[Pinstripes - Lifetimes] The Man on the Stairs
Title: The Man on the Stairs
Story/Character: Pinstripes: One Step Removed 'Verse / Catherine, Tabitha & William
Rating: PG
word count: 1,572
She found the case in the eaves, tucked behind a shabby jumble of furniture with a dusty canvas thrown over the lot, and like any good girl playing make-believe amidst the odds and ends of an attic she promptly opened it up. It yielded a treasure trove of musty delights to her young hands and imagination, but it was an armful of dusty blue fabric and a worn wooden case that she eventually carried back down the folding stairs to the main floor.
Her mother was in the office - she always was, at that time of day - and the girl leaned around the edge of the open door. "Mama? Mama, what..." but her mother was on the phone and held up a hand, shushing her, so the girl shut her mouth and leaned against the door frame, scuffing her feet against the carpet.
When the call was finished her mother clicked her terminal closed and pushed back from the big desk and beckoned her daughter in with a smile. "What is it, Abby? You've been quiet as a mouse and... oh, good heavens, how did you get so dusty?"
"In the attic," the girl replied. "You said I could play upstairs! But Mama, what're these?"
Her mother, presented with a lapful of fabric and box, looked startled. The fabric, shaken out and spread across the desk, was a man's waistcoat - silver shot hunter blue, cut in an old-style fashion, worn and a bit frayed from age and use and redolent with the scents of dust and cedar. The little box, pried open with a thumbnail, was lined in a dark blue velvet that was almost black, thin and threadbare around the edges, and two sets of silver cufflinks nestled inside.
Abby leaned against her mother's side, all bright dusty little girl curiosity. Her mother's expression was odd, and the hand she brushed over the fabric of the vest was gentle. "Where did you find these?"
"Attic," the girl repeated. "There's a case with all kinds of things, but I wanted to know what these are."
Her mother ruffled her hair. "They're old, sweetheart, so mind you're careful with them when you're playing. What do you mean, 'what', though? It's a vest and studs, like your father wears. nothing too mysterious there."
"I know that," her daughter huffed. "But whose are they?"
"Whose? Well... I suppose he'd be something like your grand uncle," her mother allowed. "That was well before your time, munchkin. I hadn't even met your father yet."
"Oh." Abby frowned, leaning harder, and only wrinkled her nose as her mother took out a handkerchief to wipe at the dust on her cheeks with. "I guess that's okay, then."
"What's okay?" her mother asked, distracted by trying to scrub away a dirty smudge.
"It's okay if he's in the house," her daughter clarified. "I mean, if he's family then it's okay, right?"
That, at least, made the scrubbing stop. "...In the house?" her mother asked and Abby nodded enthusiastically.
"Just last week. I saw him on the stairs - it was lunchtime and I was going to go ask Cook if we could eat in the garden and he was there. So I introduced myself - I curtsied, Mama, and everything! - but he had papers and he looked like he was in a hurry and he was going upstairs so I thought he must be there to see you." It came out in a rush, because something in her mother's expression didn't seem quite right. "I told Ellil, but he said I was making things up, which I don't think is very nice, and I wasn't," she finished, triumphant, "because that's the vest he was wearing and he had these," she plucked one of the silver studs, charm engraved, out of the box, "on. So I wan't making it up, but it's okay if he's family, right?"
Her mother had the oddest expression. "Abby... Tabitha, what did he look like? Think, sweetheart, it might be important."
Full names were for important things, alright, and her mother's tone made Abby hunch her shoulder. "Um... he was wearing that vest, and he had black hair and he was wearing glasses - little ones, like Grandpa wears - and he was Daddy's height? Maybe? He had a whole bunch of papers. But it's okay, right? You said it is! If he's family then it's okay, he's allowed to be in the house. And I told Ellil! I did!"
"No, no, it's fine," her mother hastily reassured her. "I just wanted to make sure. It's alright, Abby. You did just as you should." Her smile wasn't quite right but Abby, relieved, didn't notice. "It'll be dinner time soon. Why don't you go wash up? Cook's not going to feed little girls who are all over dirt."
It wasn't until Abby had dashed back out again, the embodiment of childhood energy, that Catherine Avery let her aching head drop into her hands. Sighing, she took a few deep breaths, waiting for the first frantic alarmed skips of her heart to ease. Her gaze fell on the box and she picked one of the cufflinks out of it, rolling the engraved silver across her palm. The vest was cool beneath her elbows, the fabric washed soft and smooth with age, and she fancied that somewhere underneath the dust and cedar was a hint of spiced aftershave.
Sitting back up, she reached for her earpiece and slipped it on, dialing her phone.
It took six rings for her brother to answer and his voice, over the line, sounded groggy with sleep. His lover, she remembered belatedly, kept irregular working hours. "William? It's Catherine."
"Cat? I wasn't expecting you to call. What's up?" William, despite any other faults, had always been a good friend as well as older brother, and cheerily helpful.
Catherine took another deep breath. There really wasn't any good was to sidle up to the subject. "William... if Uncle Oscar was still around, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
The three beats of stunned silence over the phone before William found his tongue gave her most of the answer she needed. "Wha... ah... yes? Why?"
One more deep breath. "Because Tabitha saw him last week. Here, in the house. On the stairs. She only just now told me."
"Oh." More silence. "Well. That's just... um. No. No, he and Uncle Samuel moved on. After he died. That's all Uncle Samuel was waiting for, really. I haven't seen either of them since then."
"Then what," Catherine snapped, "in the name of all the Lords and Ladies is walking around my house?"
"Calm down!" her brother answered. "Calm down, Cat, you always get so worked up. It's not necessarily dangerous, you know. Most the time it's not. Look, alright, let's think about this... have you had Abby tested at all? Do we even know if she's got the mojo or not?"
"She's never shown any sign of it."
"Yeah, well, most kids don't. Until they do, and then there you are. Look, Cat, Uncle Oscar is definitely not still hanging around. I'd know. He's not. But there's other things... get somebody to test Abby. Especially for any of the Seeing or Reading lineages."
Catherine chewed on the tip of one thumbnail. "You think she's a past reader?"
"Maybe. Kind of sounds like it. Won't hurt to check." There was some muffled sound from the line as her brother moved around. "Um. If she is... you'll probably want to get a Cleanser in there. Do a good thorough smudging of everything."
"I know that," his sister said sharply, and then, curious, "...why?"
William made an odd noise. "Um. Well, if she's a past reader then it's that or you can have that whole birds and the bees talk way earlier than you really want to..."
Catherine choked. "What? William..."
"It wasn't me!" her brother protested. "I mean, unless she goes into my room, but no, really, not me. Just... you know... Uncle Oscar and Uncle Samuel lived there for years and to hear Uncle Caleb tell it I'm not sure there's anywhere they didn't..."
"Ugh!" It came out sounding remarkably like a fit of squeamishness her daughter might have, but Catherine couldn't help it. "Aaaagh! William! Oh gods, stop, I didn't need that mental image..."
"Trust me," William replied dryly, "I didn't either. Just get her tested, Cat. It's quick and easy and then you'll know. And... you know, in the meantime, get a Cleanser to do a once over on the place. It's an old house, it's probably chocked full of echoes."
Sighing, Catherine agreed that she would do just that, and then hung up. The last daylight outside was fading and downstairs she could hear Cook marshaling Abby into helping set the table. Pushing herself to her feet, she dropped the cufflink back into the box and snapped it closed. Picking the vest up, she shook it out and gently folded it. "Honestly," she told it. "Honestly, Uncle Oscar. And if you ever... in this office..." she gave herself a good shake. "Ugh. I don't want to know about it, that's for sure." Folded, she set it and the box aside, powered down her desk, snapped her pocket terminal open long enough to make a note to find someone among the Believers that she would trust to cleanse the house, and then went down to join her family for dinner.
Story/Character: Pinstripes: One Step Removed 'Verse / Catherine, Tabitha & William
Rating: PG
word count: 1,572
She found the case in the eaves, tucked behind a shabby jumble of furniture with a dusty canvas thrown over the lot, and like any good girl playing make-believe amidst the odds and ends of an attic she promptly opened it up. It yielded a treasure trove of musty delights to her young hands and imagination, but it was an armful of dusty blue fabric and a worn wooden case that she eventually carried back down the folding stairs to the main floor.
Her mother was in the office - she always was, at that time of day - and the girl leaned around the edge of the open door. "Mama? Mama, what..." but her mother was on the phone and held up a hand, shushing her, so the girl shut her mouth and leaned against the door frame, scuffing her feet against the carpet.
When the call was finished her mother clicked her terminal closed and pushed back from the big desk and beckoned her daughter in with a smile. "What is it, Abby? You've been quiet as a mouse and... oh, good heavens, how did you get so dusty?"
"In the attic," the girl replied. "You said I could play upstairs! But Mama, what're these?"
Her mother, presented with a lapful of fabric and box, looked startled. The fabric, shaken out and spread across the desk, was a man's waistcoat - silver shot hunter blue, cut in an old-style fashion, worn and a bit frayed from age and use and redolent with the scents of dust and cedar. The little box, pried open with a thumbnail, was lined in a dark blue velvet that was almost black, thin and threadbare around the edges, and two sets of silver cufflinks nestled inside.
Abby leaned against her mother's side, all bright dusty little girl curiosity. Her mother's expression was odd, and the hand she brushed over the fabric of the vest was gentle. "Where did you find these?"
"Attic," the girl repeated. "There's a case with all kinds of things, but I wanted to know what these are."
Her mother ruffled her hair. "They're old, sweetheart, so mind you're careful with them when you're playing. What do you mean, 'what', though? It's a vest and studs, like your father wears. nothing too mysterious there."
"I know that," her daughter huffed. "But whose are they?"
"Whose? Well... I suppose he'd be something like your grand uncle," her mother allowed. "That was well before your time, munchkin. I hadn't even met your father yet."
"Oh." Abby frowned, leaning harder, and only wrinkled her nose as her mother took out a handkerchief to wipe at the dust on her cheeks with. "I guess that's okay, then."
"What's okay?" her mother asked, distracted by trying to scrub away a dirty smudge.
"It's okay if he's in the house," her daughter clarified. "I mean, if he's family then it's okay, right?"
That, at least, made the scrubbing stop. "...In the house?" her mother asked and Abby nodded enthusiastically.
"Just last week. I saw him on the stairs - it was lunchtime and I was going to go ask Cook if we could eat in the garden and he was there. So I introduced myself - I curtsied, Mama, and everything! - but he had papers and he looked like he was in a hurry and he was going upstairs so I thought he must be there to see you." It came out in a rush, because something in her mother's expression didn't seem quite right. "I told Ellil, but he said I was making things up, which I don't think is very nice, and I wasn't," she finished, triumphant, "because that's the vest he was wearing and he had these," she plucked one of the silver studs, charm engraved, out of the box, "on. So I wan't making it up, but it's okay if he's family, right?"
Her mother had the oddest expression. "Abby... Tabitha, what did he look like? Think, sweetheart, it might be important."
Full names were for important things, alright, and her mother's tone made Abby hunch her shoulder. "Um... he was wearing that vest, and he had black hair and he was wearing glasses - little ones, like Grandpa wears - and he was Daddy's height? Maybe? He had a whole bunch of papers. But it's okay, right? You said it is! If he's family then it's okay, he's allowed to be in the house. And I told Ellil! I did!"
"No, no, it's fine," her mother hastily reassured her. "I just wanted to make sure. It's alright, Abby. You did just as you should." Her smile wasn't quite right but Abby, relieved, didn't notice. "It'll be dinner time soon. Why don't you go wash up? Cook's not going to feed little girls who are all over dirt."
It wasn't until Abby had dashed back out again, the embodiment of childhood energy, that Catherine Avery let her aching head drop into her hands. Sighing, she took a few deep breaths, waiting for the first frantic alarmed skips of her heart to ease. Her gaze fell on the box and she picked one of the cufflinks out of it, rolling the engraved silver across her palm. The vest was cool beneath her elbows, the fabric washed soft and smooth with age, and she fancied that somewhere underneath the dust and cedar was a hint of spiced aftershave.
Sitting back up, she reached for her earpiece and slipped it on, dialing her phone.
It took six rings for her brother to answer and his voice, over the line, sounded groggy with sleep. His lover, she remembered belatedly, kept irregular working hours. "William? It's Catherine."
"Cat? I wasn't expecting you to call. What's up?" William, despite any other faults, had always been a good friend as well as older brother, and cheerily helpful.
Catherine took another deep breath. There really wasn't any good was to sidle up to the subject. "William... if Uncle Oscar was still around, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
The three beats of stunned silence over the phone before William found his tongue gave her most of the answer she needed. "Wha... ah... yes? Why?"
One more deep breath. "Because Tabitha saw him last week. Here, in the house. On the stairs. She only just now told me."
"Oh." More silence. "Well. That's just... um. No. No, he and Uncle Samuel moved on. After he died. That's all Uncle Samuel was waiting for, really. I haven't seen either of them since then."
"Then what," Catherine snapped, "in the name of all the Lords and Ladies is walking around my house?"
"Calm down!" her brother answered. "Calm down, Cat, you always get so worked up. It's not necessarily dangerous, you know. Most the time it's not. Look, alright, let's think about this... have you had Abby tested at all? Do we even know if she's got the mojo or not?"
"She's never shown any sign of it."
"Yeah, well, most kids don't. Until they do, and then there you are. Look, Cat, Uncle Oscar is definitely not still hanging around. I'd know. He's not. But there's other things... get somebody to test Abby. Especially for any of the Seeing or Reading lineages."
Catherine chewed on the tip of one thumbnail. "You think she's a past reader?"
"Maybe. Kind of sounds like it. Won't hurt to check." There was some muffled sound from the line as her brother moved around. "Um. If she is... you'll probably want to get a Cleanser in there. Do a good thorough smudging of everything."
"I know that," his sister said sharply, and then, curious, "...why?"
William made an odd noise. "Um. Well, if she's a past reader then it's that or you can have that whole birds and the bees talk way earlier than you really want to..."
Catherine choked. "What? William..."
"It wasn't me!" her brother protested. "I mean, unless she goes into my room, but no, really, not me. Just... you know... Uncle Oscar and Uncle Samuel lived there for years and to hear Uncle Caleb tell it I'm not sure there's anywhere they didn't..."
"Ugh!" It came out sounding remarkably like a fit of squeamishness her daughter might have, but Catherine couldn't help it. "Aaaagh! William! Oh gods, stop, I didn't need that mental image..."
"Trust me," William replied dryly, "I didn't either. Just get her tested, Cat. It's quick and easy and then you'll know. And... you know, in the meantime, get a Cleanser to do a once over on the place. It's an old house, it's probably chocked full of echoes."
Sighing, Catherine agreed that she would do just that, and then hung up. The last daylight outside was fading and downstairs she could hear Cook marshaling Abby into helping set the table. Pushing herself to her feet, she dropped the cufflink back into the box and snapped it closed. Picking the vest up, she shook it out and gently folded it. "Honestly," she told it. "Honestly, Uncle Oscar. And if you ever... in this office..." she gave herself a good shake. "Ugh. I don't want to know about it, that's for sure." Folded, she set it and the box aside, powered down her desk, snapped her pocket terminal open long enough to make a note to find someone among the Believers that she would trust to cleanse the house, and then went down to join her family for dinner.