#nancymorales

[persimmonsimmer]

Trevor had been acutely aware of Peter's presence all day, but it wasn't until late into the evening that he finally gathered the resolve to approach him.

He'd hoped the right words would come to him, but now, standing face-to-face, he was at a loss. He'd expected to feel angry, as he had for so long. Instead, he was nervous.

Maybe it doesn't have to be like this between us.

"Uh, Dad . . ." he began.

"Trevor! M'boy," Peter slurred. His eyes met Trevor's for a brief moment, then slid past them to some point over his shoulder.

Nancy: Uh-oh.

Trevor's heart sank.

"You're drunk," he said.

"No," Peter said. He was speaking to Trevor's shoes, swaying slightly in place. "No, 'm fine. Wha'd you wan' to--"

Trevor scowled at the floor. Clearly Peter was in no condition to talk. "Never mind. Nothing," he muttered.

But something across the room had once again arrested Peter's attention, and Trevor wasn't sure he'd even heard.

"Hol . . . hol' on jus' a second, son . . ."

[persimmonsimmer]

As worried as he was about Justin, Trevor had a store to run.

It had snowed all night, piling up several inches deep, the kind of snow Panorama saw only once every few winters.

Snow was bad for business. It was probably hardly worth his time to open the store today, but Trevor needed the money. He sent a quick prayer to the Watcher that at least a few customers would show up.

What he never expected was that one of those few would be that maddening blond trader--Austin.

"Back again? I thought you said there was nothing here for you."

Austin turned to face him, an arch smile on his lips. "Blame my weakness for pretty things."

"You must have been more impressed with my craftsmanship than you let on."

"Amusing. But I wasn't referring to the toys."

"Ah, Trev?" Nancy said.

"What?" Trevor was startled. For a moment he'd almost forgotten she was there.

"We're running low on inventory. Could you grab a few more pieces from the workroom? Take your time," she added, wearing a gloating grin. "I can handle things out here."

The workroom door opened and closed behind Trevor with a soft click.

"Employees only," he said.

"I didn't see any signage to that effect," Austin responded.

Trevor cleared his throat. "Listen, it's not that . . . I mean, I'm flattered, really, but . . . I told you, I'm not interested in a relationship."

"And what gave you the impression I want a relationship with you? A rather egotistical assumption, don't you think?" The trader's full lips tugged upward into his characteristic smirk.

Trevor did the only thing he could think of to wipe it away.

[persimmonsimmer]

Almost before Trevor knew it, before the brief Panorama winter had even set in in earnest, his store was ready. It was little more than a box, and he felt self-conscious about the quality of the items he was selling--he'd made them all himself, and he knew his earlier efforts, especially, were crude at best--yet it was all his and he was determined to make the most of it.

Grateful as he was for their support, Trevor could hardly stand to watch as his neighbors examined his goods, turning them over in their hands as they weighed whether they were worth even the meager prices he was charging.

But what really unbalanced Trevor was seeing him again. The maddening blond trader, the living reminder of that mortifying set-up already back to haunt him.

Hoping he sounded breezy and unruffled, he approached. "When you said we'd probably be seeing each other around town, I didn't expect that to mean 'in my store on opening day.'"

"I heard there was a new store in town. I'm simply taking stock of the offerings as any good trader would."

"Well, like what you see?" Trevor asked, already feeling it had been a mistake to come over. Why couldn't he have just let Nancy deal with this?

"In a manner of speaking."

Trevor flushed.

"Nothing here is for me, that is; I deal in finer goods. Textiles and books and art, for the most part. But I can appreciate the . . . whimsy your pieces have."

Trevor didn't thank him for the compliment--if it was a compliment. It was hard to tell.

"Finer things. It seems like it would be hard to make a living selling books and art. Don't most people have more pressing needs?"

"Coming from someone who's just opened a store selling playthings for children. I get by. People need intellectual stimulation and pretty things, even in hard times. . . . Anyhow, now that I've had my look around, I'll be off."

"Wait. I, uh, don't think I ever got your name."

There was that arched brow again, those smirking lips. "Austin. Austin Bell."

"Since, like you said, I might be seeing you around more often."

"Of course. Well, good day."

* * *

Sales had been modest but not discouraging, and they'd closed while there was still enough daylight to work on a few new pieces.

"Have a good first day?" Nancy asked innocently.

"Don't."

"What?"

"I know what you're thinking. He just wanted to look around. And I'm still not interested."

"Uh-huh."

[persimmonsimmer]

Trevor: "So I'm having the shop built right near the center, not far from your mom's. It's going to be small, but the upside is it won't take long to build. And I thought maybe you could help out. I'd pay you, obviously."

Nancy: "Sounds fun. I mean, I might have to limit my hours so I can still help out at Mom's store, but if that's OK, then yeah! When do you think you'll be able to open?"

Trevor: "A week or so?"

Nancy: "I can't wait. . . . But hey, we're still on for tomorrow, right? You don't need to, like, supervise the construction process or something, do you?"

Trevor had almost forgotten that he and Nancy had agreed to hang out at the park the next day. He restrained a sigh. Spending a day just hanging out at the park would leave him with less time to work on inventory for opening day.

Stop it. That's the way Peter would think. Putting the store above everything else, always.

Trevor: "Yeah, of course."

Nancy: "Great! See you there."

[persimmonsimmer]

"Um, guys?"

"Why does it look like that trader Austin is here?" Leonor asked. "You know, the guy who was a total jerk to me at Miguel's first birthday party?"

"Um." Nancy shuffled guiltily.

"Nancy?!"

"So yeah, I kind of invited him? For Trevor!" Nancy added quickly. "He won't bother you at all, I promise."

"He's seeing Trevor now?"

"Kind of? I mean, there's definitely something there. They just need a push. I thought maybe today would be a good chance for them to get to know each other better . . ."

"So you're, like, their matchmaker? That's kind of sweet, actually," Leonor said, her penchant for romance overcoming her annoyance. "As long as you're sure he's not going to, like, make a scene or challenge Al to a duel or something--"

"Believe me, Lele," Nancy said. "He's over you."

"Well . . . I guess it's all right. But you didn't invite anyone else without asking, right? Remember, it's supposed to be just family and close friends . . ."

"Well . . . haha, funny thing . . . I might have also kind of invited Carl's new assistant or whatever? You know, Sam?"

"Oh, Nancy . . ."

[persimmonsimmer]

Miguel was the only kid at the party, but that was OK. He wasn't that close with the other kids, so he even preferred it that way. He liked dancing with Carl and his grandpa, playing games with his aunt Nancy, being doted on by his aunt Leonor and his three grandmas. (Even though Grandmas Hannah and Phoebe weren't paying him much attention at the moment.)

"How are you so fast?! I didn't even see you move!" he demanded of Nancy.

"Practice, little man. Practice."

A few steps away, Peter was only too aware of the fact that Trevor and he had been in the same room together for hours and had yet to say so much as hello. Every time he approached, Trevor suddenly seemed to be deep in conversation with someone else.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said to the closest unoccupied person, who happened to be Yesenia.

Yesenia was startled. She'd forgotten herself for a moment, had allowed her mind to wander, her careful smile to slip, and Peter had caught her. Blushing, she did her best to tack it back on.

"Yes, of course."

"Riiiight." His voice had taken on a slight, uncharacteristic drawl. The drink in his hand clearly wasn't his first.

Peter glanced down at the glass. She must have been staring.

"Uh. Can I get you one?"

She shouldn't, not if she was going to keep up her happy facade all night.

"Sure."

The drink helped. Yesenia tossed it back it too quickly, then poured herself another.

"Easy there."

His glass was freshly filled to the brim, too. He's one to talk.

Jeremy and Meda were the first to leave. Jeremy delivered their goodbyes while Meda bundled up for the walk home.

"Great party, Cintia, but I should be getting Meda home. Congrats to the couple."

[persimmonsimmer]

A drink did help steady Citlali’s nerves after Peter’s outburst.

She wasn't the only one partaking. Whether it was because of a collective release of tension after the recent scene, or simply the cumulative effect of fatigue and too many drinks over the course of the wedding party, the guests--those who remained--were getting looser, sillier.

"I think it's time we took ourselves home, Walter," Nadya said, watching her husband put on quite the undignified show in service of an off-color joke.

But not everyone was able to brush off Peter's outburst so easily.

“Is everything going to be OK? Do you think Carl is mad?” Miguel asked, turning a worried face up to his aunt Nancy.

“Probably, but not at you. And not at your mom,” Nancy said. “It'll be all right. Hey, how about another dance with your aunt Nance?”

“I'm kind of tired,” Miguel said after only another minute or so. “Can I change out of my fancy clothes now, too?”

“Shhh. Don’t draw attention to it. I just couldn’t stand that dress any longer. But we’ll be going home soon. You can change then.”

Meanwhile, Cintia was attempting to commiserate with Leonor.

“I just cannot believe Peter,” she was saying. “That man-- to make such as scene at your wedding--”

“Shh. I am not going to talk or think about him right now. It's still my wedding day, and I'm not going to let him spoil it.”

“You deserved a beautiful wedding day.” Cintia squeezed her daughter tightly.

“And I had one, Mom. Really.”

Cintia wiped her eyes. “Good. Oh! Go find your father, would you? He has something for you.”

[persimmonsimmer]

Miguel: "Whee! You're a good dancer, grandpa."

Nancy: "So how long do you think this whole thing is going to take? A few hours? This dress is starting to itch. Shouldn't people be arriving by now?"

Carl: "Afternoon, everybody! Am I early?"

Miguel: "Carl! Carl, you're back!"

Domingo: "So you made it! Welcome back."

Cintia: "Isn't that sweet. Good to see you again, Carl."

Miguel: "So! Did you see anything cool on the road this time? How far did you go? Did you bring me anything?"

Carl: "Ah, so you want to hear all about it, huh?" He ruffled Miguel's hair. "Well all right then, let's see . . ."