Maril reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear Owen, down the hall at the front door, say, “Just this way Mister Hinkelton. I will show you to the tea room. Miss Maril will be right down.”
Nora, who had followed her down the long flights of stairs, nudged her lightly on the shoulder and mouthed, “Go on,” with a big smile. She was unreasonably excited for Maril to have a visitor. It probably said something about her age, although Maril wasn’t in the mood to figure out exactly what.
Maril sighed, rolled back her shoulders, and flipped nonexistent wrinkles out of her dress. She stepped off down the hall towards the entertaining tea room.
Owen looked mildly relieved and smiled at her when he saw her coming down the hall. There had been some days when she had left the visitor waiting in the entertaining tea room for longer than was deemed proper.
“Would you like me to tell Miss Vicki that you are ready for refreshments?” Owen asked as she stepped from the wood-paneled hall into the tea room adorned with heavy curtains and plush rugs. It would have been cramped if it had had human-sized furniture in it, but with furniture designed for gnomes and the high ceiling like the rest of the house, it was almost cozy. Or it would have been if it didn’t so often have visiting strangers in it.
“Yes please, and please let Vicki know that I am excited to try her new recipe for lemon raspberry scones.”
“Certainly miss,” he nodded to her and to Mister Hinkleton, who was seated on a small couch in the tea room. Then he turned and stepped out of the arched doorway to head deeper into the house towards the kitchen. Maril was left alone with the visitor.
Maril forced herself to smile at Mister Hinkleton and attempted to feign gracefulness as she walked across the room. She perched on the edge of a stuffed, but not terribly comfortable, purple chair across the low table from him.
He was sitting on a couch covered in the same purple fabric as the chair she sat in. She knew from experience that neither piece of furniture was particularly comfortable. He was tense, not touching the backrest or the armrest, with his hands fretting in his lap. As a fellow gnome, he was only slightly taller than Maril although he was not as slender as her. He had feathery brown hair that looked like it was just long enough to pull up in a ponytail on top of his head if he wanted to keep it out of his way. But right now it was down and partially obscured his face. His eyes glanced around looking at the paintings of bridges and towers, the thick rug, the carved coat tree, the corner cabinet filled with random trinkets. But not at Maril.
Maril was briefly sympathetic for him, realizing that he was even more anxious than she was. Maybe he had also been informed that he was going for a visit without his opinion being asked for or considered.
“Good morning Mister Hinkleton. It’s so good of you to come and visit. I hope that your trip over was pleasant,” she started off, knowing that she sounded stiff and formal and not really caring.
Mister Hinkleton shifted in his seat and switched from looking around the room to mostly staring at his hands, “Yes, Miss Leyfinder the trip over was delightful. The weather is beautiful today.” His eyes moved to look out the large bay window at the end of the table between them.
After a few seconds of watching Mister Hinkleton stare out the window, Maril also turned to gaze past the excessive mauve curtains to the outdoors. The view was nice, framed in trees adorned with blobs of pink flowers and a row of neatly trimmed shrubs between the front wall of her house and the cobbled street. The neighboring house on the other side of the street was also surrounded by manicured landscaping, not a twig out of place. Even the street, a less-traveled side street, was clean and well maintained. The cobbles were a uniform grey and, for the most part, level and smooth with each other. Nothing like the roads out in the farming districts, full of ruts and loose stones.
A bird flitted into the window’s view and caught Maril’s attention. It was a rusty red color and fluttered in front of the window for a few seconds before perching on the edge of the windowsill. After it landed, it sat there, mostly still, staring to the side. Maril followed its gaze to the tree framing the left side of the window, to a drooping tree branch heavy with a clump of pink flowers, and on to a small similarly colored butterfly resting on the flowers.
Maril risked a glance at Mister Hinkleton and found that he was also staring at the butterfly. It was on his side of the window which had him facing mostly away from her. She decided to let him be distracted as long as possible, less small talk to make. At least Mister Hinkleton was not as perpetually chatty as some of the others had been. She didn’t mind conversation, but so far none of the suitors had bothered to listen to her, only talk at her. Slowly she pushed herself farther into the chair and relaxed a little before returning her gaze to the window.
The red bird was gone, but the butterfly still slowly fanned its wings as it sucked up nectar from the thickly bloomed tree. A large iridescent blue beetle appeared on the windowsill, having climbed up the wall of the house into view. It opened its wings, fluttering them in place.
Mister Hinkleton shifted startling Maril, who then sat up straighter and looked at him expectantly. But he was just getting more comfortable, leaning on the armrest of the couch and stretching out his legs.
Maril stopped herself from laughing and just smiled, this wasn’t going to be too bad if they could just sit and look out the window for most of the visit. She returned her gaze to the beetle which had begun pacing back and forth on the windowsill.
There was a knock from the doorway. Maril jumped. She righted herself from the relaxed slouch she had sunk into and spun to look towards the hall. Owen was standing in the arch of the doorway with a tray that seemed severely undersized in one of his large hands. The other hand was held near the doorway’s trim where he had knocked on it gently with a knuckle. “Are you ready for refreshments?” he asked.
Maril exhaled, releasing some of the tension from being startled. “Yes please, I think we are ready.” She looked up at Mister Hinkleton and found him returned to his original posture, awkward and stiff, with a slight blush on his cheeks.
Owen walked over and folded himself down to settle the tray on the table that was well below his knees before returning to standing near the hall. The tray was crowded with tea supplies and a large plate of tiny triangular pastries. Steam drifted off the pile of scones and Maril noticed that they smelled delicious, sweet and fruity. She stopped herself just in time from reaching for a scone. Instead, she asked looking across the table, “Could I serve you some tea, Mister Hinkleton?”
He looked up at her from the plate of scones, “Yes, please. Oh, and my name is Huebert. Or just Bert. Everyone has been calling me Mister Hinkleton today and I keep thinking you are talking about my father.” He gave her half a smile that wasn’t very convincing.
Maril poured a cup of tea for him and handed it across the table with a small empty plate. “Ok Mister Bert,” she said smiling, actually smiling, “Help yourself to the scones. Vicki, our cook, makes excellent pastries.”
He scowled at her, “Just Bert, no Mister please, Miss Leyfinder.”
She shrugged while pouring her own cup of tea, “If you insist Bert, but only if you call me Maril.” She paused until he had nodded his agreement, “Scones?” she questioned, gesturing to the still steaming pile.
Both gnomes leaned over the table to pull a few of the bite-sized pastries on to their plates before settling back into their seats. Maril approved of having snacks with any visitors. It always made it seem less awkward when they had something to occupy their hands and mouths besides talking.
They successfully made small talk while they were eating. When they discussed what their families did, Maril was intrigued to learn that Bert worked in a woodshop with his father and they both had ‘intricate item’ work permits. She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t already known this, her father spoke about Mister Hinkleton often. But in general, she wasn’t concerned with learning about her father’s friends and had managed to miss this interesting minor fact.
But they ran out of generic small talk and the pauses between their comments got longer and tenser. And, although they still had a few pasties left, the tea had gone cold and they were both full anyway. Bert was starting to fidget his hands again.
Maril looked out the window at the bright sunshine and the leaves rustling in a light breeze. How she wished she was outside in the rippling grain fields of the farming district instead of here in the stuffy entertaining tea room. Looking back at Bert she found him also staring out the window.
“Would you like to go outside and walk down to the community park at the end of the street? It isn’t that far of a walk and the park is beautiful this time of year,” she asked.
Bert perked up, looking back to her, “Yeah, that sounds delightful, let me grab my jacket.”
Maril was surprised at his immediate agreement and paused while she processed her confusion. She knew that her parents would disapprove of her going out in public with Mister Hinkleton’s son without an escort, but it was too late to retract the offer, Bert was already putting on his jacket.
“Right,” she said, “Let me ask Owen if he can accompany us and carry an umbrella in case the fair weather fails.”