Moving In

[very_sharpe]

Thomas stretched after setting down a box of books in the living room. He'd gotten everything out of the apartment, and most of his boxes were in the spare room for now, to be sorted at his leisure. Important things had already been put in appropriate rooms: clothes were in the bedroom, a few boxes of books down here to put away wherever they would fit. His desk had gone up in the spare room; the rats were currently settled in Saoirse's room. He was quite grateful that the little girl liked them and that Greta was allowing them in her house. He wasn't sure he'd ever get her to warm up to them, but they were pets he could share with Saoirse.

He headed back out to make sure there was nothing left on the truck before he sent the driver on his way. That made things easier, at least - he'd hired a couple of men to help him get things out of the old apartment.

"Greta?" he called as he moved into the kitchen. He had a small box of things in there. He'd just sort of packed everything, figuring he would deal with getting rid of things later.

"I got rid of most of my dishes, except the mugs you said you liked, but I wasn't sure about some of these other things."

Comments

[very_sharpe]

"I know, but I don't want to take away too much from you or Saoirse. And, honestly, I should get someone to help me that knows what they're doing a bit more. Or maybe I can find one that's sort of... pre-fabricated and I can make improvements."

The wheels were already turning in his head as he tried to sort out how much room he might need to do what he wanted to do. He didn't want something as large as the workshop behind his actual storefront, but somewhere that he could tinker without putting the house in danger would be nice.

He'd have to put more thought into it, and he'd have to run his thoughts by Greta. Thomas found that he rather liked that idea, very much in fact. He smiled almost shyly and tipped his head down.

"I'm looking forward to it, actually. Is it silly to have little fantasies about you just calling out the back door to tell me it's dinner time?"

[andhiswife]

"They do sell little garden sheds." She's seen them in the garden sections of the some of the bigger box stores, though she's never been tempted to buy one. How is anyone supposed to get something like that home? Maybe it could just get delivered, or maybe it arrives in more portable pieces that you have to assemble. Either way, there wasn't much of a draw; she's never been short on storage.

It might not be a bad starting point for a workshop, though. "You might have a hard time turning around in one, though," she points out with a wry smile. "It'd need some adjusting. But I'm sure you could work something out." He builds things for a living, after all.

She grins outright at his little fantasy, having already come up with similar ones, herself. "Or sending Saoirse out to fetch you? Or coming to pester you when you've been holed up so long that I fear you've lost track of the time?"

[very_sharpe]

"Yes, precisely that," he said with a soft smile. The idea of Saoirse coming out to fetch him from the shed. Maybe she might like to build some things with him, or give him ideas for new things to try. She was a clever little girl, after all, bright and creative.

He smiled at Greta and leaned close to kiss her temple.

"I love you," he said quietly, like it was something he wanted to keep precious and safe between them. It was a feeling he didn't dare have for so long, it felt like something he had to protect now.

"Are you up for helping me try to sort the spare room? Are you sure you don't mind me using it for a bit of an office? I feel like I'm taking over."

[andhiswife]

Greta leans into the kiss with a soft, satisfied hum. His words might not be set to music, but there's still something about the way he says them -- as if they're meant for her ears alone -- that gives them a similar, comforting weight. She doesn't need a melody to believe him, anymore.

"Oh, good," she says, opening her eyes and smiling up at him. "Otherwise, my loving you would be awfully inconvenient."

She starts towards the spare room with a hum of agreement by the time he's finished his first question, but glances back in surprise when the second one lands. "Of course I don't mind. Someone ought to use it."

She's kept some of her own crafting supplies in there, but she rarely works in the room itself. In part, it's because she never went far enough towards making it not a nursery to banish the memories of when it was one, and even with Saoirse and all the children at the Gardens in her life, it had still made her a little bit sad. A workshop, on the other hand, is a clear departure from the room's original intent, and she thinks it's exactly what the space needs.

So she gives him a reassuring smile, and adds, "Besides, I hardly think one room constitutes 'taking over.' This is your home, too."

[very_sharpe]

"I don't need to take over all of it. A quiet place to do his books and sketch, though usually he could do his drawing anywhere. Accounting, however, took a certain amount of focus and the idea of having a little retreat did give him relief. So did the fine-tuning of his design work, especially for complicated pieces.

"I know, but-- well, it was your house first. But I suppose I ought act like I live here and not a like a prolonged guest."

When they made it to the spare room, Thomas put his hands on his hips and just sort of looked it over. He had a secretary desk set up in the corner, but close to the window so that he would get the light.

[andhiswife]

"You need a workspace," she says simply, as if that's all there is to it. And until he can get a shed up and running, he might as well use a room that wouldn't have much use, otherwise.

She could add that it was the Poldarks' house, first. It's tempting, if only to make the point that she's made it her own, because it's what they would have wanted, and so it makes perfect sense for him to settle in in a similar fashion. But he doesn't seem to need that much help reaching that realization, and all she has to do in the end is say, "Exactly." Taking his arm, giving it a brief squeeze, she adds, "You're not a boarder. And even if you were, I'd expect you to have a room that was all yours."

The desk is the only object in the room that seems to have found a place for itself, and Greta nods at the pile of boxes that occupy a good chunk of the floorspace. "We could get these over to the corner opposite the desk, so you won't be tripping over them. Starting with the ones you won't need to get into right away?" She knows a few of them will keep longer than others, and she doesn't want him to have to dig for the more immediate necessities.

[very_sharpe]

"Yes, I think that's the way to go about it. Here."

He pulled the secretary desk open, revealing all the nooks and crannies for filing and organization that were, currently, empty. They did have little labels, though: invoices, custom orders, supply orders, payroll. The boxes were equally meticulous in their labeling - the last thing he wanted was to bury something important and not find it for months.

With Greta's help, moving the boxes went quickly, and they managed to organize the pile in such a way that even if he did need to dig, it wouldn't take terribly long.

"Would you mind filing these as I hand them to you?" Like a little assembly line, he figured it would just go faster rather than both of them trying to poke around. He knew what was in all the boxes, and Greta was perfectly capable of reading a label on a desk file box. "I'd like the desk at least sorted before I call it finished for now."

[andhiswife]

Greta has seen the desk before, which is the only thing that keeps her from exclaiming over it, now. But she likes how cleverly it's put together (and leave it to Thomas to acquire furniture that's as complex, in its own way, as some of his creations), and how organized it is. Bookkeeping is one of the aspects of business ownership that she doesn't especially miss, but she can appreciate that he's at least going about it in a manner that ought to minimize frustration -- and mistakes.

"Of course," she says, plunking herself down in the desk's accompanying swivel chair and glancing over the labels, familiarizing herself with what goes where before they begin. "Should be easy enough, from the looks of things."

And it is. They settle into a rhythm after a minute or two, and Thomas was careful enough when he packed them that there aren't any surprises. Before too long, the desk's myriad little cubbies are full, and Greta sits back with a satisfied little smile. "There we are. You could get right to work. Not that you ought to," she adds, getting to her feet. "If anything, I'd say you've earned a break."