocks of varying design. Roddy's musical violins were stowed in another box. Mr. Rabe had an interest in those too. They went on another half hour discussing the pros and cons of switching to aluminum, a cheaper but flimsier substitute.
Monroe spoke out of the blue. "You could always pick up the bow again."
Roddy gave Monroe's hands a sad look. "We both know…" he looked at his gloved hand. Monroe shook his head as the carriage pulled up to the Rabe's mansion.
"I know that you're still brilliant." A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Now, go move these boxes."
The maid was not letting him in. He had gone back to get the violins when they asked and now faced a little fiasco.
"I'm with Mr. Wolfe." The maid looked him over. 'Dark, worn pants, unbuttoned shirt, and no tie' was written on her face.
"I find that hard to believe." Darn Monroe and his suit.
"Roddy?" The source of the voice calling him came from behind as a horse cam up the drive. The rider dismounted, handing the reins to a stableman.
"Oh, hello, young master Rabe," the maid flushed an unappealing shade of pink. Roddy just turned to the voice.
He gestured with his head towards the girl. "Barry, can you get her to let me in?" He had seen her simpering over Monroe earlier. More likely it was worse with Barry. Though, now she looked scandalized.
Barry took the boxes from Roddy's hands, asking, "Is Monroe here?" Roddy nodded. The expression on his face was hard to discern. Instead, he spoke to the maid, "If he ever appears at the door again. Let him in, no matter what."
The girl curtsied, something Roddy took as a yes, and stepped aside.
Roddy muttered, "They're in the study." Barry and Roddy ascended the steps and entered the study silently.
Upon opening the door the first thing Barry whispered was, "Why didn't you tell me grandfather Elliot was here?"
Roddy, finding a little pleasure in the other's expression, smirked.
"You didn't ask."
"Barry, my boy, you've done well." The old man grinned madly at them. "This one's a keeper."
Frank pleaded with the older man, "Father, you are upsetting the boys."
"Fiddlesticks! Barry's young man is made of sterner stuff if he keeps up with Barry." Roddy turned red enough to put the strawberries on the custard tarts to shame.
"Grandfather!" Barry was just as scandalized, if not more.
"You know, back in my day, all this was legal," the old man began again. "You could marry anyone you well liked!"
"But it isn't now," Frank reasoned trying to explain what seemed to clearly be a social injustice.
The old man sipped his tea.
"Stupid young people." He winked at Roddy.
Roddy's snicker was almost inaudible but the old man gave him a not-so-crazy grin.
Afterwards, Roddy pulled Barry aside.
"I like your grandfather." Barry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness, because, if he has anything to say about it, we are getting married."
Roddy shrugged. "If all your relatives are that interesting, I don't think I'd mind."
Barry's grin was brighter than the spring sun.