Extra - Pop the Question (Renewal Pt I)

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Context: A rather casual conversation takes a turn for the worst when Amaya's friend realizes who she is and where she is from. Later, Levi and Amaya try to rekindle their love. Perhaps all it would take is a little bit of courage from Amaya and an idea from her friend to light that spark.

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Sitting with the ladies in the parlor was something I never thought I would do. For one thing, I hardly even knew what a parlor was and for another, I didn't think I would ever have the luxury of being able to waste an entire afternoon away by sipping tea and gossiping, even far before the war. I still think the whole concept was crazy, anyway.

But here I sat, wasting one of the last few warm afternoons of summer before it would give way for fall, in a parlor. Never did we stray further into the house. Rather, we'd stay in this sitting room, only one of many in the manor. We sat, warmed by the sun streaming in through the large windows behind one of the couches, and chatted to our heart's content.

Every once in a while, a smartly dressed man, a butler, would come by and refill our teacups and replace the tray of treats on the table centered between all the seats in the room, but that served as the only intrusion to our conversation, such as it always was.

Honestly, I wouldn't have even been here if one of my neighbors – one I actually enjoyed conversing with – wasn't cousins with the mistress of this house. The mistress. Honestly. Higher-class society was too much for me. But as it was, she was the cousin on this home's leading lady and when her cousin had her monthly chats like this, she dragged me along.

The first time had been horrendous for me. I hadn't realized how... well-off her cousin was and so I'd shown up at my friend's house in one of my older skirts, dated and paled with time, and a button-down shirt. It was comfortable anyway, but apparently not... impressive. Nor was it appropriate to wear, evidently, if my friend's horrified gasp had meant anything.

But she got over it quickly, simply telling me that the trick to dealing with rich people was to not reveal just how poor you were. There'd been no time to help it for that visit, so we made up the excuse that I'd been out doing yardwork and simply lost track of time. And it worked.

As a matter of fact, I'd say it worked almost too well, because I'd been invited back. And then invited back. And then again. And again. Which was... great. It was excellent. I didn't want to seem rude, of course, but... Goodness, the more often I went, the more likely it was that I mess up somehow.

Well, shortly after that day, my friend had taken me (and I'd accosted Gabi on my way out) to go shopping. She thankfully covered each expense, watching with a smile as the helping ladies in the shops reassured me that corsets really weren't that bad. She'd gotten me a few casual looks, a few business oriented ones, and one extravagant, formal one.

They were all very pretty, sure, but the damn woman knew that my family lived in a small apartment sitting atop our tea shop. She knew I wasn't exactly... first class. None of us were. Still, I couldn't say it wasn't fun to watch Gabi try to get out of a fitting as well.

Regardless... I was in the parlor now, sipping high-end tea that was floral and light and refreshing, nibbling on pastries and hoping to all higher powers that I wasn't getting crumbs everywhere, in one of the casual dresses which still took twenty minutes to put on, while trying to keep myself out of the conversation altogether.

But it was never that easy.

"Amaya, darling," the mistress of the house, Daniela said, "how are you enjoying your tea?"

I lowered the cup from my lips to smile at her as I answered. "I quite like it. It's incredible."

"Ah," she beamed, "that's good to hear. Marianne here has told me that your family owns a teashop on the other end of town."

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