Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 110: Pondering and Play
"Come on, Martin!" Les motioned impatiently to his friend, who was slogging his way through the melting snow on the sidewalk. "It's not far, just another block."
"My feet are tired," the shorter boy groaned. "You're used to walking because you sell papers on the weekends."
Les rolled his eyes, but waited for Martin to catch up before continuing down Baxter Street at a slower pace. It was the weekend, which meant that he had already sold papers that morning, but it hadn't diminished his energy in the slightest, and he was eager to get back to the tenement so that he and Martin could spend the rest of the afternoon playing games and bumming around. The plan had been to have a snowball fight out back behind the tenement, but sadly the snow was already too slushy for them to make good on that scheme, so Les had suggested the rooftop instead. The weather was nice, they could be as loud as they wanted up there, and you couldn't beat the view.
After several more minutes and no small amount of urging, Les managed to get his friend all the way up to the top floor of the building, where they climbed the small flight of stairs that led to the rooftop. Before they'd even gone halfway up, Les could hear the sound of voices, and, sure enough, there were already several kids playing on the rooftop when he and Martin arrived.
Two boys around Les' own age were chasing a pair of younger-looking children whom Les had seen here and there around the tenement. Catching sight of the new arrivals, the tallest boy smiled. "Hey, want to come play?" he called out. "We just got started."
Glancing over at Martin and getting a nod of approval, Les answered, "Sure," and they walked over to join the rest of the group.
"I'm Caleb," the tallest boy introduced himself. "That's my brother Samuel. We're visiting from Boston. Our grandpa's the landlord here." He bounced the little boy on his back, cracking a slightly-amused smile as the younger one giggled at the unexpected jostling. "You might already know this rascal and his sister," Caleb continued, "but they're the Kogan twins, Jerry and Ginny."
"I'm Les Jacobs - my family lives on the second floor. And this is my best friend, Martin," Les motioned to the boy beside him. "So…" he gave his new acquaintances a curious glance, "what are you playing?"
"Knights versus trolls!" Jerry burst out happily.
"Jerry and Ginny were talking about a story that their grandmother told them," Caleb explained, humoring the younger children's antics with an indulgent look that didn't escape Les' notice. "I guess it was about a group of knights who had to defend their village against a bunch of invading trolls. Maybe you and Martin could each pick a side to join. It'll be a little more fun when it's not just two against two."
Les hesitated for a moment. He considered himself too mature for make-believe (being almost all of ten years old), but the prospect of making new friends - and getting to be one of the older boys for once - was appealing, even if the diversion was a bit juvenile for his tastes.
Making up his mind, he turned to his friend. "You can pick first, Martin," he offered.
"I'll be a troll," the shorter boy declared. "They're really strong and can throw rocks and eat people!"
"Yeah, they're lots more powerful than boring ol' knights!" Jerry agreed. "Come on," he beckoned with a gap-toothed grin. "You're with me and Caleb."
"Trolls may be stronger, but they aren't as smart as humans," Samuel spoke up for the first time, his voice slightly softer than his brother's but no less good-humored. Giving Les a smile, he added, "I think you'll be glad you sided with us - right Ginny?" he looked down at the younger girl, who bobbed her head enthusiastically.
"Plus, knights have armor and weapons," she added.
The statement jogged Les' memory, and he perked up a bit, remembering the pair of wooden swords that were stashed under his bed at his family's apartment. He'd willingly given up many of his childhood playthings over the years, leaving them behind for what he considered more mature pastimes, but he'd kept the swords, mostly because they were well-made and pleasing to look at, but also because he'd still pull them out on occasion to poke and prod his brother whenever Les was bored and David was being particularly stuffy.
One of the swords was actually David's. He'd been far too old for it to be an age-appropriate toy when it had first been gifted to him, but Les had been at the height of his sword fighting obsession at the time, and his brother had good-naturedly consented to being his sparring partner. They'd had more skirmishes than Les could count: in the dusty alleyways out back behind their family's tenement, under the shade of the maple trees at the local park, even, occasionally, inside the apartment when both of their parents were out and wouldn't be disturbed by the noise. David almost always lost (or more accurately, he almost always let Les win), but every once in a while, he'd parry back at full strength, and Les had relished the challenge of throwing all of his mismatched skill against his adversary, even if he generally preferred to come out the victor, fairly or not.
Over time, the sword fights had become fewer and further between, Les finding interest in other things, and David growing ever more preoccupied with the adult-like cares of life that Les still didn't fully understand. He'd always thought of his brother as an overly-serious person - an appraisal that only solidified as the years passed and David became increasingly more quiet and pensive - but remembering those moments of play, and the way his older brother had laughed and bantered and had made things fun despite the fact that their family was constantly being uprooted and moved from place to place, made Les feel a little wistful.
Leaving the thought behind, he told his companions about the wooden swords, offering to go downstairs to get them for the purpose of augmenting their play with some props. The group enthusiastically agreed to his proposal, so he hurried downstairs to his family's tenement, letting himself in and quickly locating the box where the swords were kept. After dusting them off, he returned to the rooftop, grinning as his playmates exclaimed in glee when they saw how handsome and sturdy-looking the swords were.
Battle commenced soon after that, the troll contingent setting up camp behind one of the raised support structures on the rooftop and the knights defending the clotheslines full of laundry which served as a makeshift village. Everyone in the group was lively, even the older boys giving themselves over to the theatricality of the game, and Les found that he didn't mind the role-playing at all. It felt good to have his wooden sword in his hand again and to let out his energy in pretend play.
The knights had just fended off a bold attack from the trolls (resulting in "damages" on both sides) when footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Les looked over to see his older brother stepping onto the rooftop with an armful of scrap wood in his hands. David had been working all morning on a project for Mr. Becker (installing some shelves in one of the downstairs units, if Les was recalling correctly); he'd even forgone selling papers that morning, simply walking Les to the distribution center and leaving him in the care of the agreeable newsies before heading back to the tenement to work.
The job must have been finished, for Les could see the relaxed line of his brother's shoulders and the slightly absent-minded look that only crossed David's face when he had completed a task and could let go of his focus for a moment. Catching sight of the group, he smiled politely, giving Les a little nod, then walked over to the corner of the rooftop where he set down the scrap wood before dusting his hands off and then turning around to head back towards the stairs.
Before he'd gotten there, though, an idea crossed Les' mind.
"Hey, David!" he called out. "Want to play?" He held out the wooden sword hilt-first.
His brother was clearly caught off guard.
"Play?" he echoed, giving the wooden blade a surprised look as though he had only just registered its familiarity. Les expected a quick brush-off to follow, some kind of remonstration about how David had other things to do and couldn't stop to get caught up in a game, but instead, the older boy's expression softened, and he actually reached out and took the sword in his hand, hefting it a little as though he was trying to get reacquainted with its weight.
"I haven't seen this in a while," he said quietly. "I kind of figured you only kept it around to poke me when you had nothing better to do."
"You're not wrong," Les shrugged. "But you could say I'm using it properly now." He gestured to the other sword that Samuel was holding in his hands. "Don't you miss our sword fights, David? Remember when we would spar out back behind the tenement?"
David laughed. "I remember. You used to go at me pretty hard. I had perpetual bruises on my shins."
"But it was fun, wasn't it?" Les prodded.
"Yeah," David agreed with a smile. "It was." He glanced around at the rest of the group. "So...what are you all playing?"
The concession - small and noncommittal though it was - incited an outburst of enthusiastic responses, and Les could see the delight in the grins of his new friends, the kind of expression that crossed younger children's faces when someone older was actually taking an interest in their game. He sometimes forgot that David wasn't as boring and unremarkable to everyone else as he was to Les, and had to grudgingly admit that he could see the appeal, for while his brother wasn't especially swaggering or charismatic, he was patient and approachable, and that was generally enough to endear him to younger children who weren't related to him and thus not subject to his overprotective big brother tendencies.
This situation turned out to be no exception. Two minutes (and more than a few earnest invitations) later, David had been thoroughly roped into the ensuing game of knights versus trolls. Noticing the lack of sufficient play weaponry to go around, he offered to see what he could do to solve the problem and quickly disappeared down the stairs again, an alacrity in his step that seemed less like the David Les had become familiar with and more like the old David from years ago who would fully - if deliberately - throw himself into an endeavor once an idea had taken hold.
He returned not long after that with a toolbox in hand and immediately walked over to the corner of the rooftop where he'd set down the scrap wood he'd brought up earlier. Curiously, the rest of the group gathered around, and David explained that he'd gotten permission from Mr. Becker to repurpose the scraps into some makeshift play weapons. He set about fashioning more swords first, and Les was surprised at how quickly and easily the wooden blades took shape in his brother's hands. It seemed that the last several months of doing odd jobs and basic carpentry had imparted a knack or at least a sense of confidence, and before long, two more swords lay finished at David's feet. They were rather simple-looking next to the Jacobs brothers' swords, but the Kogan twins pounced on them with glee and immediately began sparring.
It was at this point that Caleb pointed out that swords weren't really troll-appropriate weapons - unless they assumed for the sake of the story that they'd stolen the blades off of some human first. The conversation tangented a bit at that point, everyone chiming in with their opinion on what should be made instead. Martin thought that war hammers would be fitting, while Samuel asserted that the most accurate weaponry would actually be rocks and trees, in which case the troll contingent ought not to be outfitted with any arms at all other than whatever pebbles and leaves they could scrounge from the rooftop, an idea that was immediately shot down by the trolls, who wanted their own armament, folklorically-accurate or not.
Finally, Caleb suggested a form of rudimentary cudgel instead, and David agreed, taking a length of scrap wood in his hands and considering it for a moment before he began to work. It was a slower process this time, as he didn't have a model to reference, but he made do.
Once the two cudgels had been completed (and the last two trolls were properly armed), the game recommenced, all participants invigorated by the potential of their new weapons. If David had had any thoughts of sneaking away amidst the commotion, those thoughts must have been immediately dashed as he found himself the subject of a heated argument between the leaders of the knight and troll detachments, both of whom wanted to claim him for their side. True to form, he'd also forgotten to fashion a weapon for himself, and thus was rather poorly equipped to defend or extract himself from the altercation. His suggestion that he remain a neutral third party was loudly overruled, and Les found it amusing to watch his much taller and much older brother be simultaneously bickered about and ordered around by a group of kids half his size.
The verbal fracas eventually devolved into a spirited skirmish, and for some time after that, the only sound was that of clashing wooden weaponry and reckless battle cries. Eventually, both sides, growing weary, agreed to a five minute respite, and the trolls retreated to their camp to strategize while the knights returned to the village to do the same. David, who'd been temporarily forgotten in the excitement of the fray, made his way over to the corner of the rooftop where he began tidying up the scrap wood and putting the tools back into the toolbox.
In doing so, however, he inadvertently strayed too close to the trolls' territory, and the canny trio, led by Caleb, lost no time in apprehending him and loudly announcing their victory to their dismayed opponents on the other side of the rooftop. The knights indignantly protested that such a brazen move had gone against the terms of the agreed-upon respite, but their appeals to honor had no effect on the trolls, who, after some quick deliberation, immediately pressed their advantage by deciding to use their prisoner as a negotiating asset.
"You have in your possession three swords forged of pure steel that our ancestors won in combat decades ago and which your kind treacherously stole from our treasure trove within the mountain!" Caleb bellowed, deftly embellishing their previously simple battle narrative with a bit of backstory. "We propose the return of these weapons in exchange for the life of this metalsmith we have captured - " he poked David in the ribs with his cudgel, " - which is a more than generous offer!"
"Disarmament would leave our village completely vulnerable to attack!" Samuel shot back, answering his brother's bluster with some of his own. "What you ask for is unreasonable!"
"He could make you more weapons," Martin pointed out sensibly. "You wouldn't be going without for long."
"But you'd overrun us in the meantime while we were defenseless," Les objected. "Plus, we can't trust you lot - you already broke the rules of engagement once; who's to say you won't do it again?"
The mischievous smiles on the faces of the trolls seemed to indicate that some kind of double-crossing had, in fact, been in the cards, and Les was inwardly pleased that he'd called their bluff, but this knowledge did nothing to change the fact that he and his team were still at a disadvantage.
Samuel called a quick huddle, and a heated if hushed debate ensued. Ginny was set on saving David regardless of the cost, while Samuel was desperately trying to come up with some kind of counter-proposal. Les was of the opinion that they ought to fight fire with fire and insisted that they double-cross the trolls instead, but the other two frustratingly held to their knightly code of "honor" and refused to stoop to that, so they were at a three-way impasse.
"We grow tired of your dawdling," Caleb called out after several moments had passed. "If you do not agree to our terms, the prisoner shall be immediately - "
" - baked into a pie for eating!" Jerry whispered loudly.
" - baked into a pie for eating!" Caleb thundered, not missing a beat. "We're very hungry, so make your choice, and make it quick, or he dies!" Turning to his troll compatriots, he said with overly-theatrical seriousness, "Now, what do you think? Shall we serve him with a side dish of corn, or squash?"
"Cabbage or carrots might be better," David interjected meekly, and Les could tell that he was trying very hard not to smile, "seeing as corn and squash are both out of season right now."*
The trolls unanimously agreed to this reasonable suggestion, and it probably would have gone very badly for David right then if footsteps hadn't sounded on the stairway, heralding the approach of an unfamiliar woman who immediately smiled upon catching sight of the group at play.
"This looks fun," she remarked. "I'm sorry to have to bring an abrupt end to such a lively game, but Ginny and Jerry, your mother is looking for you; it's almost time for dinner."
"Aww, Mrs. Feinberg! We were just about to bake David into a pie!" Jerry protested.
"Your culinary endeavors will have to wait," she said firmly but kindly. Addressing Caleb and Samuel, she added, "Please take Jerry and Ginny home now, and then come back to Grandpa and Grandma's apartment to get cleaned up for dinner."
The boys were clearly disappointed, but they did as they were told, laying down their weapons and each taking one of the youngsters by the hand to lead them towards the stairs.
"Bye, David!" Caleb called out as they passed. "Bye Martin and Les! We'll see you around!"
The other departing children added their goodbyes, and Les realized that he and Martin ought to make tracks as well. The latter's home wasn't far away - only a block or so from the distribution center - but it would be getting dark soon, and he was going to be staying over at his friend's house for dinner, so it wouldn't be polite to show up late.
The other boy seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he, too, set down his cudgel. "We'd better get going," he said. "Ma's making chicken and dumplings for dinner, and if we don't get there soon, my brothers will eat it all." Les nodded, and they started for the stairs.
"Be careful on your way back," David cautioned, having clearly reverted to his big brother role now that the fun and games were over. "And make sure to thank Martin's mom for dinner, Les. I'll come by to walk you home at seven-thirty."
Les acknowledged the reminder with his usual perfunctory nod, and after bidding David (and the woman who was still standing by the stairway) goodbye, he and Martin took their leave.
"That was fun," Martin remarked as they hurried down the stairs. "Not what I was expecting, but still fun. And your brother's not bad! He sure made those wooden swords quickly, and I can't believe he stayed to play with us. None of my brothers would've done that - or if they had, they would've made us play whatever game they wanted."
Les shrugged. "David's all right sometimes." But despite his affected nonchalance, he couldn't keep a proud smile from stretching across his face.
The makeshift wooden weapons lay scattered across the rooftop where their owners had dropped them, and Davey's first impulse was to set about gathering them into a more orderly pile, but he checked the urge to do so and instead turned his attention to the woman standing by the stairway. It had taken him a moment to put two and two together, but a combination of clues had made him fairly certain that this was Mr. Becker's oldest daughter Judith, recently arrived from Boston.
She seemed to be equally sure of his identity, for she had a knowing look in her eye, as though she'd just stumbled upon a particularly fascinating secret.
"So," she said, breaking the silence, "you're David. I've been wondering when I would get a chance to meet you; Caleb and Samuel, it seems, have beaten me to that privilege. I'm Judith, the oldest of the Becker sisters."
"It's nice to meet you, Judith," Davey smiled. "Caleb and Samuel seem like really good-hearted boys. They were great with the younger kids."
"They're both gregarious in their own way," Judith acknowledged. "It's wonderful they've had a chance to reconnect with my family and our friends on this trip since we don't come up to New York very often, despite the fact that my husband and I grew up here."
"Will you be visiting his side of the family as well?" Davey inquired.
"Yes; in fact, that's why we won't be present when you come over for dinner later this week. We have a previously-made engagement with John's parents." Judith smiled, looking apologetic. "I'm sure the boys will be sorry not to have the chance to see you again; they're already sad enough to miss out on another meal of Sadie's soup, despite the fact that she's made it for them twice already! And I'll admit that I'm a bit disappointed, myself; my sister has been fretting over this meal for quite some time, and I know she's anxious for it to go well. I haven't had a chance to see her in the role of hostess yet, and I'm curious as to how she gets along; she seems to think that she doesn't have a knack for it, but I suspect she's being a bit too hard on herself."
"That wouldn't surprise me," Davey agreed. "I don't think she grasps how capable she really is."
Judith acknowledged his assertion with a little smile. "My sister can be self-deprecating at times," she agreed, "and she's been through some things which have, unfortunately, reinforced the idea that she's only a silly, unremarkable girl - even if that's by no means the truth."
There was clearly more that was being left unsaid, and Davey was sorely tempted to investigate the matter further, but it seemed impolite to pry, especially when he'd only just met Judith.
"I don't understand how anyone could think that about her," he said instead, trying to be polite but finding himself unwilling to let the statement pass unchallenged. "She's far from unremarkable."
The woman gave him a slightly-amused look. "From what she tells me, you're rather remarkable yourself."
Davey was taken aback.
She said that...about me?
"She certainly did!" Judith affirmed, and Davey ducked his head in embarrassment, realizing he'd unintentionally spoken the thought aloud.
"What's the matter?" the woman teased. "Did she sell you short?"
Oh, she was definitely Sadie's sister.
"Better, actually," Davey replied, trying to shake off his flusteredness. "I mean, that's better than I deserve." Quickly, he changed the subject. "How long will your family be staying in Manhattan? You must have a lot of people excited to see you between both sides of the family."
"We'll be here through the first week of January," Judith answered. "The boys are on winter recess from school, and John was able to take holiday leave from work, so the timing was perfect. We won't be returning to New York again for some time, so we wanted to make our visit count. Speaking of timing," she glanced over her shoulder, "I'd better get back to my parents' apartment; my mother was already starting to put dinner on the table." She smiled. "It was pleasant to make your acquaintance, David. I hope I'll have the opportunity to talk more with you in the future."
They exchanged goodbyes, and Judith took her leave.
Alone on the rooftop, Davey applied himself to the task of tidying up, feeling a sense of weary satisfaction descend upon him for the first time that day. He'd gotten up early to meet Mr. Becker for briefing on the day's project, which had taken all morning and a good part of the early afternoon, and by the time it was complete, he had been looking forward to returning to his family's apartment to change out of his work clothes and read or perhaps rest for a while.
He hadn't expected to be waylaid by his little brother inviting him to, of all things, play.
It had been months - if not longer - since the last time they'd done anything together for fun, and Davey, despite his weariness, had found himself quickly accepting Les' invitation. It didn't hurt that he'd also been surrounded by a small cadre of children clamoring for his participation. Fitting in readily with a group of peers wasn't easy, but with kids, it was different, and Davey had always gotten along well with kids - his brother, perhaps, being the exception.
The spirited (if slightly chaotic) game had been more fun than he'd expected, even if his main role had been that of a weapons supplier and bargaining chip rather than a full-fledged player. Watching his younger companions lose themselves in their imaginative roles and in the story they'd made up was a refreshing change of focus from the all-too-real responsibilities that were constantly on his mind, and it had been nice to forget those cares for a while. Within the temporary construct of the game, he could leave behind the unanswered questions (What had Jack decided to do about the ultimatum Pulizter had issued earlier that week? Had it been right to advise the newsie leader not to give in and to listen to his conscience instead, or was that being too idealistic? How were the remaining sick newsies doing back at the lodging house? Were they getting enough to eat? Why had Jojo been struggling so much with tutoring lately? His enthusiasm hadn't flagged, but he'd had a difficult time with the most recent lessons, so maybe Davey's pedagogical technique needed some work…) to simply allow himself to be present in the moment instead.
Meeting Judith Feinberg had been an unexpected surprise, as had been her brief and oblique reference to Sadie's past. Sadie herself had made mention of a difficult season that her family had endured within the past few years, but she'd shared nothing more specific than that, and Davey wondered if both sisters were citing the same event, or if there had been two separate instances.
At any rate, it appeared that there was something underlying Sadie's persistent reluctance to accept compliments and words of honest admiration when it came to her commendable qualities. He supposed that to someone who didn't know her, she might appear silly and unremarkable at first (and reluctantly had to admit that the descriptor wasn't too far off from his own first impression of her); she had a carefree, lighthearted demeanor that could easily be misconstrued as flippancy by someone unacquainted with her depth, and she was occasionally too impulsive and sometimes overstepped with her teasing...
But those superficial qualities hid a gentle sweetness of spirit and a passionately kind heart, and if Sadie could be criticized for self-deprecatingly deflecting attention away from herself, on principle she ought to be lauded for the fact that she was conversely very attentive to the feelings and needs of others, even if she occasionally misstepped in her attempts to respond to them.
And there was the matter of her cleverness, too. That she was quick-witted went without saying, and though her personality did not lend itself easily to studiousness, the aptitude and intelligence were certainly there. So, too, were her occasional sparks of insight that came, Davey suspected, not from book reading or from quiet reflection, but rather from experience and from Sadie's willingness to consider the opinions and thoughts of others while adjusting her own way of thinking if she found herself in error. Her own natural manner and approach might not have been uncommon, per se...but her humble adaptability certainly was.
It bothered him a little that Sadie would so readily accept a third party's imperceptively critical assessment, but, not knowing her history or the experiences that had engendered her assent, Davey reasoned that it would be best to refrain from jumping to conclusions or from simply demanding that she cease giving credence to such negative opinions. That didn't mean, however, that he was going to stop expressing his own opinion of her. It wasn't a matter of flattery or even of consolation; it was simply a matter of speaking the truth. Sadie was a remarkable girl. There was ample evidence to substantiate that view...
...and apparently (if Judith's words were to be believed), Sadie thought that he was remarkable, too.
Of course, the descriptor must have been only referring to his role in the newsboy strike, and nothing more. There wasn't anything distinguishing about him aside from that brief brush with fame, and truth be told, he'd almost stumbled into the strike as much as he'd helped to lead it…
But if she'd thought his part important enough to mention, and if she truly found it noteworthy, he wasn't going to complain about that.
Setting the thought aside, Davey gathered up the last of the wooden weapons, then carried the arsenal over to the corner of the rooftop, where he placed the pieces that he'd made on top of the pile of scrap wood. The pair of wooden swords belonging to him and Les he tucked under his arm as he surveyed the rooftop one last time to make sure that he wasn't leaving anything behind.
Satisfied that things were in order, he picked up the toolbox and headed towards the stairs, making his way down to the third floor and letting himself into the landlord's office. Philip Becker was gone, no doubt at dinner with his family, so Davey simply left a note on his desk thanking him for the building materials before replacing the toolbox in the supply closet.
As he passed by the landlord's desk on his way to the door, his eye was drawn to a cup of tea sitting about a quarter-full, which he immediately recognized as Sadie's, even though there was nothing obvious to identify it as such. She'd been bringing the beverage over to the office with regularity ever since the cold weather had set in, and though she always made herself a full cup, she invariably never finished it all. Davey could easily imagine her sitting there at the desk, her hands curled around the drink as she reviewed a stack of paperwork for the tenement or chatted with her father before suddenly getting distracted by some interruption and then hurrying off, leaving her tea unfinished once again.
The simple thought that she'd been there brought a smile to his face, and he reached over to pick up the teacup, taking it over to the small wash basin at the back of the landlord's office to rinse out the inside of the vessel. Sadie had fretted once before about the stains left behind on the china when she'd forgotten to finish her tea, so this way she wouldn't have a disagreeable surprise waiting for her whenever she returned.
After he'd dried the teacup and set it back in its place, Davey let himself out of the landlord's office and made his way slowly down the stairs. In just a few days, he would be dining with the Becker family...but for now, his own family and his own dinner awaited him.
A/N: *"But how does a city boy like Davey know this random bit of agricultural knowledge?" you may (quite reasonably) be asking. In answer, I present Exhibit A: "We could hold a hoedown in here and no one would be the wiser." (I always thought that was an interesting choice of analogy, so I had to give it a little nod here. Davey apparently just knows (or knows about) things. :P) Also, the wooden swords are a reference to the 1992 version of Newsies - though the backstory accompanying said weaponry is of my own imagining ;)
We'll be checking in with our favorite trouble-making newsie in the next chapter, but in the meantime, please do let me know what you thought of this one! I know there's a lot of seemingly mundane interactions going on here, but there's supposed to be some pretty important character development (with a dash of plot exposition) layered in as this story continues to build, so hopefully that's coming through and you're not getting too bored during these less-dramatic segments (especially since Davey's arcs are more character-driven than plot-driven). I don't write throwaway/filler chapters, I promise. ;)
Finally, if you're curious to see a little more of Judith and the rest of Sadie's family, there is an installment entitled "Around the Dinner Table" in Interstices that takes place immediately after this chapter and offers a bit more of Sadie's backstory, so if you're interested, please check it out! :)
