💜❤️💙 A LOVELY DAY IN RAFTA
Countdown to Potionomics Valentine's, Feb 13-15
Saffron didn’t get many visitors. That was by design; she liked most people best when they were hypothetical or far away. Her garden was quiet. Her trees didn't interrupt.
She especially didn't get many visitors when it was raining. So when someone knocked, she paused.
Then she opened the door to find Finn standing just beyond her cottage eaves, soaked through, one hand propped on a support beam.
“Heya,” he said with a half-wave.
Saffron smiled. “I thought you hated the woods.”
“Hate's a strong word. Let's just say they're outta my depth.” His gaze made a circuit of the grove before returning to her. “But it's nice weather we're havin', and I got somethin' on my mind, so…”
Saffron settled against the doorframe. No point inviting him inside when the drizzle clearly agreed with him. Instead, her ears flicked forward attentively.
“Didja know she sleeps in an armchair?”
"Sylvia. That armchair in her shop." Finn rubbed his neck. "Fine enough for sittin', but nobody oughta be crashin' there at the end of the day."
Saffron's nose wrinkled. It was no wonder Sylvia carried so much tension in her shoulders, twisted up in an armchair night after night. "And you want me to build her a bed."
"Can't buy one for her. She'd never let it through the door." Finn pulled a small iron key from his pocket, spun it on one finger. "But if a real pal set it up while she was out..." He looked at her sidelong, teeth carving a conspiratorial grin.
"Mmm. So you want me to build her a bed, inside her shop, when she isn't home." Though one skeptical brow lifted, laughter threaded beneath her words.
“Nothin' fancy. She'd reject it on principle. Just… better than a chair. She'd never ask for one. Won’t buy one. But if it’s already there…”
“She might use it," Saffron finished.
“Might get some decent sleep.” The sly smile fell away. "Look, she just oughta have somethin' that doesn't fight back when she actually conks out."
Saffron pictured the space in that shop: the back room, the little corner Sylvia surrendered to function. A place to tuck something quiet and useful and comfortable.
“Oak,” she said after a thoughtful moment. “I’ve got an old door that wants to be something new.”
Finn exhaled, his stance loosening. "Appreciate it."
"I appreciate you letting me know about her sleeping arrangements." Saffron cocked her head. "But I'm doing this for her sake. Because she deserves rest. There's no need for you to thank me."
“If you say so.” He scratched his jaw. “But if you do somethin’ for her, it kinda feels like you're doin’ me a favor, too.” Then his tailfin flicked like he could reel the thought back. "In a way."
Ah. There it was—the admission he'd trekked through unfamiliar woods to make without quite making it. The warmth of his worry, slow-burning and steady. Saffron shifted her shoulder against the doorframe, grounding herself in the familiar grain. She could work with that kind of care.
Finn gave a skeptical snort—at himself or the situation, Saffron couldn't tell—before handing her the spare key. "Well, thanks anyway. For takin' it on." He stepped back into the rain, looking more settled already. "I owe you one."
"You don't," Saffron said, but the forest was already closing around him.
Then turned to her bench. She chose her wood. She planned her joints. No nails. Nothing rushed. Only a place to rest, carved with care for someone who wouldn’t ask—but might accept.
