August 1914

Once the cafe owner reached Henry Gowen's front stoop, she looked up at the height of his house, really taking it in for the first time since she'd first visited him. She asked herself what sort of illegal transactions had he made in order to build this house. But, it was in her nature to try and remember that Henry had been through a lot. He was a lonely child, a lonely ORPHAN. Just like Cody was. He was troubled and had fallen into the company of the wrong sort of people at such a young age that no one was around to teach him any better or to take care of him. She didn't want to judge Henry anymore. Instead…she wanted to UNDERSTAND him.

She decided that, tonight, they would only talk about their lives growing up or more of their dreams and aspirations in order to keep the peace. Talking business never got them anywhere and she made a pact with herself to change the subject should anything about the town council come up.

With one big deep breath, Abigail reached up to the door's big knocker but before she could grab hold of it, the door opened and Henry stood in the doorway, softly smiling at her. "I am glad you came." He told her, almost as if admitting that a part of him had expected her to stand him up.

"How did you know I had arrived?" She asked him while he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter his foyer.

"I saw out the window that you were walking up the pathway." He told her, hoping she did not suspect that he had been standing at the window, waiting for her for quite a while….which he had. Henry closed the door once she had entered the house and he moved to stand behind her. "May I remove your coat?" He asked her.

"Oh…Yes, of course." She turned her back to him a bit more to allow him to do so and her eyes fell to the staircase in front of her. She stared down at it as if watching herself there…months ago…lying under him while they-

Once her coat was off of her arms, she turned around to face Henry again while he placed it up on a coat rack he had near the front door. "Is it cold out there?" He asked her, doubting that it was at this time of year.

"No." She answered. "The weather is lovely."

"Then why wear such a heavy jacket?" Henry wondered aloud, switching his cane from his left to his right hand.

"I did not want anyone to see-" She stopped what she was saying briefly before just deciding to tell the truth. "...I didn't want anyone to see that I was dressed up this evening. They would have asked questions."

"Questions?" Gowen slightly raised an eyebrow though he knew exactly what she meant.

"I couldn't very well tell them that I was on my way to dinner with Henry Gowen, now could I?" She asked him.

"No. I suppose not." He tried to ignore how much her shame of him hurt. "Could you have told them you were off to see Frank?" He suggested that would be quite a good lie for her to come up with.

"No. Because Frank and I are no longer seeing each other." She told him plainly before walking passed him and heading for his living room down the hallway that was familiar to her.

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Don't lie, Henry." Abigail told him over her shoulder as he followed her.

They made it into the living room and she sat down on the sofa that faced the fire. Henry sat beside her before looking toward one of his housekeepers with a nod and she left to give them some privacy and to make sure dinner would be ready soon.

"What makes you think I am lying?" He asked.

"You have been advocating for Frank and I to end things for months." The blonde said. "Well, you were right." She admitted.

"About what?" He asked.

"Frank…I heard he did something dangerous today with Jack and Bill and he didn't even inform me. I already had a husband with a dangerous job. I cannot go through that again." She said, staring into the flames in the fireplace as if she could see Noah's face inside it. "Perhaps that is why I never let myself forgive Bill either. Deep down I knew that I wouldn't be able to accept his job so I used Nora and his small lies as excuses to stay away from him. When I met Frank, he felt safe. He was a pastor for goodness' sake. But now….after today, I–" Her eyes met Henry's and they were filled with tears which Henry could tell as the fire made them sparkle more than usual. "I don't know if I should forgive him."

"You don't have to." Henry told her. "He betrayed your trust and only showed that a piece of his past still lives in him. Do you really want to take that chance?"

She sighed a bit. "No…I don't think I do…It's all too much, Henry."

"What is?"

"Everything. Running the cafe…trying to raise Cody. You were right…Being the mayor was so stressful and overwhelming and I realize now that I don't want Cody to feel neglected by me. He deserves my full attention. Aside from the cafe, of course….But perhaps you becoming mayor again was a blessing. Now I'll have more time for them both. I don't want Cody to grow up to be just like-" She stopped herself from finishing her statement.

"Just like me." He finished it for her.

"Oh, Henry. I don't mean it like that."

"No, no. I get it." He looked down into the fire while Abigail looked at him. "I'm an Old Sourpuss." He repeated the name he had overheard a few of the children calling him at the carnival that day. A name that they had, no doubt, overheard Sam the peddler calling him when he visited at Christmas.

"You are more than that." She informed him. "You are very smart." She admitted. "And you are very capable of taking care of yourself. Independence is very admirable, Henry. I do not understand why you have maids and a cook when you have been able to build yourself from the ground up….I suppose if Cody were a LITTLE bit like you, it wouldn't be so bad." She softly smiled at him.

"That is sweet, Abigail." Henry told her, unsure exactly, of how to respond to that.

Just then, the housekeeper from before, stepped into the living room and nodded at Henry as if to let him know that the dinner table was ready for them.

"I hope you are hungry." Henry stood, leaning on his cane.

Abigail looked up at him before standing as well and smoothing out her teal colored skirt. "Yes, I am."

"Right this way." Henry gestured toward the door in the back corner of the living room that led to Henry's dining room.

The table was long, much too long for the both of them, and the dishes and glasses that sat upon a lovely patterned tablecloth were almost as fancy as the dishes Abigail had seen at Elizabeth's parents' house in Hamilton.

"Oh, Henry. This table is lovely. Did you have them do all of this just for the both of us?" She asked him as he pulled a chair out at the end of the table for her to sit in. She smoothed the back of her skirt down as she sat and Henry helped her push her chair in.

"No, no." He said as he sat at the head of the table, diagonally across from her. "This is how I eat every night." He pulled his own chair in and their hands could almost touch at the corner of the table where they met.

"All by yourself?" She asked him.

"Well…when I do eat." He let her know. "Sometimes I am too busy or I am not hungry. Otherwise, yes…I eat here at this big table by myself…I don't usually have people willing to come over. Well…there WAS Nora."

"May I ask what happened between you two?" Abigail unintentionally cut him off. "I can't imagine an accident in a storm pushing you two apart."

"It wasn't the accident." He said. "As you said, I was pushing people away at the time…She wanted to help me and I was less than kind when I spoke to her. Soon she just stopped coming to visit me in the hospital and it wasn't hard to figure out why."

"Oh, Henry. I am sorry. And I am sorry for being so harsh with you when you got back. You were having a rough time and just trying to recover and I am sure I did not help." She apologized sincerely.

"It's alright….I needed to hear it." He admitted.

She nodded a bit with a small smile as two of the maids brought them their entrees and elegantly served them their meal.

Abigail graciously thanked them before looking back to Henry. "How is your leg doing?"

"Oh…Just fine." Henry nodded a little before picking up his white cloth napkin and folding it over his right knee in his lap. "I will never walk the same again, unfortunately. But that's no surprise. I have had trouble with this leg since-"

"Since your mining accident when you were young. I remember, you told me." Abigail placed her napkin in her lap as well.

"Did I?" He asked her.

"Yes. You also told me that you lost your parents when you were 14." She reminded him.

"Ah, yes. I do remember mentioning that to you. Not many people know as much about me as you do." He told her, picking up his fork and knife as he began to cut his steak.

"Ah, ah, ah. We need to pray first." She told him.

"I don't really do that sort of thing." Henry continued to cut his food.

"Well, why not?" She asked him. "You don't want to thank the Lord for providing our meal?"

"I provided the food needed to make the meal, so no….I don't really believe in God the way the rest of you do here." He finished cutting his steak and looked at her plate. "Would you like me to-"

"Oh, no. I'm fine cutting it myself, thanks." She told him before folding her fingers together and bowing her head, closing her eyes and praying in her mind. When she finished, she whispered "Amen," aloud and began to cut her own steak. "This looks and smells delicious. Reminds me of my mother's home cooked meals." Abigail grinned and took the first bite of her steak with a hum.

"Did she teach you how?" Henry asked her. "Is that how you became so good at it?" He started to eat as well.

"Well, yes and no. She taught me a lot, yes. But mostly, I began to experiment in the kitchen once I married Noah. I learned new tricks and shortcuts and started to teach myself how to improvise so Peter would never complain about having the same thing twice in one week." She chuckled to herself at the memory. "We once had eggs every night for a week and a half and Peter never even noticed." She smiled. "There are so many different ways to cook eggs. It IS like having a different meal every time….Anyway, the important thing was to make sure none of us ever went hungry when we were struggling to make ends meet."

"I know what you mean." He nodded and looked down at his plate.

Abigail studied him for a moment before she spoke again. "What about your childhood? Do you remember your mother cooking a lot?" She asked him, just now starting to notice that he would shut down at the mention of his past. "I am sorry if I am asking too many questions about her. I understand if it's too painful to talk abou-"

"No….No, she didn't cook too much." He interrupted her.

"Oh." She looked up at the maid that was assigned to stand by in case of any spills or in case Henry would ask for more salt or champagne. The maid's eyes met Abigail's and they were blank….as if she were afraid to show any emotions in Mr. Gowen's home. The blonde tried to smile at the maid, hoping she would smile back, but she did not.

"She was very sick for most of my childhood." Henry actually opened up a little as he told her. "I tried helping my dad to take care of her before she died, but…I could never do anything right in his eyes. He was always disappointed in me. Told me I'd never amount to anything more than a-" He stopped himself and took another bite of food.

"More than a what?" Abigail wondered.

"Forget it." He shut down again. "How is the food?" He asked her softly, gesturing toward her plate with his fork.

"Oh…it's wonderful. Your cook should come work for me at the cafe." She joked.

Henry sent her a weak smile as she said that and continued to eat without speaking much as his thoughts filled with memories from his past that he had not thought about in a while.