“He thinks I’m overly compassionate, and by his standards, it’s true. There are few people as calloused as my father.” He looked over my shoulder and stiffened.
I turned and saw Elvin waiting there, his arms crossed as he looked between me and Lochlan. “I’m here to buy socks,” he said. “Are you going to introduce me to your…”
“Friend,” I supplied.
“I hadn’t realized you had any friends,” Elvin said snidely.
I frowned. “You’re one to talk.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Elvin shot at me, then shifted his gaze to Lochlan. “I haven’t seen you around much lately. Where’ve you been?”
There was a hardened, bitter look to Lochlan’s eye that I hadn’t seen before. “Did you ever think I haven’t wanted to be around you much?” he shot back. “Why are you here?”
I kept looking back and forth between them. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Our city might be the capital, but it was still relatively small enough that people would bump into each other.
“I heard Gil was working with a merchant and came to take a look. Not your typical line of work, is it, Gil?”
I glared at Elvin to avoid looking at Lochlan, whose eyes were about to burn a hole in my skull. “I do whatever it takes to put food on the table. You know that.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Elvin stared at Lochlan. “I can only imagine what sort of things Lochlan has you doing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lochlan said, rather aggressively.
Mable shifted and rubbed her eyes. She’d finally woken up.
Elvin smirked in a self-satisfied way that made me even more eager to slap him across the face. “Oh, nothing. Careful who you hang around, Lochlan. You too, Gil. You never know what other people do in their spare time.”
Lochlan went to grab Elvin, but Elvin danced out of reach and ran off.
“I can’t stand that little weasel,” Lochlan growled, cracking his knuckles.
“Me neither,” I said. “But sometimes we’re forced to work with people we don’t want to.”
“What did he mean, your typical line of work?” Lochlan asked me.
I was saved from answering when Auntie Mable sat up and stretched her hands out in front of her. “Who’s there?”
Lochlan went around to clasp her hands. “I’m here, Mable. It’s Lochlan. I’m sorry we woke you. Can I get you anything?”
She felt for his face. “Oh, it’s you, Lochlan. You’re a good boy.” Her fingers brushed past the scarf still wrapped aroundhis neck to move up and pinch his cheek. “You do spoil this old woman.”
“Always a pleasure. Do you remember Gil? He’s here today too.”
She stretched out her hand to find me. “Your apprentice who’s too skinny? Yes, I remember. How are you, Gil? Is Lochlan teaching you to knit?”
“I’m learning about sales,” I told her. “I haven’t learned the knitting part yet.”
“Then you’re missing out,” she said, patting my hand. “Lochlan makes the most beautiful scarves in all of Berkway.”
Lochlan grinned in an embarrassed sort of way. “They aren’t that good, Mable.”
She waggled a finger. “And you don’t give yourself enough credit! You ought to be proud of your work. In fact, I want to purchase another one—and don’t you dare give me another for free. I want to support your business.” She fumbled for her drawstring purse and withdrew a coin. “Is this enough? I can’t see…”
“It’s plenty,” Lochlan said, taking the tiny copper coin. “You’re very generous. Here, this is the best one I made this week.” He tugged off the scarf he’d wrapped around his own neck and placed it into Mable’s hands. “That pattern was fun to do.”
She rubbed her fingers over it and smiled blissfully. “You really do make the best patterns. They aren’t boring or repetitive like the others. Each one is so unique. Now, promise me that you’ll be proud of your work. Promise.”
“I promise,” Lochlan said.
