Frederic was browsing the marketplace this fine morning, haggling with vendors and greeting neighbors as he passed them by. A reclusive sort of man since his wife Patsy died, Frederic didn't call anyone his friend, but knew many an acquaintance through his profession. Being the only clockmaker in Whitby, his business was decently busy, and he'd seen most of the adults here in the market once or twice in his store. Passing by a younger woman he'd seen a few times around town, he tipped his old brown hat at her with a pleasant smile, knowing her name by her brother (a customer of his once or twice) and offered a polite, "Good mornin', Miss Calloway."