<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=81439.msg3649901#msg3649901">Quote from: LadyMarisa on September 18, 2010, 12:59:08 pm</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> "I do know how to clean a fish at the very least."<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>"Well, I..."  He was surprised that she knew how to clean a fish and wanted to go out fishing.  It was an odd notion.  There were a few women fishing these waters, but it was mostly a man's work.  Hell, most of it was done by big operations now, not little dinky boats like his.  Still, the thought of sailing across the lake with a pretty little thing like her help some appeal.  He already knew what his dear sister would say thought, as she often did.  Sometimes he thought is name was Old Fool.<br/><br/>"Well, I don't rightly know.  Let me think on it for awhile."  Soon his sister rescued him.<br/><br/>--------<br/><br/>Two hours later, Edna knocked loudly on their young handyman's door.  "Wake up!  Tea is being served in five minutes!  I made sloppy joes, because I know how you boys love to eat."  She had tea by herself, since her brother thought it was a silly affectation.  She did fine with a tin of butter cookies.  Still, her mother had been from London, and raised her to run a proper household.  It didn't matter where one was.  One served tea at tea time.<br/><br/>The Irish girl had been settled in a room as well and she had promised to take her to town in the morning, to visit her friend Luke Bauman.  He collected all sorts of antiques and odds and ends.  He would treat the girl well, especially if he knew that she was watching him.  Luke had been sweet on her for years.  He was a handsome enough man with his high cheek bones, cleft chin and twinkling blue eyes, but he was ten years older than her.  For most of their lives she had been like a younger sister to the daft idiot, but a few years ago he had decided to get frisky on her.  Men were so fickle and changing.<br/><br/>In the parlor, Darien sitting uncomfortably an antique chair, with his cap removed.  He had on his favorite gray sweater and a little black bow tie.  His sister had insisted that he stick around for tea, for once, since he needed to get to know the lad if he was going to work for them.  He had tried to tell her that men did not need to talk or mingle to get some work done.  Hell, he had spent nearly thirty five years in blessed silence, fishing on the lake.