The Suggestion Box (Volume 1)

Part 1: A Balloon and A Butterfly (1)

Based on the Following Suggestions:

Names: Ignatz Rastkewatzki, Butterfly Huffingtree, Horatio Whistlestop
Places: Londonshire, Devonshire, an abandoned castle in Scotland
Times: 7 PM June 30th, Sunset, late 1700's
Objects: Rope and hot air balloon

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CHAPTER 1

May 12, 1789

My Dear Horatio—

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I was happy to hear from a friend about your successful endeavors in the business sector of Devonshire, although I would have been overjoyed to hear it straight from your own hand. No matter! Only just graduated, and already a manager? I always knew you were a shrewd chap; well done, my friend!

I am recalling the start of our friendship all those years ago at Exeter, and it has made me recall my true purpose in writing. Dear fellow, I would like to invite you out to my family's estate for the Midsummer Festival. As I recall, you have yet to experience such a momentous occasion here in the Queen's Country. I assure you it will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, not some stuffy garden processional!

Shortly thereafter, we will be welcoming my cousin Esmirelda to stay the remainder of the season. If you do not mind reading mention of it, I am sure the two of you will get along splendidly. I do not introduce her lightly, Horatio, for she is dear to our family, and a rare and delicate beauty. We give her the nickname Butterfly, for she is as lively and graceful as one. There will be an intimate family dinner following the Midsummer celebration, and you are cordially invited to attend and stay as long as you wish. Thank you, dear friend, and bon voyage!

Sincerely,

Ignatz Ratzkewatski

Horatio Whistlestop stood before the small, moldering mirror in the cramped Devonshire inn where he had spent the night during Midsummer Days. His fingers fumbled at the elusive Windsor knot that he was attempting to anchor below his chin, where the edges of his collar met. He glanced again at the letter wherein his friend Ignatz mentioned Cousin Esmirelda. He mentioned her again in a later letter—a full description this time—but by then Horatio had already confirmed the impending visit.

For the twentieth time, the knot slipped. Horatio swore and stared down at his hands. What was wrong with him today? He'd been tying his ties every day since the Academy and then the University at Exeter. As an "exchange student" from America on a specialized scholarship, his family didn't have the funds or the time to come with him. He'd had no mother to tie his tie for him. And now apparently he had lost the ability. Frustrated, he cast his tie over the bed and adjusted his collar. Maybe, as an American, he could get by without a tie... Horatio moved to focus on the rest of his appearance. His slacks and his shoes were in order, his hair was straight—He practiced a debonair smirk as he imagined meeting the inimitable Butterfly. Copper-colored hair, 'Nat had said; morning-glory eyes and elfin features poised upon a full, coral-colored mouth. "When she has been in the sun," his friend raved, "there is the merest smattering of freckles like Nature's kisses across her cheeks."

"Good afternoon, Miss Esmirelda," Horatio practiced, taking care not to stare too much, nor appear disinterested or embarrassed by such a ravishing beauty. He decided that decorum would allow him to refer to her by her Christian name, and give her the option and opportunity to request the nickname Nat recommended.

Horatio glanced at the penitent tie draped over the end of the bed. He sighed, and once more drew it around his neck. This time, the Fortunes smiled upon him, and the Windsor appeared of its own accord. Satisfied, Horatio adjusted it snug beneath his Adam's apple and smiled. At last, he was ready.