About a week had passed since Frederic Mulvahil first met Karen Calloway, and since then, three relevant things had happened to him:
1. His son, Clover, wouldn't stop asking him when he would get to see 'the angel of apples' again (for that's what he'd taken to calling Miss Calloway).
2. He'd set aside an hour each day to work on a small side project that he told himself was really nothing but was, in fact, really something.
3. He'd arranged a time and day to bring a few of his clocks to Miss Calloway, as she'd requested on their walk to her home last week, and the day had swiftly arrived.

Straightening the collar of his shirt as he approached the cheerful yellow house, Frederic noticed Clover (who, of course, had insisted on coming along) had the same crooked issue. Like father, like son, he supposed with a small smile as he stopped the boy before the front door of the yellow house. Clover had declared he would tow the wagon all the way there, but his arms got tired after barely a minute and so Frederic had taken over until they turned the corner into view of the yellow house, when Clover insisted on taking back the handle.

"Are you ready, soldier?" he asked with a grin as he crouched, fixing Clover's collar, and when the boy nodded fidgeting with his hands in his excitement, he tapped his nose. "Now, remember, Miss Calloway has two babies, so you mustn't shout or make noise or you'll wake them." Clover nodded, completely earnest, and Frederic stood back up, raising his fist to knock on the door. He took in and released a deep breath, then gave three raps on the wood.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the man from the market for the week since meeting him... It made her feel both guilty and exhilarated to know he was coming to see her with some of his wares. She had a clock but it was no ornate thing, just a plain one that hung on the wall of her parlor. She might just buy a clock, she thought, though it had been an excuse more than anything to see Frederic again.

She had just finished nursing her daughter when she heard the knock upon the door. "Just a moment, please," she called out to her waiting guests. She lay Niahm in her bassinet and moved to answer the door. Her smile was bright as she greeted the two fellows, "Welcome, do come in." She stepped aside to allow the two to pass.

All the thoughts Frederic had been trying to push away about Miss Calloway the last week came flooding back when she opened the door and smiled so brightly. It was those eyes, he told himself, he'd never seen anything so deep and warm and gentle while still holding a power in their gaze. His smile came immediately in return to hers as she welcomed him and Clover inside, and he felt that same sweet tug in his chest he'd felt last week when they'd spoken for the first time. They had a real connection, he couldn't deny that, and although it made him nervous, he was willing to accept it. After all, she was the first woman who'd caught his attention like this since Patsy died, and he hadn't realized until a week ago just how much he'd missed the company of courting a woman.

Clover beamed up at Miss Calloway, 'the angel of apples', and held out a small wind-up toy he'd hidden in his pocket. Even his father hadn't known he was going to do this, and Clover felt proud of himself as he held up the toy and said to Miss Calloway, "I want you to have this," just like he'd seen adults do when giving gifts to their dear ones, "for your babies when they can play with me!" He paused, scrunched up his nose as he thought, then added, still cheerful, "They're prob'ly too young to play now, but maybe in a few months!" For Clover, a month was practically a year, and so he assumed three months or so would be plenty of time for the pair of tiny beings to become his age, if they really tried hard to grow. Clover knew trying to get bigger worked, because for the last three weeks, he'd been stretching his arms up to the sky whenever he remembered (a sporadic exercise) to make him taller, and the last time his Pa had measured him against the doorway, he was another inch taller! Puffing up his chest at the memory of his success, Clover stood up on his tip-toes as he offered the toy to Miss Calloway, shifting constantly on those toes to retain his balance, a difficult thing to do when one's chest is puffed out with pride.

She couldn't help but get caught up in the man's gaze. Karen stood there for a moment as if mesmerized by his eyes, and then the boy spoke and broke the spell for the moment. She took the toy slowly and examined it, then gave Clover the biggest smile yet, "Thank ye, child. I bet they will both cherish it when they can play with it. Would ye like ta meet them? They are awake." In fact, one might hear a burble or two coming from the pair. She would lead them further into the colorful parlor where the walls were painted a cheerful cream color. The furniture was a mish-mash of stuff, and there were quilts and afghans strewn here and there to ward off the chill of winter. A cheery blaze was set in the hearth, crackling away and dispelling the cold. Not far, but not too close to the hearth either, were two bassinets. She set the toy on the mantle of the hearth for the world to admire.

Everything about the inside of this house felt warm and welcoming to Frederic, and how she carefully placed the toy on the mantel- one of his own tinkered creations -he felt his heart swell. The soft burbling of the babies brought him back to when Clover was just a newborn as well and he laid a gentle hand on his son's shoulder as he smiled softly at the memories. Both babes were beautiful, shining with the joy of new life, and Frederic realized he felt happier now than he had in months. 

"Which is Harold Jr, and which is Niahm?" he asked, careful to remain a respectful distance from the bassinets while still being able to see the twins.

She lifted Niahm out of the bassinet and brought her closer like the proud mama she was. "This one is Niahm," she said, kissing the downy forehead. The baby wriggled happily, a plump little thing with the dark hair of her father and her mother's eyes. She placed her back and then lifted Harold out of his bassinet, then showed him off as well. He was smaller than his sister, but also had dark hair and eyes. "And this is Harold." He was looking up at his mother with that gaze that only babies could pull off, his little tongue working in his mouth and spit accumulating at the corners of his little mouth. She put him back too and traced a loving finger over his cheek.

Clover leaned up over the side of one of the bassinets to see the baby better, but stepped back when Miss Calloway picked up the child- Niahm, the girl -and showed her to him and his Pa. Clover tilted his head at the babies in silent curiosity. Surely, he'd never been that small. Even when he was a baby, he must have been nearly the same size as he was now, because he could barely remember a time when he was even a little smaller. The little fingers of the babies curled adorably and Clover grinned, the balance of 'are-babies-cute-or-weird' tipping into the deep end of cute. He wanted to hold one of the babies, but he knew that would be a bad idea and so held his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be tempted to touch the babies.

"They're beautiful children," Frederic said, and he meant it. Both children had Miss Calloway's stunning dark eyes which seemed almost doe-like, sweet and mooning, when those of a baby's. Niahm was that one- and Harold Jr was the other- he made a mental note to remember which was which. Clearly Miss Calloway loved her babies dearly, and Frederic felt his heart warm even more, if that was even possible. The love of a child, he knew, was a powerful thing, and he was rather glad to know they shared that experience.

"Thank you," she said. She looked at the two then and remembered her manners. "Oh, shall I put on some tea?" she asked. Her eyes were earnest as she regarded father and son. Karen looked up at Fred with a smile then... not a shy smile but a nervous one. It was clear that she was as interested in him as he was in her but she had more cause to be nervous being that she was more freshly widowed than he. "I can put the kettle on right now if you wish."