Standing to wave good-bye to Claymore, Carolyn stood in the front yard, content that her 'meddling' as the Captain called it had paid off. Martha was her usual chipper self, her landlord was behaving far more honorably and honestly than usual and as for herself, she was pleased, but honestly a bit unsettled about everything that had happened now that the Dentist/Momma's Boy adventure was at an end.
It wasn't that she was regretting anything, but as she walked around the front yard in the cool night air, she stopped in front of the Monkey Puzzle tree. "So he wishes he was mortal," she said aloud to the growing tree, "you think that means what I hope it means? Not that it'll do either of us any good, but I would like to believe his interest in being mortal is about more than wishing he could enjoy a bowl of goulash with me."
Feeling a sudden chill, Carolyn looked up at the balcony, unable to shake the impression she had been watched from there while she walked the yard. At that same moment, she noticed the lights go on in the attic. 'So he's waiting for me,' she grinned to herself, 'perhaps it's not too late for a small glass of Madeira?'
Restraining herself from dashing up the stairs, she quietly tiptoed to the attic door and after a gentle tap, she peered inside. "Captain? Captain? I just wanted to let you know – I think everything is back on an even keel." Not seeing him, she walked into the room and looked curiously at two glasses of Madeira and to her surprise a bowl of potato chips. Appearing behind her, he said gently, "When our guests had departed you sampled that one chip and the expression on your face was memorable. I was curious if it was the food that entranced you or perhaps it was something else?"
Picking up a chip, she took a definite bite, and with a glint in her eye, she turned to face him and watched his face carefully as she swallowed. "It's true, I do have, shall we say, a passionate appreciation for potato chips. I have to monitor it carefully; it's something I cannot let myself indulge in too much. It wouldn't do to get carried away . . . would it?"
Holding out a glass to her, he let his gaze linger on her lips, as she licked a trace of salt away. Taking the small crystal glass from him, she looked down, unable to keep a blush from coloring her cheek. Gesturing to the settee, he joined her as she settled beside him. "M'dear, the line that separates appreciation from obsession is unique to each of us. But I promise to not let either of us become too indulgent, do you trust me?"
Recognizing all that he intended to say, she merely held up her glass and with eyes shining, she said softly, "A toast to appreciation," "And to trust," he offered, touching his glass to hers "and all it brings."