A/N: Okay, folks - this is the SECOND update today, so if you haven't read Chapter 3 yet (with Charles and Daisy's arrival in the US) then back on up and check that one out first! :)

In this chapter, my American readers will recognize some typical children's shopping locations, if you have kids anyhow. Charles's reaction to the first one was my reaction the first time I was forced to shop there. Ew. lol

This will be my last update for a few days, so please accept my apologies in advance. Much love to all you kind souls who are leaving reviews for this fic, I'm completely blown away by them all, truly. xxx

CSotA

August 20, 2014

"Please be careful with that!" Charles shouted, cringing as the movers struggled with the placement of the piano.

"Would you like it centered in front of the window?" one asked, gasping for breath.

Charles looked to Daisy, who nodded. "Yes," he answered aloud.

The rest of the furniture that had been shipped over was already set in place, and once the piano was repositioned and the forms signed, Charles and Daisy headed out for the day.

"Are we going to the mall?" Daisy asked excitedly.

"Yes, I suppose we must," Charles answered. "We'll go to the places Auntie Edith told us about, hm? You're growing too fast, you know," he added. "Good thing you think it's fun to buy clothes."

"Then we can see my new school."

He nodded. "Yes - and don't forget, you'll have to call Edith 'Ms. Crawley' when you're at school."

Daisy just giggled. "That sound so silly, Papa. But I will."

Charles pulled off the highway and found the mall with the aid of his GPS. He found a spot in the shade and parked, reminding himself once again that he needed to obtain his own vehicle sooner rather than later. This one they'd borrowed from Mary was fine, but it was a bit small for his six-foot-plus frame. He pressed the button to lock the car and set the alarm, then took Daisy's hand as they headed through the Food Court entrance.

Charles felt a tug on his arm and looked in the direction that she was pointing.

No … he thought. She can't be serious.

"Papa, there it is," she whispered excitedly.

She's serious. Oh, Lord give me strength.

"That's it - Marigold said they have lots of pink and glittery things. Let's go!" She practically pulled him into the store, and he felt momentarily blinded.

"Welcome to Justice," the much-too-perky salesgirl chirped. "Is this your first time here?"

"Good guess," Charles smirked. He looked down at Daisy. "You have twenty minutes, young lady."

She let go of his hand and tore off in the direction of the brightest display of things Charles had ever seen.

Fabulous.

Twenty-three minutes later, Charles found himself the proud carrier of two drawstring bags full of pink, purple, fuzzy, and glittery tops and a handful of pairs of jeans.

"Please tell me we're done?" he pleaded.

"No, Papa. I need Marigold's boots and that's where they came from." She pointed across the mall to The Children's Place, a storefront that Charles found almost as revolting as the one he'd just escaped … but, he silently allowed, a bit less fluorescent.

"Of course you do," he whimpered, causing her to laugh hysterically. "This isn't fair, you know. You're actually enjoying my pain. Since when did you become so interested in clothes, anyhow?"

"Papa! It's not that bad. Please?"

He sighed, looking into those big, blue eyes that he knew he could never deny. And she was right - she did need some shoes that actually fit. "Fine, lead on."

By the time they got back to the car, Daisy was on cloud nine. Charles just had a headache.

"Off to the school now, petal. I hope you're as happy about that as you were about the shopping."

She just shook her head and yawned. As Charles pulled out of the parking lot, he caught Daisy's reflection in the rear-view mirror and saw her sit back in her seat and start to doze off.

Poor thing. It's been a busy few weeks. He put the radio on and found a classical station, then put the GPS setting on mute and mounted his phone to the windshield so that he'd still see it but it wouldn't bother Daisy.

Thirty minutes later they pulled in at the school. Charles reached into the back seat and shook Daisy's leg until she woke up.

"Papa? Are we there?"

"We are," he said quietly. He watched as his little girl reached up and rubbed her eyes, noting the red mark on her forehead where it had been resting against the window. Her hair was a bit mussed and she yawned hugely; it occurred to him in that very moment, as it often did at the strangest times, just how much he loved his little girl. He just stared at her for a moment, and she caught him out.

"What is it, Papa?"

"Nothing," he smiled. "I just love you, petal."

"I love you, too, Papa. Can we go in now?"

"Of course," he answered.

Sarah looked at the video monitor in annoyance when it chimed its alert that someone was ringing the buzzer at the school's entrance. She didn't recognize either the man or the child, so she figured they must be the family Edith had mentioned. She held the release button down, and returned to her paperwork as soon as she saw the man reach for the handle and turn.

"Good afternoon," came the man's deep voice. Its depth startled Sarah, who looked up with interest.

"Hello. Mr. Carson, I presume? Ms. Crawley asked me to cover her here for the moment - she'll be right back." Edith had, in fact, gone to fetch coffee and tea for the four staff who'd been here since seven in the morning. But this Mr. Carson doesn't need to know that, she thought.

"Yes, and thank you." He and Daisy sat on the chairs by the desk, and waited. After a few seconds, his ears picked up on the sound of music emanating from somewhere down the corridor. He wondered briefly if it was on during the school year, or only when the building was empty of students.

Two minutes later the doorbell chirped again. Sarah pushed the button and then abruptly got up and headed into one of the other offices.

Daisy whispered into his ear, "She seems unkind."

"Daisy," Charles admonished, "don't be rude."

Daisy just nodded, thinking she hoped that wasn't the 'Miss Baxter' Edith had told them about.

"Uncle Charlie!" Edith's voice sounded. "I'm glad you both made it. You survived your trip to the mall, then?" She smirked at him, knowing exactly what she and Marigold had talked him into. "Glitter, pre-teen rock, and neon aside, of course?"

"Yes, thank you for that," he said sarcastically, giving her a pointed look. "But, yes, this young lady should be well outfitted for the next several months." He had stood to reach for the tray of coffees, which Edith gladly handed over.

"Thank you," she breathed, still juggling a briefcase, a shopping tote, and her handbag. "I hate to make more than one trip if it's not necessary, but I think my wrist was about to fall off."

"You don't have someone else to send for coffee?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

Edith laughed. "That's not how I operate, Uncle Charlie," she said fondly. "I don't like to staff out errands when I've got the free time to do them myself. Besides," she added, grabbing the one of the two biggest cups out of the tray, "I was the one who needed it the most."

"Coffee," he tut-tutted. "Already an American, I see."

"Ha! Don't knock it until you've tried it. Why don't you two come with me as I drop these off, and then we'll get you the necessary transfer paperwork?"

"Sound good," Charles asked, looking at Daisy. She nodded and gave him a little smile, excited to see the rest of her new school. She mouthed something at him, and he smiled. "I don't think so … Edith, is Marigold here?"

"No, I'm sorry, Daisy. But after I get out today, why don't I pick you up and bring you over to the house for an hour or two? Marigold is home with the babysitter, but she'd love to see you."

Charles took a deep breath, a bit concerned about that plan. "Perhaps, if she wants to, I should go along," he said.

But Daisy tugged on his hand and shook her head.

"I'll tell you what," Edith proposed to Daisy. "You and Marigold seemed to get along pretty well the other night, didn't you?" Daisy nodded. "Well, then, why don't we try it out," she said, glancing at Charles. "If you feel uncomfortable, Daisy, you can ... bring me Marigold's blue stuffed puppy that sits on her bed," she decided with an encouraging nod. "It'll be our little signal that you need your Papa to come over."

Daisy nodded again, beaming.

"Well, then," Charles said, "sounds like a plan. I need to start looking for a new vehicle, too. Maybe I could use the time for that," he pondered.

"Wonderful idea," Edith replied, heading into her office and plopping her bags on the desk. "I'll take that now," she added, indicating the tray.

"I've got it just fine, you just lead the way."

"Fine then - thank you. Alright, this little corridor heads to the other offices: school nurse, guidance counselor, teacher work space, and media storage." She stopped off in a tiny copy room, where the woman who'd been at the front desk when the Carsons arrived was running off a set of worksheets.

"Daisy, this is Miss O'Brien. She'll be one of your teachers this year!" Edith said brightly.

"Hello, Daisy," Sarah said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Are you looking forward to starting in a new school?"

Daisy only nodded.

"Daisy doesn't speak much, Miss O'Brien," Edith explained carefully. "But I can assure you," she added with a smile to Daisy, "her marks from her other school were quite high, and she is a hard worker."

"Well, that's good then," Sarah replied. "I'll see you on Monday, then. You'll have me for English and Social Studies."

"Thank you, Miss O'Brien," Charles added, shaking the woman's hand. "I'm Charles Carson, Daisy's father. I am glad we had a chance to meet you today. It's been a rather eventful time for us, these past couple of months. It does help to meet you ahead of time ... takes away some of the unknown, you could say. And," he added, with a glance at Edith, "I think one of these cups is yours?"

"Of course!" Edith took the smallest cup off the tray and handed it to Sarah. "I hope it's not been steeping too long," she added, and Charles saw the tea bag tags hanging out of the paper cup. He tried not to shudder at the thought - stale tea leaves, in mass-produced bags, steeped in a paper cup. How perfectly awful.

"It usually has been by the time I get my hands on it, but beggars can't be choosers," Sarah said. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. We're off!" As Edith led the way, Charles noted they were at the nurse's office next - and the apparently source of the music he'd heard earlier.

"Ms. Hughes," Edith said, peeking her head into the office at a woman crouched down on the floor, her back to the door, evidently sorting something. "I have reinforcement in the form of caffeine!" She removed the other extra-large cup from the tray and placed it on the woman's desk.

"Oh, thank God," Ms. Hughes replied, not turning around. "Just give me a minute ... " She started muttering to herself, and Charles smiled at the clear, Scottish lilt to her voice. "Barrow, MacGregor, Robinson, Williams … there!" She checked something off on a list and grabbed the countertop above her head, pulling herself up to a standing position and stretching as she turned around.

"Oh!" Ms. Hughes said, startled. "I didn't realize we had company! I'm so sorry," she added, flushing faintly.

"May I introduce Charles and Daisy Carson," Edith said, indicating them with a wave of her hand. "Charlie is my uncle - well, sort of - and Daisy is his daughter. I believe I told you about them last week?"

"Of course," the nurse said warmly, reaching her hand out to shake Daisy's. "I'm pleased to meet you, Daisy. Edith's daughter, Marigold, has spoken very highly of you. I've no doubt you'll be thick as thieves," she added, a twinkle in her eye.

Daisy smiled brilliantly, nodding.

"And Mr. Carson," she said, turning her gaze to the father. Her breath caught in her throat for a minute as she took in his appearance: tall, broad-chested, salt-and-pepper hair, quite nicely dressed .. oh, good heavens, Elsie. "Pleased to meet you," she said after a few seconds, offering him her hand. "Elsie Hughes, school nurse. Obviously."

Charles shook her hand, noting that she gave quite a firm handshake - none of that flimsy, feminine business for this one. He met her starkingly brilliant, blue gaze, noted the auburn-colored, messy bun in which she'd tossed her hair and the cartoon-print scrub top she was wearing.

"Beethoven?" he uttered.

"I beg your par- oh, yes," she said with a little laugh, "that it is. Are you a fan of classical music, Mr. Carson?"

"I'm a fan of anything that isn't played in that mall I was victim to today," he said, earning a full laugh from the diminutive but adorable woman in front of him.

"Then we're birds of a feather," Elsie smirked, raising her eyebrow. She then realized she was staring at him and turned abruptly toward her desk, reaching for her coffee to give herself something to do. What the hell is the MATTER with you, Elsie Hughes? Did you just FLIRT with a new parent?

"And fellow countrymen," he added. "Do I detect a Renfrew accent?"

Elsie whipped back around to face him. "How on Earth did you know that, Mr. Carson?"

Charles laughed, a deep, full sound that Elsie found she rather liked. "My grandmother was from Paisley. You sound just like her. It's ... familiar, I suppose," he added lamely. Comforting was the word that had actually come to his mind, but he dared not say that. "I've not heard it in quite a while. It's quite nice, to tell the truth."

"I see. Well, yes, you're right of course. I lived there until I was about seventeen, before moving to England and then, eventually, here. I don't often miss Scotland, to tell the truth, but when we have a good, deep rain here I sometimes feel as though I'm back again."

A brief look of sadness passed through her eyes, not unnoticed by Charles.

"And now I need to stop rambling," she said, embarrassed, "as I am sure you have other things to accomplish today."

"No, it's fine," Charles said quietly. "And I understand what you mean about being reminded of home."

She continued to stare at him despite all attempts not to, then sipped on her coffee to give herself something to do.

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten." He said something to Daisy, who reached into the backpack she'd brought and pulled out her Epi-pen. She handed it to Charles, who checked to make sure it was the new one and handed it to Elsie. "We have this for you."

Elsie reached out for it and her fingertips brushed his hand. Charles felt something akin to an electric shock and pulled his hand away quickly, almost dropping the box.

"Tree nuts or bees?" Elsie asked, looking at Daisy. But the girl just shook her head and smiled.

"Neither," Charles said with a smirk. "Of all things, peaches."

Elsie's gaze shot back to Daisy's, startled. "Me, too," she said, and Daisy's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You're kidding!" Charles exclaimed, shaking his head. "And birch, too? That's what Daisy's is - birch-pollen allergy."*

"You know your allergies, Mr. Carson," Elsie said approvingly. "Yes, that's it exactly. But, oddly, I'm not allergic to anything else, such as apples or cherries, that many people with birch-pollen are. Well, just birch tree pollen, of course. How about you?" she asked Daisy, hoping that somehow this non-verbal girl would rescue Elsie from her own uncharacteristic chattiness.

Daisy shook her head quickly, then beckoned to her Papa. He crouched down and tilted his head to her, and Elsie's heart warmed as Daisy's hands grasped his head so that she could whisper in his ear.

Charles chuckled and whispered, "Is that necessary?" But Daisy only nodded, so he stood back up and looked at Elsie sheepishly. "Daisy is happy to hear that, and would like you to know - for what I am sure are her own good reasons - that cherries are her favorite fruit." He shook his head a bit, wondering why in the world he had to communicate that particular bit of information.

"Well, Daisy, that's good then," the nurse said to her, "because I make an award-winning cherry tart."

The girl's eyes lit up with excitement, and all three adults laughed.

"Uncle Charlie is rather partial to sweets of any kind, so I'd watch out around him," Edith joked, noting how her comment made Elsie flush. "Alright, then, we've still got to head down and see Phyllis - Miss Baxter," she explained to the Carsons.

"Well, I thank you for the coffee and the introduction," Elsie said warmly. "I'm leaving around four o'clock - do you need me to lock up, Edith?"

"If you would, please," Edith said gratefully. "I'm out at three-thirty and, apparently, supervising a play date," she said, smiling at Daisy.

"Sounds good," Elsie said. "It was a pleasure meeting you both, Mr. Carson," she added, extending her hand out to Charles once again, who shook it gratefully and wondered somewhere in the back of his mind why that made him so very happy.

"It's Charles - please," he said.

"And I'm Elsie," she replied with a smile. "It's a small town … I'm sure I'll be seeing you driving or walking about soon."

"Well, I've got to go shopping for a new car today, so hopefully you do see me driving about."

"Oh? Looking for anything in particular?"

"Not really, no," he said. "Have you a suggestion?"

"All-wheel drive," she chuckled, "if you ever want to get out of your driveway come winter, that is."

"I'll take that under advisement. Thank you, Ms. Hughes." How does she know where we live?

"Elsie," she reminded him.

"Elsie, then," he said softly, completely oblivious to the smile that was appearing on Edith's face as she watched this exchange.

Elsie nodded, then turned to sit at her desk as the other three headed off to the guidance area. She plopped down in the chair, then opened the lid and took a huge sip of coffee.

Well, well … what an interesting man. She picked up Daisy's Epi-pen and twirled the box in her hand, already planning a trip to the farmstand for fresh cherries.

A fresh-baked tart IS a nice 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, Elsie. And given that they've just moved in next door to you, you really SHOULD bring something by.

The thought made her stomach flutter.

**Birch pollen allergy is common to people of Northern European descent. I have a Scottish friend who has it, and is only allergic to peach and apple skin – nothing else usually associated with it – and once the fruits and skins are cooked, the threat of anaphylaxis disappears. Weird, huh?