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“There's a chill in the air,” warns Greta as Hayden slips a thick, purple sweater over his head. It’s indeed a brisk fall morning, but that’s never slowed him down before.
“Thanks, Grandmother. I’ll be sure to bundle up Henrietta before I let her go out.”
Greta frowns. “I’m talking about you bundling up, my boy. This winter is going to be very harsh; I can feel it in my bones.”
Hayden smiles. “Your bones are never wrong, Grandmother. I’ll be sure to dig out my old coat tonight.” He crosses the room to the overstuffed easy chair that Greta now permanently resides in and gives her a kiss on the forehead. “Thanks for looking out for me, Grandma.”
“Of course, dearie.”
That night Hayden pulls his winter coat out of the back of his closet. It’s seen better days for sure; it’s threadbare in many places and is already a patchwork of, well, patches where his grandmother has repaired it by hand when he’s torn a hole in the tweed. He finds a new hole in the back and sighs. His grandmother is getting so weak now and her eyes are failing her, but he’ll have to see if she can patch it up for him before the winter storms come. He sets it aside and goes to bed.
The next morning he sheepishly approaches his grandmother, coat in hand.
“Grandmother… I hate to ask, but do you think you can patch up my coat?”
She takes the garment from him and looks it over, frowning. “Oh, Hayden, this coat has seen far better days.”
“I know, but it was a gift from you and it means the world to me. Plus it’s a good coat!”
She tsks. “I’ll see what I can do, my dear. Give me some time. I’ll have it ready before winter.”
“Thank you.” As he does every day, he gives her a kiss on the forehead before heading out to tend to the animals.
Hayden knows it takes a while for her to mend the coat; her hands are gnarled and arthritic now, so he doesn't pester her with updates. She said it’d be done before winter, and so he puts his trust in her.
It’s a few days before the end of fall when Hayden comes back inside after a visit to the inn that Greta calls him over to her.
She smiles a gummy smile up at him, her eyes twinkling. “It’s ready,” she announces.
“Grandmother, thank you so much!” He casts his gaze around but doesn't see the coat anywhere. “Uh… where is it, Grandmother?”
She reaches down beside her arm chair and pulls up a large garment box the color of pale eggshells, complete with a fat, red ribbon tied around it. “Here it is,” she says as she passes it over to him.
“Oh, you didn’t have to wrap it!” he says with a chuckle, but as he takes the box from her, he notices that it’s by far heavier than his coat should be. “Um…”
“Open it up,” she says, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
Warily, he slips off the ribbon and opens the box. The scent of soft leather reaches his nose, reminiscent of worn saddles and a childhood spent riding horses. Inside the box is a fine, tan leather jacket with soft wool lining. “Grandmother-!” he starts, but is at a loss of words and cannot finish his statement.
“Please, try it on.”
“How did you get this…?” he asks as he removes it from the box and shrugs it on. It fits perfectly, a little loose to allow for movement, but warm and cozy; perfect for enduring harsh winter blizzards.
“Oh, when that young merchant Balor came by to visit I talked him into doing me a favor at the Saturday market and delivering my request to Louis since I am no longer able to visit.”
“It’s splendid,” he remarks, flexing and bending as he admires the jacket. “But… this must have cost a fortune!”
“Don’t you worry about the cost, dearie. Your safety and warmth are worth more than all the tesserae in the world. Oh, you look so handsome in it!”
Hayden beams and leans down to give Greta a bear hug. “Thank you so much, Grandmother! I’ll be sure to survive whatever the elements throw my way now!”
“Very good,” she chuckles.
A clucking noise at his feet draws their attention and they spot Henrietta pecking at the ribbon which had slipped onto the wooden floorboards.
“I think Henrietta wants to get dressed up, too!” remarks Hayden. He scoops her and the ribbon up and ties the ribbon around her neck. She clucks proudly and preens her feathers.
“I think she likes it!”
“You look gorgeous with your new ribbon, Henrietta,” says Greta, approvingly, and the chicken ruffles her feathers at the praise. Greta turns back to her grandson. “Now, go out there and conquer the world, my young man,” she says.
“Of course, Grandmother." He gives her his usual kiss on the forehead before turning towards the door. “Come, Henrietta!”