Miriam was a woman that could be charmed – if only on the surface level – without much more than a few well-placed compliments, smiles, and laughs. From how it appeared, her son was much the same.

Her daughter-in-law, however, did not care for such things. The response she gave was a simple dip of her head, while Miriam chattered on to Levi about how good of a husband he was for allowing his wife to pursue her interests – never mind that Mara had no interest in tailoring.

The Brennans were not the religious sort. Malachi was grateful for the simplicity of Arthur’s answer, for the vagueness of it. Briefly, his hand rested over the doctor’s, eclipsing it.

Before Mara could think to reply, Miriam’s agitation forced her to speak.

“That is very kind of you to say, Doctor Adams,” she began, taking up her fork to begin eating. With an uncomfortable laugh, she said, “I do think you give him too much credit. It is so generous of you to allow him to assist you.”

Finally acknowledging the man seated across from him, Levi offered Arthur another smile.

“I am not surprised, myself. I recall when I was younger, Mal doctored me when I needed stitches for my leg, and–”

“What?” Miriam interjected. Her smile was starting to strain, if only slightly. “When did this happen?”

Levi grabbed his own fork as he hummed, considering the question. “Oh… ’72?”

“How did it hurt you?”

“He did not,” Levi clarified quickly, “I believe I had been playing too roughly in the gardens, is all, and Mal – truly, I should apologize – he found me wailing over my injury. I was afraid to tell father, of course, so I had him tend to me himself. Quite a miracle that the scarring is not any worse than it is!”

Malachi’s thumb rubbed gently over Arthur’s.

While Miriam was, for the moment, silenced by what most likely was her own outrage, Levi took the opportunity to keep on.

“Do you get on well with your family, Arthur? Do you have any siblings?”