Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Two

"Come on, luv, let me do your hair," Gran said.

"He likes it down," mother said, holding on to the ends of her long graying tresses.

"I know he does, and it's beautiful, but we're having guests over for tea. You want to look proper, don't you?"

That was smart. If there was one thing Beatrice loved, it was being proper. Father used to laugh at her about it.

"Don't let her touch it," she said, pointing an accusing finger at Constance.

Constance tried very hard not to roll her eyes.

"Why don't you go pick some flowers, Constance?" Gran said.

She pecked Gran on the cheek. "You can just tell me to leave, you know. I promise not to be offended." She looked at her mother. "Behave."

Constance picked her way carefully to the river, afraid to soil her only good dress before the cousins arrived. Simon was kneeling in the grass, examining something on a log.

"Don't get dirty, Simon," she said, making her way to him. His pocket watch was laying next to a large striped fungus. "Should you have dad's watch out like that?"

"I'm using it for scale to measure this polypore," he said, sketching furiously.

"Right." There was no use arguing with him. "Remember, we have guests coming."

His face clouded over. "Why do they have to come here?"

"They need to look over the cottage. If we're lucky, they'll schedule some repairs." She bit her lip.

"You don't want them here either, I can tell."

She stopped, biting her lip. For all he seemed like he was in his own world, he didn't miss much.

"I'm nervous because we don't know them. But they're our cousins, they're family."

"I don't understand strangers."

They don't understand you either, kid.

"They say one thing, but they mean something else." He looked up at her. "Why?"

"Politeness, I guess."

"It doesn't seem polite to lie." He went back to sketching.

A smile tugged at her lips.

"You're in luck. These aren't strangers, these are cousins."

"They can't be both?"

"Guess we'll find out. But Simon, technically, they own our house. We have to be polite. You can't just say whatever you want."

"I thought you said they weren't strangers."

"We better be polite, just in case."

He stopped sketching and looked out over the river. "Can I talk to them about mushrooms?" He asked.

There was a niggle of unease in her heart, but he was trying so hard to find a path through the battlefield that was interacting with people. Remember Constance, father's voice came unbidden. Simon's brain works differently, but different isn't bad. Sometimes different is amazing. She rubbed her chest where it ached. "Aye, you can talk about mushrooms."

He looked at her, his face lighting up.

"Just try not to monopolize the conversation."

He gave her a nervous nod. Voices drifted toward them.

"Looks like they're here."

Simon gathered up his watch, closed his notebook, and stood reluctantly.