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“Okay okay, tell me what you have so far again,” Lady Ruth insists, bringing out another tray of egg salad sandwiches, and setting them on the tea table.
Simon smiles wide. I think he’s equally excited for the wedding and the sandwiches.
“Baz has a necklace his great-grandmother passed down, for something old. We figured our suits will count for something new. We don’t have something borrowed-”
“And Simon’s eyes are perfectly blue,” I add, so I can watch that lovely blush spread across his freckled cheeks.
“We’ll have blue flowers,” Simon tells his grandmother.
We will have hyacinth in the bouquets, but I’m still considering Simon’s eyes as our blue thing.
“Something borrowed then…” Lady Ruth ponders while sipping her tea. “I’m sure I can think of something for you.”
Simon’s leg starts bouncing while he finishes off a sandwich, and starts on another.
“I mean, I’m sure Penny or Shepard will come up with something. You’ve already done so much, helping with the catering, I don’t want to put too much on you.”
Simon’s been very nervous through the whole wedding process. It took him days to build up the courage to ask Penny to be his best woman. We’re working on it. Simon confessed to me that despite his confidence in us, and his friends, in the back of his mind he's worried he'll show up on the wedding day and no one will be there.
“Sweety, how could I not help! You’re my only grandchild. And it's such a lovely tradition, lots of good magic can come from it. Oh!” Lady Ruth exclaims, her face lighting up- “ I have just the thing,” she declares. Lady Ruth stands from her chair, and gives us a wait here gesture before heading down the hall of her house. Her footsteps get quieter as she makes her way up stairs.
Simon’s leg keeps bouncing, and he slumps back in his chair.
I place a hand on his knee, hoping to calm him.
“Should I just tell her Shepard called and he has some cuff-links for me to borrow or something?” Simon asks, looking at me with a tense expression.
“Why would you do that?” I ask, though I have a pretty good idea what he’s thinking.
“I-because-I can’t- she's gonna come down here with some priceless family heirloom and I can’t handle that.”
“Simon, she said she wants to help.”
“Yeah, but I can’t take family heirlooms, or sentimental things! She shouldn’t just trust strangers like that.”
“Love-” I move closer to him, holding Simon as much as I can- “You’re family. They're your heirlooms.”
It's a conversation we’ve had many times over the years. Simon is close with his grandmother and uncle now, but he still has a hard time thinking of himself as part of their family. He has a hard time accepting that they’d want him as family.
“I know, it’s-it’s just hard to adjust to accept. Like, why me, right?”
“It’s because she loves you, Simon,” I remind him.
Simon relaxes slightly. He lets out a sigh. “God, who knew being loved was so hard,” he jokes.
I smile, and raise an eyebrow. “Yes, who could have known growing up without proper care and affection would leave lasting effects on the psyche.”
Simon nuges me with his elbow. “I still don’t know if I can accept whatever she brings down here.”
“That’s assuming you have a say in the matter, only grandchild ,” I tease.
Simon huffs and rolls his eyes. Then he plants a warm kiss on my cheek and it’s my turn to be bashful. This all still feels like a dream sometimes. I must have been a saint twice over in my past life to deserve Simon Snow.
We sit in silence, waiting for Lady Ruth’s return. When we hear the creak of the stairs, Simon sits up straight again, and tenses his hands.
I set down my cup of tea.
Lady Ruth enters the sitting room with a handkerchief in hand. It looks like it used to be white, but with time and handling, it’s become a loved yellow.
Ruth comes to Simon’s other side, and unfolds the cloth.
“It was your grandfather’s,” she tells us. “He wore it in his breast pocket when we married.”
We all look at the handkerchief. His initials are embroidered in one corner with silky black thread. The edges are decorated with delicate lace.
“His older sister added the lace. She was a talented lacemaker, and could weave spells into her work.”
“It's stunning,” I remark, taking in the details of the lace. Weaving spells into cloth is an old, almost lost, tradition.
“It’s beautiful,” Simon says quietly, gaze captured by the handkerchief. “But I can't take it. I could ruin it.”
“I want you to have it.” Lady Ruth insists. She presses the delicate cloth into Simon's hand.
He pushes it back towards her.
“Ruth-Grandma, I… I can’t take this from you.”
“You’re borrowing it, dear, not taking.” Lady Ruth smiles. “So bring it right back after the honeymoon.” She pats Simon’s hand with the handkerchief in it, pushing it back towards his chest.
Simon looks like he might cry, but he’s smiling so wide.
“I-” he wipes at the corner of his eye “What if I lose it?”
“Then I’ll be happy knowing the handkerchief got a day with you at your wedding instead of being stuck in my closet.”
Simon just stares at the cloth in his hands.
“Andrew would have wanted this.” Lady Ruth adds.
Simon looks up at her, tears welling up. He stands and wraps his grandmother in a tight hug.