Lots of New Friends
The phone rang in the middle of the commercials. It was a boring American beer commercial, and Dayle wasn't too annoyed.
When the heavy British accent flowed out of the receiver, Dayle heard her own laughing echoing off the walls of the kitchen.
"Hello Mum."
"Greetings Blissot!"
"Mum, call me Dayle, please? I've asked you for years..."
"I know you have, poppet, but you do realize that I've been your mother for longer than you've needed a less strange name?"
"Mum, do you know how many people know what Blissot means anymore? Probably only folks who know Olde English and maybe people who pay attention in their language classes."
"Speaking of Olde English, I'm not calling you too late, am I dear?"
"No Mum, we're five hours behind you."
"You know I'd rather you be getting good sleep than worrying about the time."
"Thank you, Mum, I do try to keep my sleep patterns regular."
"Glad to hear it. You know I do still worry about you. How are you? How's your sister?"
"We're fine, Mum, we're both working now and ..." Dayle realized maybe she shouldn't tell Elsa about Ysabel's boyfriend. "It's quite a lovely city. Much more open than London, wider streets. Less rain, but we do have hurricane warnings."
"Oh, dear. Now that you've told me that you know I'll worry more than I already have."
"Mum, be serious. Just because your daughters moved to the other side of the pond -" she made a mock gasp "- and are living near and among Colonials doesn't mean we're destined for some nasty end."
"Don't be flippant with me, girl-"
"Mum. Flippant is my middle name. You should know that by now." She held her tongue in check, knowing the conversation was only going to become a mudslinging match. "How's Father? Still off on his Asian tour?"
"Oh, he's fine, he rang me earlier. Found himself a nice geisha to play with while he was there. He said the Japanese blood is a bit thinner than we're used to but the texture's quite different. Must be all the different food they eat. You remember Mrs. Hodges? Amelia, the upstairs maid? She died last week, had a heart attack while cleaning the Armory. I don't know why she insisted upon doing it, she couldn't even barely open the door let alone pick up the swords to dust them..."
"Oh, Mum, I'm so sorry. I know she was one of our oldest living familiars... Did she have any kin?"
"None that have come forward. We've put out the usual inquiries but she was over fifty years older than most of her kin would expect to remember."
"Well, I hope you find someone."
"We shall. If we don't, we'll manage. I suppose I could learn what some of the new cleaners do, instead of hiring someone for a few years."
Pursing her lips to prevent herself from laughing again, Dayle simply replied, "Whatever you think will work, Mother."
Holding back a sigh, Dayle found herself slipping into an 'I'm being interrogated, let's get this done and overwith' tone as she replied, "No Mother, most of my time here so far has been spent exploring or working."
"And you haven't met any prospects at all?" Dayle knew how much it took for Elsa to repeat herself. She'd known quite well what Elsa was asking, but for some reason her mother saw fit to pry...
"Well, I've met quite a few men, Mother, just none that would enjoy the status of being my prospect."
"Not even the other type of prospect, dear?"
"No mother." Dayle busied her hands with folding some of her laundry while her mother interrogated her. She found it quite charming how her overly proper adopted mother found ways to ask "have you gotten laid? have you found a boytoy? Or even a girltoy?" but somehow still managed to withhold any mirth.
"Very well then. How about Ysabel? You're taking care of her, yes?"
"Of course, Mother. But any questions about prospects or her job or anything else related to my twin sister will of course need to be directed to her. I will certainly let her know you called."
"Very well. It's been quite nice talking to you Blissot, you know you should call more often, or write..."
"You've a letter in the mail, Mother, as well as pictures of us in our new place. You should receive it soon."
"That's wonderful, dear. Do keep in touch and tell your sister I called."
"I will Mum, give our love to Father."
"Will do. Ta ta."
The dialtone had migrated to the harsh warning alarm-sound by the time Dayle realized her mother had hung up the line. Shaking her head, she dropped the pile of socks and panties on her bed, then returned to the kitchen. She couldn't even fathom how she'd gotten from couch to kitchen to laundry to her bedroom in such a short span of time.
But then being interrogated by her mother had always given her cause to pace.
She took the stairs up to their condo at Ambrose's pace, not at all put out to be going up them a bit slower than usual. Ysabel did, however, hurry up the last few to open the door.
Stepping inside, she called out Dayle's name and discovered her sister was, indeed, fully clothed, as she stepped out of the kitchen. Ysabel smiled and turned as Ambrose entered, her introductions slightly casual.
"Ambrose, this is my sister, Blissot Daylof... call her Dayle. Dayle, Ambrose Townsend."
That said, she stepped back with a little smile to let Ambrose all the way into the living room.
Closing the door behind him he turned and followed Belle in. Well that was a surprise. His first look at Blissot, Dayle was sort of disorienting. That was Belle but not Belle. He was surprised she hadn’t mentioned she was a twin and she must have been, there was no way around it. Modern hair and cloths couldn’t hide that.
Stepping the rest of the way in he gave Belle a slightly questioning look and offered his hand to her sister.
“Nice too meet you Dayle.”
She'd decided against the ones that read "Menage a trois? Sil vous plait" or the one that said "British is the definition for 'refined' in the original English."
Looking up into Ambrose's brown eyes, she smiled and extended her hand to shake his. "Likewise, charmed, and I suppose I should include in the requisite 'of course it is' oh and don't forget the 'if you hurt my sister I'll hunt you down' part, just to get it out of the way, but I'd rather start off on a good note." She winked at the taller man and released his hand.
"Come in, won't you? Please, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I'd made a small snack tray to nibble on and we have water, tea, Guinness - lots of Guinness actually - and something with a bit more iron in it, if you're so inclined..." Dayle actually found herself a little unsure of what to do. This was the first time her sister had ever brought her boyfriend home to meet her. Her eleven husbands didn't count, as those were always met through family functions - if Dayle was allowed to meet them at all, being the twin of Ysabel - and not in what Dayle had read or seen in movies as a true, sisterly introduction. "I hope you don't mind my saying that I've been looking forward to meeting the man who has put a smile on my sister's face, and a sparkle in her eye. Not that she'd admit to her eyes sparkling -" she grabbed her sister's hand gently to pull her into view of Ambrose, and pointed at her lips and eyes "- but there it is."
"You made a snack tray? How lovely! I didn't realize the introductions would warrant such special treatment!"
She couldn't help blushing when Dayle made a fuss, pointing out her so-called sparkling eyes and smiling lips, although she couldn't deny that they might have been, at that point. She batted her sister's hand away playfully and then pulled her close to kiss her cheek before returning to Ambrose's side and slipping her hand into his larger one. For the most part, she wanted to let the two talk and see for herself how they got along. She did, however, pull Ambrose gently into the living room, indicating that he should have a seat on the couch if he liked.
Ambrose flashed a wicked grin back at her wink. The manners were different from Belle’s more open but still polite. Dayle had prepared for having a guest, right down to the iron. The thought was considerate, but he preferred his meals be fresher, if possible.
“Guinness sounds like a plan thanks.”
He tried to remember if his sisters had ever related to each other like that. It had been so long since he’d thought about his family Ambrose couldn’t say for sure. Of course, none of his sisters were twins either.
“I didn’t realize I’d put anything any where.” He turned to face Belle, “They’ve been there since I met you haven’t they?”
"Two Guinness coming up. Ysabel? Any preference?"
When Ambrose made his comment about putting not 'putting anything anywhere' Dayle found herself choking to hold back laughter. Covering her mouth and holding her breath, she stole into the kitchen and, leaning on the counter, let out a momentary peal of laughter. Coughing to get herself under control, she pulled two of the dark cans from the refrigerator and set them aside while she wrangled with the tray of assorted cheeses and meats, vegetables and dip.
Considering the drink choices she opted for white wine instead, her preferred drink, but she couldn't let Dayle serve her in her own home; that just felt wrong.
She squeezed Ambrose's hand and said, "I'll be right back. Let me help Dayle."
With that she followed her sister into the kitchen just in time to see and hear her giggle. She arched her eyebrows, a smile of pure amusement on her face as she guessed what might have made Dayle laugh.
"I'm not admitting to anything," she said with a faked air of hauteur. She did, however, offer her sister a cheeky grin and a wink as she relieved her of two cans of Guinness and her own small glass of white wine.
Balancing both cans in one hand and carrying her wineglass in the other, she made use of a bit of telekinesis to ensure the cans stayed upright while she returned to the living room. Placing everything on the table in front of the sofa, she took a seat at the end of it.
"I'm sorry," she murmured to Ambrose, knowing full well his vast preference for bottled over canned. "Apparently our supply is somewhat limited tonight. I can get you something else if you'd prefer."
He hadn’t realized he was scowling until Belle said something. He smiled quickly at her while debating whether to be polite or snub the can. Snubbing the can won out, he just couldn’t stand the taste no matter what you did it was metallic and tinny.
“Water might work.”
He felt certain you couldn’t put water in a can and while Ambrose would have loved a beer, he had standards.
Swallowing a small laugh at Dayle going into the details of the snack tray while trying not to talk to her mouth full Ambrose looked sideways at the food.
“I don’t think I realized there were that many kinds of cheese.”
"That's beautiful Dayle, you didn't have to go through so much trouble."
She caught Ambrose's skeptical glance and bit back a soft laugh. He almost looked intimidated by the array. As if to prove nothing on the tray would bite, she picked up a toothpick and speared a helpless strawberry on it, dipping it into her wine and nibbling delicately.
"You've outdone yourself."
In this particular setting, ysabel felt no urgency to play the hostess. Not only was Dayle perfectly capable of doing so, she wanted the two to get to know each other in their own way. She was perfectly content to be a less active participant than usual unless it seemed necessary to step in, but Ysabel had every faith in Dayle's and Ambrose's ability to converse on their own terms.
Smiling at her sister's boyfriend, then turning an appreciative glance to her twin, she returned to the kitchen. As she opened boxes of assorted crackers and biscuits, she allowed herself a sigh. "So Ambrose is a beer snob, no big deal. He's an American. He probably wouldn't know a good Guinness if it drove down the street on four wheels blaring a horn at him." She shook her head to dislodge that thought. She promised herself first that she wouldn't wish that on Ambrose because, not only did he not deserve it, but neither did her sister. And second, that she would teach him that Guinness from a can or bottle was the same, but from draft it was almost like sex in a glass.
Not that she had had any sex in the last four or five decades to compare it to, but one took her jollies where she could get them.
She returned to the living room again, this time with a small tray of crackers (Ritz, wheat thins, Triscuits, and assorted thin biscuits) and some napkins. "I'm sorry about the beer, Ambrose. Personally I think the canned and bottled versions are very good, but from draft... Next time the three of us go out, I'll treat you to some draft Guinness."
But this was one of the reasons Ambrose drove. If the cabbies spoke any kind of language he understood, maybe. As it was not only did they not speak English they drove like mad men and the last thing he wanted was to be the ‘casualty’ of a car accident and have to start over. He was just getting the hang of this life.
“Guinness on tap? Sounds promising. Do I have to drink it at room temperature?”
Why did the English, Europeans to be fair, insist on warm beer? It wasn’t nearly as refreshing. He understood that not all beer should be ice cold but warm just made it nasty, worse than a can.
But this was one of the reasons Ambrose drove. If the cabbies spoke any kind of language he understood, maybe. As it was not only did they not speak English they drove like mad men and the last thing he wanted was to be the ‘casualty’ of a car accident and have to start over. He was just getting the hang of this life.
“Guinness on tap? Sounds promising. Do I have to drink it at room temperature?”
Why did the English, Europeans to be fair, insist on warm beer? It wasn’t nearly as refreshing. He understood that not all beer should be ice cold but warm just made it nasty, worse than a can.
Leaning forward from her chair, she picked up a small handful of crackers and a couple pieces of broccoli. "Of course, there's very little I won't try once. Like Miller Lite... it tastes like ginger pop to me. Strange, no?" Smirking, Dayle hid her mouth with her hand as she crunched into a broccoli tree.
Keeping a keen ear tuned to the conversation she contented herself with further nibbling on Dayle's spectacular snack tray. She tried her best not to steal too much of any one particular type of food, but strawberries were something of a weakness for her, and dipped in white wine they were irresistable.
When Dayle mentioned ginger pop, she did raise a skeptical eyebrow, having tried said Miller Lite and finding it nowhere near as enjoyable as ginger pop. Still, she didn't comment even though her lips twitched up at the memory.
“What the hell is a ginger pop?”
That was a new one on him. Probably a British thing, like dipping the strawberries into the wine. If Belle didn’t knock that off she was going to wind up getting tackled and Ambrose had promised himself he wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her sister. Not deliberately.
Of course, Dayle didn't want to tell Ambrose what she truly thought of the watered down, completely transparent American definition of 'beer.' Thinking on the fly got her a funny look sometimes, and it seemed this was no exception. "You Americans have so many different names for the same things. Pop, soda, Coke. Hoagies, torpedos, subs. Makes things difficult if you're transplants like us."
Ambrose’s expression was clearly one of distaste, he couldn’t stand the stuff. If you were going to put the word ‘ale’ in something’s name, well it had better do more than settle an upset stomach.
“No matter how bad any beer is better than that stuff.”
He laughed at her complaint about American slang. While he hadn’t been off the North American continent, he had worked with enough British musicians to be thoroughly confused on more than one occasion. And returned her quip with a less than serious retort.
“Americans? Nah I won’t limit it to us you Brits have got a few odd ones of your own.”
"Blimey... Ambrose has his bloody blinkers on when it comes to his brews. But horses for courses, right Dayle? The beer in a can was already naff, and now you've got to throw a spanner in the works with all this whinging about ginger pop and slang? It was going like a bomb till then."
The reproof wasn't at all meant seriously, but Dayle would know that. Ysabel gave Ambrose one more cheeky little grin bfore saying "All right?" and popping her strawberry into her mouth.