Page 77 of Familiar Things New

“Oh, I never meant to worry you. I’m sorry you’ve been fretting about me.”

Mrs. Meyer let out a chuckle-sigh. “You and your ‘sorry’s.”

Edwin began to snicker, and Mrs. Meyer threw him a knowing look.

“He must be this way with you, too, then,” she said to Edwin.

“He is,” Edwin confirmed before looking over at him. “Sorry, Andrew.”

Edwin pursed his lips, perhaps to keep himself from chortling.

“Yes, we’re so very sorry, Andrew,” Mrs. Meyer teased. Andrew rolled his eyes. “Be careful or they’ll fall right out of your head,” she chided.

Andrew laughed, the rest of his unease and sorrow finally lifting.

“Apologies, Mrs. Meyer,” he countered playfully.

Mrs. Meyer wagged her finger at him. “How many times must I tell you to call me Prudence? You calling me Mrs. Meyer makes it seem like we’re strangers.”

Heat crept up the back of Andrew’s neck. While it wasn’t an entirely conscious choice on his part to hold tight to such formalities, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps maintaining them would make it easier when he had to move someday.

“Sorry,” Andrew spluttered.

He immediately cupped a hand over his mouth. Both Edwin and Mrs. Meyer laughed.

After that bout of silliness passed, the three of them continued to eat their meals. Once they all finished, Andrew and Edwin offered to help clean up, but Mrs. Meyer waved both of them off.

“I can clean up fine by myself,” she said, pushing herself to stand. “You two can get back to polishing those photography plates or whatever it is you were doing. And when you’re finished with that, I’d be happy to share some cake with you both. Cake and tea. Perhaps we can teach Edwin some euchre, Andrew.”

Edwin wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table as Mrs. Meyer came by to take his now-empty plate.

“Thank you for the offer, but I should head back home,” he said. “I need to make sure I’m around to help my sister with whatever orders she might still be working on this evening. Hopefully I can make it home in time to help my mother with some household things as well.”

“Edwin’s sister is a seamstress,” Andrew explained.

“Yes, and my mother is—or was—a seamstress, too, but she’s too sick now. Rheumatic gout, they call it,” Edwin said. “Everything has become harder because her hands are so swollen. So, I try to help whenever I can.”

Mrs. Meyer offered a small, sympathetic smile. “That’s a shame about your mother. I’m starting to experience some stiffness from time to time, but nothing as bad as that. Your mother is lucky to have such a devoted son.”

Edwin smiled back. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Meyer circled around to Andrew’s side of the table.

“You’re lucky, too, Andrew, to have found such a thoughtful friend,” she said as she picked up his plate.

Andrew and Edwin locked eyes and smiled at each other.

Once again, Andrew took a pause to imprint the moment in his mind. Anticipatory heartache settled in his chest as he focused on the particulars of Edwin’s face—the pink hue on his cheeks; the way his hazel eyes sparkled with a sort of quiet strength and intense kindness—and he tried to capture a mental photograph so that he might commit yet another precious, fleeting moment to memory.

Lucky indeed.

Chapter Twenty

Andrew

Walking through the streets of Albany, Andrew held tight to the brim of his hat as a fierce March wind blew past. Beside him, Edwin was walking with his face scrunched as a result of the cold.

It was Edwin’s final day in the photography studio, and Andrew couldn’t help but feel a little melancholic about it, though he knew how hard it must have been for Edwin to help him for so long.