By candlelight, the dark-haired tailor penned her message, a sweetly sad smile on her face, one of remembrance and a longing for times gone by. There also was a twinkle of infectious joy in her cheek, rosy with warmth, as she glanced at the letter she’d received the day before. She resumed her note, her long, delicate fingers producing script that matched the hands that produced it.
My dearest Drina,
I am overjoyed at the news! I always knew it, I said it would happen. With how jittery I am right now just at the thought, I can’t imagine how you’re going to manage your nerves and excitement.
As to your question, I have been well. The shop has worked out marvelously (most of the time). That’s business: sometimes it’s booming, sometimes slumping. All in all, manageable. I’ve even had a few regulars. Fewer than that might stay or just come to visit for the company, and those are the times I most enjoy. For other than that, I may see some faces around one of the local inns, but there is no guarantee. Most of the people I’ve met come and go, or are likely busy with their own exploits. It would be nice to find something consistent, both socially and for work. I think that’s what I miss the most about Trestlebridge, the company. There was always someone I could count on for a conversation and a laugh, especially you. Heavens, I could even do with Mrs. Cartwright’s gossip sometimes. But I missed you most of all, and even just receiving a letter from you brings me back in my heart and mind to all those good times. There was an incident recently that made me think of you involving some wanderers who pass through town on occasion, and another conversation before that with a man here who recently returned up there. Had you not written me, you might have been receiving a letter shortly anyway! It sounds like things are still a bit turbulent up there, but I know you’ll remember what I always say.
But, my situation is dull compared to what you have in store. How is your Mr. Goodman? Probably quite proud of himself if I remember him at all. And, of course, of you. Does he still hum that silly little ditty every time he thinks he’s accomplished something? And you, undoubtedly bustling about all the time. Try not to wear yourself out. You’ve got several months ahead in which to do your worrying; try not to fit all of that into the next couple weeks. I hope the enclosed will help with some of that. Do you have any guesses yet about the gender? I hope he’ll be a boy, like you’ve wanted, but a tiny part of me wants her to be a girl just so I can make her lovely little things. But, who knows, maybe the yarn color I picked will be prophetic and drive a baby boy into being. If my presence would help, don’t hesitate to write. You’d be doing me a favor if you let me take care of you after he’s born. Or, having to host me might be one more thing on your mind. Either way, write often.
Love you and miss you.
Your friend,
Sareva
She didn’t fold the letter immediately, being in no rush to send it. After all, she had a blanket to finish.
