We walked a few blocks from the main square, entering a moderately upscale neighborhood. I was a bit surprised when Henrig guided me to the gate for one of the largest properties. There was a decorative fence around the edges, black-coated wrought iron fencing with brickwork columns, with a massive open gate.

Henrig gave me a sly amused look. “Didn’t see that coming, Grint? It’s been in the wife’s family for a few generations. You might recognize the name.” He pointed to the gate, the fancy scrollwork surrounded a large plaque.

“Pleich?!? As in the town founders? Goodness Henrig, you said plain simple fare. This.. .you…. you really need to warn a fellow.” I absolutely remained calm. I categorically deny all biased reports that I started hyperventilating, and cry foul slander on those that state I looked panicked. Even if they were likely true.

“Yup. It surprised the heck out of me when my Wilhena chose to let me court her. The shop’s been in my family for two generations, counting me, which means I wasn't really close to being part of her world. Now, my parents reside in the back cottage, having left the shop to me, and generally helped about the house and with our kids, their grandkids. But now, those kids are off in the City. Shop wasn’t what my two wanted to do, but I've always loved it. You, you’re marking time there, but you’re good at it. If you were better at talking and chatting with the customers, you’d be great.”

I looked at him, a bit startled.

“I know, Grint. You’re not much for the talking parts, most days. I can understand that. My brother, rest his soul, was like you. Great with the stuff, mostly just ok with the people, unless he knew them.”

It felt a bit odd, like I was in a conversation but also I wasn’t quite in the conversation.

“Well, don’t worry, son. Wil won’t care about your status. I’m not exactly fancy-folk myself. Let’s get in there, and get some supper. You look like you might blow away soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s still Henrig, my boy.”

I took a deep, calming breath.

“Then, yes, let’s go and eat, Henrig.” I paused briefly, a smile flitting across my face. Odd memories about comma placement making the difference between polite and psychotic came fluttering about my brain.

Henrig’s parents, along with Wilhena and a couple of uniformed staff, were waiting in the foyer to greet us as we arrived. Perhaps they’d be summoned by some unknown signal, or perhaps Henrig’s homecoming time was preplanned. One of the liveried servants took my waistcoat, and I nodded my thanks to him.

“Welcome home, sir. Would you or your guest like some refreshment? We have light wine, dark ale, or citrus-infused ice tea.”

“Wine for me, Jenlict. Grint?”

“The citrus tea sounds amazing, I’d like that.” Take that, Henrig, I can talk… ish!

We have citrus only rarely at home, and it’s a taste I really enjoy. Even when we do have some, like with the celebratory fish dinner, it’s often just the dried peels, since they lasted quite a while.

“Shall I bring the drinks to the table, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Grint, allow me to introduce my parents, Haldon and Sevria Halgershien, and you’ve briefly met my wife, Wilhena, at the store.”

“Yes, a pleasure, sir, ma’am, ma’am.” I greeted each in turn. It wasn't hard to talk when you had a formula to follow.

“Introductions over. Let’s eat.” Henrig started for the dining room, while Wilhena took my arm and escorted me in. I think that, technically, I was escorting her, but she was clearly the one in charge.

“I’ll sit here, Grint. Why don’t you go sit across from me, on the other side of Henrig.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Wilhena, dearie.”

“I’m not sure I can do that ma’am, my mother might strangle me.”

"Nonsense! Katerin wouldn’t mind at all.” My jaw dropped. She gave me a sidelong glance and snickered softly to herself. She shared the penchant for sly humor and shocking revelations with her husband. “I’ll show you the library next. She’s been fantastic at finding some of the rarer works we have.”

“Uh… I… hmmm, thought my father helped the customers.”

“Oh, he does dearie, but she’s the one who can find the things that aren’t in catalogues.”

Apparently, my mom was some kind of book finding genius. Learn something new every day. Even when I think I have a good idea about people, it's clear that I only know in part, and only see in part, and that limited sight is affected by my own preconceptions.

“So, how are you liking the grocer business? My son treating you well?” Haldon asked.

“Well enough, sir, to both questions.”

“Good, good.” Chimed in Sevria.

With such pleasantries and similar idle conversations keeping us occupied for a little while, and a truly excellent citrus tea to sip, I was surprised when we were served the promised repast of simple, plentiful, and excellent fare. While it was high quality food, it was served without fanfare. As soon as my host dug into his meal, I followed his lead. It was very odd being served a hearty beef stew with flat bread on a set of dishes that might cost more than my entire net worth. Homey, filling, delicious, and terrifying all at the same time. I accepted a generous second helping, but declined when offered a third bowl. I could probably have eaten it, but I was somewhat hoping for dessert. Who knew what they might have.

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Chocolate.

They.

Have.

Chocolate.

OK, so they called it something else, and it didn’t quite match my memories, but it wasn’t far off. It was way closer to chocolate than the carob stuff my first mom would make. I mean I’d take carob in a heartbeat here, because it’s not like I can just go grab a candy bar and have good chocolate, or any chocolate for that matter.

After the initial smell hits me, I have to use every single drop of my willpower to take each bite slowly. It’s a whipped chocolate mousse. I may have been making noises while eating, because they are all staring at me with amusement. I shamelessly whip out a line from an old movie.

“Please, sir, I want some more.” It even comes with a translated awful cockney accent.

Hey, it worked. I got another serving. This time I made sure I wasn’t making any noises, but I literally meditated on the flavor of each bite.

So.

Much.

Bliss.

When I looked up, everyone else had been served some form of after dinner aperitif, which they were sipping. I was offered a glass, but politely declined. I wanted that chocolate flavor to linger on my tongue.

Henrig grinned at me. “I had about the same reaction the first time I got that dessert, Grint. I just didn’t slow down like you did. Impressive. I plowed through both of mine and proposed on the spot.”

I looked over at a pleased Wilhena. “You made that amazing dish? What do you call it? Where can I get the ingredients? Will you teach me? Please?” My words flew out of my mouth in a fusilade. I even tried the lost puppy with begging eyes look, which bounced off her amused face like a rubber ball off a steel plate. Fortunately, the lost puppy look wasn’t required.

“I’d be delighted, dearie. Neither of my boys wanted to cook any more than they wanted to be shopkeepers. And Henrig…. well Henrig can burn water and curdle milk with a touch. I could teach you tomorrow? Or perhaps next Nineday? I have enough ingredients for several more batches, except for the fresh cream. It needs fresh cream, and I can’t keep that around or someone, “ she spared a faux-withering glance at her husband, “will put it in his gruel every day.”

Henrig feigned shock with a twinkle in his eye. “I never. I skip every day that doesn’t start with a number.”

Odd isn’t it. In some ways I’ve spent more time on Henrig and his wife than I talk about my parents. Probably because they are new and fascinating to me, where my parents… they’re just a fixture of my life. They’ve always been there. I really need to thank them more. And after next Nineday, I’ll be able to share this awesome thing.

“Next Nineday would be great, I’d like to make this and bring some to my parents. They deserve something this fantastic for all the well… me that they put up with.” It sounded so corny when I said it out loud, but it was true. I’d been a bizarre baby, a detached child, and then I’d graduated and left. Perhaps it’d have been easier or at least more understandable if I’d been chafing, but I’d been almost indifferent. As I had said to my mom just last tenday, I’d been so caught up in avoiding pain that I’d been handing it out in buckets to the people who loved me.

As those thoughts ran through my head, we removed ourselves from the table, and Wilhena took my arm again.

“Now, about the library.”

“I’m not sure I can take much more shock today, ma’am.”

She slapped at my arm, like I had said something amusing. I hadn’t meant to be funny. I was still reeling from the fantastic dessert. I might even have been in a state of shock-olate. OK, that was probably too far.

She steered me out of the dining room and down the hall. I hadn’t noticed during the meal, but the house was illuminated with fixed gas lamps, unlike the oil lamps we used at my house, probably the price of my education.

One of the servants walking into the hallway collided with me, sending a medium-sized pottery falling. I reacted without thinking, grabbing at the object with my hand. I failed to catch it. I managed to divert it a bit, but it hit the ground beside me with a crash and sprayed my legs with scalding water. My left hand was slightly reddened from the heat, and my left leg was soaked and steaming a bit. My right leg had a few wet spots, too, and worst of all, and I may have let out a hissing sound, with the hint of a squeak as my voice cracked. On the other hand, perhaps it was a manly stoic grunt.

Wilhena looked at me, concern written on her face. “Grint! Are you alright?”

“I will be fine in a few moments, I think. I was mostly startled.” Truth. Lie. I was already focusing on my mental balance and visualizing my leg and hand as fine. I could feel the drain begin, followed by the crawling itch on my leg. My hand didn’t appear to change, so it must have not taken any significant damage.

“And you ma’am, were you splattered?” I distracted her so that I can use the time bought by her self-examination, focusing on speed for the healing process in my leg.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t catch it. I’m not all that good with my hands.”

“Oh, forget the bed warmer, they’re just pottery.”

The servant had been surprisingly small, so she actually bounced off of me and was outside the splash zone. She sat a little ways away, still a bit aghast at the mistake.

“Well, if it’s just pottery and a bit of unscheduled bathing, then perhaps can I see the library now?”

“Of course, dearie. Right this way.” I took one squishing step down the hall, then paused. “Or perhaps I could have a towel first? I wouldn’t want to get the books wet. Mom would definitely disown me for that. Dad probably would too, come to think of it.”

The servant quickly gathered up the shards into her apron and returned back through the archway she’d entered from. I could hear her calling into the kitchen for some clean towels.

Moments later, Jenlict came out of the kitchen with a small stack of towels.

“I need one please. The majority of the water is soaking into the floor, so it could use the others.”

“Of course, sir.”

He held out a towel, which I gratefully took, and then spent a minute blotting my pants dry. Well, more like blotting them dry-ish.

“Perhaps I can leave my shoes here? The stocking is soaked.”

“Of course, dearie. Dreadfully sorry about the mess, let’s continue to the library then, shall we?”

I removed my shoes and socks, setting them against the wall. Wilhena laced her arm into mine and guided me down the hallway, toward the open door to the library. As we walked into the well-lit room, I could see more books than I’d seen outside the main library of the Omniology. Of course, as I said before, as a member of the low staff and not a paying student, I didn’t get access to the main library. That hadn’t prevented me from looking around a couple times when I had an excuse. The room had a second tier of shelves, and was therefore roughly twice the size of my parents’ shop. They might be the single largest customer my family has. The refrain from before came back with a vengeance: don’t screw this up!