A/N: Hoo boy, this turned into a long chapter, with some angst. I still picture this to be a mostly very happy story, but of course, they have a history. I still own nothing. Thanks for the kind reviews!

Elsie glanced at the clock. 11:50. She'd have to leave soon, or Beryl would never let her hear the end of it. She sighed, reluctantly getting up from the kitchen table. She opened the French doors to the balcony one last time, feeling the cold, but not frigid, air. Fifty degrees on the 27th of December! The sunshine felt warm on her face. Closing the doors, she gathered the last dishes from their late breakfast and headed for the sink. Charles was singing in the shower. She bit back a laugh.

"Charlie?" she called, the steam pouring into the hallway when she cracked the bathroom door open. "I have to go in about ten minutes."

He didn't stop singing when he heard her open the door, but he did drop to a hum. "I'll be out shortly." Shutting the water off, he stepped out and grabbed a towel. It smelled like her. He continued singing quietly under his breath as he dried off. "Dashing away with a smoothing iron, she stole my heart away…"

She pulled a dark blue button-down shirt out of her closet. Taking off her robe, she put on a pair of jeans. She was glad that she'd showered earlier. When he wasn't on a schedule, he could stay in there for an hour. If she didn't join him.

He walked into her room, his hair still dripping, wearing nothing but the towel. He heard her breath hitch. He held the towel together with one hand and reached for her hand with the other. "Are you sure you have to go so soon? You're not fully dressed either," he said, a smile growing on his lips at the sight of her flushed face. He stepped forward until he was right next to her. He pulled the long auburn strands of her hair over her ear and left a long, lingering kiss on her neck.

"Charlie," she breathed. "I have to go, I really do." With difficulty, she pushed on his chest and stepped away, fumbling with the rest of the buttons on her shirt. "Beryl's already texted me twice this morning. I think she thinks I'm not going to come for lunch." She turned back to him in amusement. "I don't want to give her any more reason to give me a hard time today."

"Fair enough," he said, even though his body protested. He kept the towel fastened around him as she finished dressing. She put her arms around his waist and drew him down for a kiss. He gasped when she nipped his bottom lip. He kept a tight hold around her with his other arm. "If you're going to kiss me like that, you can't expect me to let you go, woman," he growled. She kissed him once more, quickly.

"You go and talk to Robert," she said, her voice low. "I'll be back later this afternoon. And then…" she traced a finger down his chest, over his scar. He groaned aloud.

"How am I supposed to function now?" She grinned, sticking her tongue out at him as she went back into the kitchen to grab her coat and purse.

"You'll manage. Remember to lock the door when you leave. I love you," she came back to give him one last kiss.

"I will," he promised. "Tell Beryl and Bill hello. I love you, too!" She waved as she left.

The drive to the Mason farm from her condo took about fifteen minutes. There was more traffic on the roads, no doubt because a lot of people were coming home after the holiday. She sat at a long red light, tapping on the steering wheel. Remembering the feel of his scar. She shuddered. You were such a fool then, Elsie. Eight years ago, 2007. A lifetime ago.

After seventeen years working for Mr. Carson, she'd begun to chafe somewhat. At the time, she'd been dating Steven Russell, one of the partners at Haxby & Associates. That was after she had ended a short relationship with another partner, Pete Halton. The two men had approached her, separately, offering her the position as office manager at Haxby. A third, Richard Carlisle, had also approached her, but she had zero interest in what he was offering.

It was not illegal to approach an employee at another firm with an offer; plenty of attorneys and staff had gone from one office to another. But to do it in the open was considered untoward, and very unprofessional. Mr. Carson had steadfastly refused to do so in his hiring practices. When she told him of the offer, and that she was considering it, he was extremely short with her.

"Well," he snapped, glaring at her from behind his desk, his face uncharacteristically livid. "If you're so unhappy here, then I see no reason why you shouldn't accept." He swung around in his desk chair, his back to her, absorbed in his work. She stood for a moment, stunned at his rudeness, then angry with his petulance.

"I'm surprised with you, Mr. Carson," she said, feeling the acid between her teeth, "Normally if one of your employees is unhappy, you at least try to see how you can repair the situation. But I see I don't deserve that same consideration."

"You've made it clear that you have reached your professional goals here," he fumed, not turning around. "I don't see the need to give you any further reflection." He paused. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Oh, I see," she seethed. "That's all you care about, isn't it? Go on, do your work, and do it well. It's all you have left." She huffed for a moment, sure he had heard her, and left his office in a fury. She slammed her own office door shut, and felt the wall vibrate, the same wall he shared.

She wondered why she had been worrying about him, the amount of work he had recently taken on. If he wanted to work himself into the ground, why should she care?

She had left work that day, intent on accepting the offer, to get away from that office, that firm, that infuriating managing partner. She'd cried that night at home. She had thought they were at least friends.

She had told Steven to expect an answer from her within two weeks. Privately, she prepared herself to leave. She avoided him as much as possible, not wishing to provoke his ire or hers, again.

On the Tuesday after her confrontation with Mr. Carson, she was sitting at her desk, trying to sort out the details of a CLE presentation being held later in the week. In the storage room next to hers, the young associate William Mason was sorting through complicated box files, helped by Joe Molesley, then a mail clerk.

Her desk phone rang, a long ring. Someone from outside the office, then. She glanced at the number before answering. It looked familiar, one of the attorneys?

"This is Elsie Hughes, at Carson & Crawley." John Bates was working as a partner, but had not yet been added to the firm name.

"Mrs. Hughes? It's Matthew, Matthew Crawley. Something's happened-"

"What? What's happened?" Somehow, some way, she knew it was him. She stood up, bashing her knee against her desk, the phone clutched to her ear.

"Mr. Carson collapsed. Outside the courtroom, we were waiting to go in, he was dictating to Phyllis-"

"He collapsed? Mr. Carson? At the courthouse?" Her voice cracked, a high pitch. The sensation of falling was overwhelming. She gripped the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Yes, he just keeled over. Dickie Merton was there, he tore his tie off, laid him on the floor. Thank God the medical examiner, Dr. Clarkson, was there. He and Dickie did CPR while Phyllis called 911. We've just arrived at the hospital, Mary's in the ambulance with him, we were following behind." There was a garbled noise, Matthew directing Phyllis Baxter, Mr. Carson's paralegal and secretary, where to park.

"Where are you? Which hospital?" The blood pounded in her ears.

"We're at Anderson-"

"I'm on my way." She slammed the phone down and was out the door. She vaguely remembered William and Joe peeking out of the storage room, faces white; Ethel Parks, the new secretary, wide-eyed in shock, Beryl, in the doorway of her office, her mouth open in a question. She hurtled down the stairs, knocking Charles Bryant against the rail. Anna stood up at the receptionist's desk as she ran past. There was no time, no time to say anything, not even to Anna.

She prayed for the first time in years in the car. God, don't let him die. I have to see him. Please, please, don't let him die. I'll do anything…

Matthew, Mary and Phyllis waited with her in the waiting room. She sat rigidly, not moving, no speech. She flinched when Phyllis touched her hand, asked if she wanted a bottle of water. She nodded, afraid to speak. When the doctor came out, he explained that they had done emergency bypass surgery. Mr. Carson was alive, but in critical condition. A cry escaped from Elsie before she could stop herself. She held a hand over her mouth. Her relief was so palpable she was sure she could see it rolling off of her. Thank God.

"May I see him? He's my godfather," Mary explained, her eyes wide, color beginning to return to her face.

"Are you family?"

"No, he's not a blood relation, but-"

"I'm sorry, but you can't."

"We don't think he has any family," Matthew explained as Phyllis looked stricken. Elsie was still trying to control herself. The doctor nodded. He sent for a nurse with Mr. Carson's medical information. The young woman paged through the chart.

"I wish this was Sybil's shift," Mary muttered under her breath. "She'd let me back to see him."

"Is your name Elsie Hughes?" The nurse asked.

Mary shook her head, looking confused. "No-"

"I'm Elsie Hughes," Elsie croaked through her dry lips. The nurse nodded.

"You can come with me."

"Why her?" Mary asked, standing up. Matthew touched her wrist, trying to get her to sit.

"She's first on his contact list in case of an emergency," the nurse said.

She had forgotten he had put her on the list. Strange that he hadn't put Robert or Mary first. She walked behind the nurse to his room.

He was a swath of tubes and bandages. The machines beeped and she bit back a sob at the IV in his arm. He was still unconscious, but she was steadied by the visible rise and fall of his chest. She gently touched his hand, told him she was there. She struggled to control her emotions, feeling a tear run down her face. She didn't think he could hear her, but said the only thing she could think of saying.

"I'm not leaving you, Mr. Carson. So don't you dare leave me."

She had called Steven the following night to tell him she couldn't accept the offer. A week later, she had ended their relationship over dinner.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Bill was in the driveway, closing the bed of his truck. Elsie got out, looking suspiciously at the CR-V parked to the side of the ranch-style house. "Back, Captain! Go on, Morgan!" she shooed the golden retriever and black lab before they smothered her.

"Over here, lads!" Bill whistled and the dogs ran into the garage. "Anna got here a few minutes ago. How are you? I hear congratulations are in order," he said, coming over to give her a hug.

"Thanks, Bill." She smiled, glancing at the car again. "Is Poppy here, too?"

"She sure is," he nodded. "But she's going for a ride in the truck with me while you girls have lunch."

She stepped through the front door, leaving her shoes by the welcome mat. Small feet pounded down the hallway while she took off her coat.

"Nana Elsie!" Poppy Bates raced around the corner, her blonde hair woven into a long braid. Elsie laughed, swinging her up into her arms. She kissed her multiple times, giving her a squeeze as they went back to the kitchen, relishing the feel of the little girl's arms around her neck.

"I missed you, my darling girl! Did you have a good Christmas? Did Santa bring you lots of presents?"

"Uh-huh! I got a new doll, and books, and a kitchen set! I like to bake lots of things, like Aunt Beryl does-"

"She's better than I am, no doubt," Beryl hung up her towel on the oven rack. She grinned cheekily at Poppy. "Ask Nana Elsie what you asked me a few minutes ago." Poppy pursed her lips as Elsie bounced her on her hip. Anna and Daisy sat at the round wooden table, looking on in amusement.

"Are you gonna marry Mr. Carson?" The way it came out, marry sounded like mawwy.

"Yes, I am," Elsie said, ignoring the others. "Does that answer your question, lass?" Poppy dropped her head to her shoulder, suddenly shy.

"Gone on, ask her," Anna prompted.

"Does he kiss you?" she asked, her voice muffled on Elsie's shirt. Elsie gave the others her best glare over the girl's shoulder. Beryl shrugged, pulling an innocent face.

"Yes, he does," she said, deciding to be honest with the child.

"Is it nice?"

Elsie put her down, giving her a playful swat on the behind. "All right, that's enough questions for one day."

"Oh, I think not," Beryl said in an ominous tone. Bill came into the kitchen.

"Are you ready to go, Popeye?" He winked. Elsie helped the little girl into her coat. Poppy and Bill left, the child chattering all the way down the hallway, and the room was suddenly quiet. Elsie sat down next to Anna, giving her a hug.

"I didn't think I'd see you today! How did you know I was going to be here?"

"Beryl called me," Anna said, raising an eyebrow. "I couldn't resist the invitation."

"I just came by so Dad could check the radiator on my car," Daisy said. "Then when they told me you were coming, I thought I'd stay and…visit." She smiled, showing her dimples.

"I see. It's good to see you, too." Elsie put her elbows on the table, folding her hands, trying not to smile.

"Oh! Let's see your ring!" Anna said, and they all crowded around her hand. The younger women oohed and raved.

"Well, he's got good taste, I'll give him that," Beryl said, the cheeky grin returning. "But then again, I already knew that." They started eating the plate of sandwiches.

"So…" Anna began. "How did he propose? Where were you?"

"Was it romantic?" asked Daisy.

"Let's dispense with those questions, and get to the heart of the matter," said Beryl, pouring a glass of white wine and handing it to Elsie. "So how long have you and Mr. Charles Carson been doing the nasty?"

Daisy choked on her sandwich and Anna snorted water out of her nose.

"What sort of question is that, Beryl Patmore Mason?" Elsie said, her jaw dropping. She couldn't stop the blush from covering her face.

"A direct one. You know me, I never beat around the bush."

Elsie shook her head as she sipped her wine. "I am not answering that very crude question."

"Good," said Anna, her face ablaze. "Because I don't want to hear the answer."

"Why else did you come?" Beryl asked her. "And don't try to deny it either, I know you're just as curious as I am!"

Anna covered her face with her hands. Daisy finished coughing and turned to Elsie. "Well, how long has it been then?"

"Daisy!" Elsie gasped. She looked at Beryl in an appeal to mercy. Her friend sat back, arms folded across her chest, her beady eyes fixed on her. Elsie sighed, closing her eyes. There was no escape. "Last June," she whispered.

"Well, I'm surprised it took him six months to propose," Beryl said, a satisfied smile on her face. Daisy grinned. Anna, on the other hand, looked stunned.

"How on earth did you manage that? I mean, without anyone finding out?" she asked. Elsie detected something in her expression that tugged at her heart. "Mary told me that Mr. Carson said you'd been with each other since last January."

A twinge of annoyance rippled through Elsie. He'd told Mary, of course he had. Steady on, there's nothing to get upset about. They're all bound to know sooner rather than later.

"I'm sorry you had to find out from her," she said quietly. "And as for the rest of it-" her cheeks burned anew- "we simply wanted to be private. He didn't want to cause a fuss at work. And neither did I."

Anna nodded, relaxing a little. She still had a line between her eyes. Elsie knew they would have to talk later.

"You did a marvelous job there," Beryl said, sipping her wine. "Hardly anyone noticed a thing. Except me, of course."

"What did you notice?" Elsie was curious. She had spent most of the last year compartmentalizing her life, so the separation between her private and professional lives was complete. She thought she had been successful.

Beryl sighed. "I think you forget I've known you for a good twenty-five years. And I've known old Charlie longer. I'm fairly observant, you know. The way you two would talk to each other these past months, the way you'd look at each other, little things, like he got you flowers-"

"That was on Staff Appreciation Day," Elsie said. "He bought Phyllis flowers as well."

"Yes, but hers were a nice bouquet that he obviously bought at the grocery store. Yours were from the florist, more personal."

"How sweet!" Daisy said, resting her head on her hand.

"And that day your car wouldn't start last spring, he spent half an hour getting rained on while he hooked the cables up and re-started your car."

"I never knew that," Elsie said, her eyes widening. "I was in a seminar, I thought Alfred did that!" She put her hand to her lips. Dear, sweet man.

"He stopped the lad before he got to the parking lot, said he'd do it himself. You remember, don't you, Anna?" Beryl said, turning to her. "We were talking at the front desk, and Mr. Carson came down and asked if Alfred had gone out. When you said he had, he went outside. Not two minutes later, here came Mr. Nugent back inside." Her eyes softened. "The managing partner wouldn't do that for just anyone."

"It's true," Anna said. Her eyes shone. "I don't know why I didn't notice that." She smiled, the small gap between her teeth showing. "You're a lucky woman, Mrs. Elsie Hughes. Almost as lucky as me."

"Thank you. I quite agree," Elsie said shakily. Anna took her hand.

"So can you tell us about the proposal?"

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

She held Poppy, fast asleep on her shoulder, as Anna opened the car door. Elsie bent over and carefully put her in. The child twitched, but kept on sleeping. Anna strapped her in, then closed the door as quietly as she could. The sun was low in the horizon.

"Bill wore her out. She ran around the fields with the dogs most of the afternoon," Anna said, watching her daughter, a tender expression on her face. She gave Elsie another hug.

"I want you to know…that I'm thrilled for you. As is John. And we're thrilled for Mr. Carson as well. Heaven knows he deserves some happiness, too," she said. "I'm not angry with you, truly." She looked down, pulling a stray hair over her ear. "I just…we've been close, you and I. I guess I thought you'd tell me if something was going on."

"I thought about telling you, several times," Elsie said. "But I didn't want to tell you, and then nothing to come of it." She bit her lip. "You've told me so many times in the past few years that you wanted me to be happy. I didn't want you to be disappointed or hurt if we had a falling out. Or to think ill of Mr. Carson, if it came to that. I was just trying to protect you."

"I don't need more protection." Anna said stoutly. "I've had disappointment. And hurt," she reminded Elsie. "I could've handled it if you told me, even if you would have broken it off later."

A lump rose in Elsie's throat. "The truth is," she whispered, "I have loved him for such a long time that I never thought he would feel the same way. I could have endured with a broken heart, alone. I've done that for years." She took a deep breath. "But I couldn't bear it if we had separated and…and everyone knew. I was protecting my own heart, not yours. Call me selfish."

Anna smiled, though she had tears in her eyes. "You are anything but that. You've given so much of yourself, not just to me, but to a lot of people. I agree with Beryl. You have a wonderful man, someone who loves you." She pulled her gloves out of her pockets and put them on. "If you'll take my advice, if he wants to spoil you," her eyes danced, "let him. You deserve it."

They embraced once more before going their separate ways.