Wealth cannot entirely keep out the winter chill, but it can certainly make it more pleasant to endure. Morning finds Dina finishing her breakfast as little Malcolm Landgraab occupies his highchair nearby, most of his attention devoted to dropping bits of breakfast over the side and watching where they land.
Dina and Natasha discuss Christmas preparations, household repairs, and whether the roads will remain passable through the rest of winter while Malcolm continues his important scientific research into gravity.
The copper bathtub upstairs has developed a persistent leak, one that no amount of placing buckets beside it has managed to solve. Darren arrives toolbox in hand, and spends most of the afternoon tightening fittings, replacing worn pieces, and muttering thoughtfully. By the time he finishes, the tub is once again watertight.
Downstairs, the Christmas tree stands proudly in the parlor, a fine fir that Natasha had arranged to have delivered from outside town. She spent an entire afternoon decorating it herself with ribbons, candles, and carefully dried orange slices that catch the firelight with a warm amber glow.
It is in front of this very tree that little Malcolm ages from toddler to child, small enough to be carried one moment and the next standing a little taller, his curly hair as unruly and his expression already carrying hints of the confidence that seems to run in the Landgraab bloodline.
Dina immediately fusses over him.
That evening, young Malcolm enjoys yet another privilege of becoming a child; for the first time, he joins his parents at the supper table rather than eating in his high chair. Dina Caliente makes certain his napkin is properly folded in his lap, while his father, Malcolm Landgraab IV, watches the proceedings with obvious amusement.
Young Malcolm sits as straight-backed as he can manage, determined to prove he is grown enough to dine with adults, and for nearly five whole minutes, he succeeds.
Then he begins talking.
And talking.
And talking.
At one point, the boy announces that he intends to own six horses, a locomotive, and "possibly a mountain" when he grows up. His father furrows his already prominent brows.
"A mountain?"
"Yes sir."
"What for?"
"So nobody else can have it." At this, Malcolm Sr. nods thoughtfully.
"A reasonable position." Dina groans.
"Please do not encourage him."
"I'm not encouraging him," Malcolm replies with a perfectly straight face. "I'm recognizing sound business instincts." Young Malcolm beams with pride.
After supper, Malcolm finds himself cornered by his mother before he can escape upstairs. Dina scoops him up despite his increasingly vocal protests that he is now far too grown up for such treatment. Malcolm's attempts at maintaining dignity last approximately three seconds before dissolving into helpless laughter. Eventually, once the laughter has subsided and yawns begin replacing complaints, Dina takes him gently by the hand and leads him upstairs to begin getting ready for bed.