In Which Laveria Has an Ardent Suitor

October 16, 1157

Laveria half-heartedly poked at the logs of the fire, the concoction in the cauldron bubbling and steaming accordingly. Not for the first time, the sounds of the potion instilled in her a rather melancholy feeling; they were the only sounds of life in the house, and it was pathetic that she had to rely on a cauldron for company.

Oh well--she would be with her family soon. The next day was her granddaughter's second birthday. Two years old already! Before she knew it, Raia and her brothers would be getting married and making babies of their own.

She had still not quite recovered from the few weeks when Severin and Alina had been in Dovia for the wedding, when they had left their oldest two with her. Raia and Jadin had done well to remind her of just how much she missed having babies around, and now that they had been back with their parents for the better part of a year, she missed it even more.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't even seen a whole lot of her own son when he was a baby. She'd nursed, cuddled him, maybe played with him when she got the chance, but she'd always had to work--Viridis had raised him.

"Good evening, Laveria," a now-familiar voice greeted her.

Laveria froze; she hadn't even heard the door. "Goodman Frey," she replied at last.

The butcher chuckled. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Willott?"

"I don't know," she answered as he drew nearer. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock?"

"Oh, Laveria, you're funny," laughed Willott. "Why would I knock if I want to surprise you?"

She shrugged. "Why would you want to surprise me in the first place?"

"From my experience, there is no better way to treat a lady than to surprise her," he slurred.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure half the rapists in all of history have used that thought to justify their actions," she sneered. "Really, what do you want?"

"I keep telling you," Willott sighed. "I want you. My wife has been dead for over twenty years and in all that time, I've never met a woman who caught my interest--that is, until you came around."

It was Laveria's turn to laugh. "You stupid man!" she sighed between giggles. "If you want to take another wife, I suggest looking for someone younger, someone who can give you lots of babies--you don't want a dried up old hag like me with maybe a dozen eggs left."

"I don't want lots of babies," he insisted. "I want you... well, and maybe one or two babies. But I assure you, I'd rather have you and no babies than any young thing and eight babies."

"I have a twenty-five-year-old son," she informed him as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"So?" asked Willott, clearly undaunted. "I have a twenty-two-year-old daughter.

"I have three grandchildren."

"I have a grandchild myself."

Laveria sighed. "Willott, you're a good man, but... I don't know if I can be what you want me to be. I'm not the kind of woman who just gets married and feeds everyone. I'm sorry."

She expected him to turn around and leave--but instead, he merely shook his head. "Laveria, I wouldn't feel any more for you if you were."

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