Visiting Elinor (27 Sep 2001) Tom drops by the Travison residence to deliver a message to Elinor.

Travison Kitchen
Wood-grain cabinets and laminated countertops make this room look a lot like the kitchens of the other Ainigton homes. The lanolin floor tiles follow a pattern in shades of green, and a matching tablecloth covers the round wooden table against the inside wall. The sink and stove are against the outer wall, with a window over the sink and curtains to match the tablecloth and floor.

Tom arrived at the Travisons' house in the evening, and Mrs. Travison invited him inside. "We just finished dinner, Tom. Elinor's in the kitchen cleaning up."

On entering the room, he finds the girl with her long black hair pinned up, standing beside the sink. She holds a dishtowel in one hand, using it to dry off an ornate silver dining fork. Beside her on the countertop is a wooden silverware case with velvet-lined compartments. She looks away from her work to smile at the teenage boy. "Hello, Thomas," she says, her peculiar accent marking the words.

Thomas waves slightly and smiles back. "Um, hi there, Elinor. Hope I'm not interrupting you. I was just gonna drop off a note. If you're really busy I can just leave it here on the counter," The boy says as he moves over to a nearby countertop and leans back against it lightly. His fingers tap against the counter edge noiselessly, nervously.

"I am just helping Mrs. Travison clean," she answers, tilting her head to one side as she watches him.

Mrs. Travison takes a stack of dried plates from the counter opposite her, and starts putting them away with a faint clatter. Elinor finishes drying the fork in her hand and sets it carefully in the wooden box, then takes a wet silver spoon with an ornamented handle and begins drying it.

Tom glances about the kitchen, trying to make sure he doesn't stare. Unfortunately, he can't help but let his gaze drift back to the raven haired girl. "It's just some stuff about the group game and all," Tom explains quickly. "I know I coulda just left it in the mailbox, or whatever, but I figured I'd just give it directly to you to make sure you got it. Seems silly to write a note about stuff, then give it directly to the person, doesn't it? I mean, I could just tell you about it ... I'm babbling, aren't I?" The boy inwardly groans and covers his face with his hands. A moment later, he asks, "Want me to help dry?" "If I keep busy, maybe I won't babble," he thinks.

The girl doesn't seem distressed by his apparent tendency to ramble. She smiles, instead, brushing a lock of hair from her face, using her wet fingertips to smooth it into place with the rest, pinned to the top of her head. "If you are sure you do not mind," she answers, holding out the towel to him. Her smile grows a little, revealing even white teeth, as she continues, "May I read the note now?"

Tom takes the towel in one hand and digs into his pocket with the other. "No, I don't mind at all. You want to read it right now? Um, sure. It's not terribly long or anything, but there's some maps and junk in there too," he says as he produced a crumpled envelope from his pocket. He holds it out to her.

Exchanging the towel for envelope, Elinor steps aside to let Tom have access to the pile of damp silverware in the dish drain beside the sink. She opens the letter solemnly, removing the folded missive and map from inside it.

Tom scoots hurriedly over to the damp pile of silverware. Carefully, he picks up a fork and dries it with the towel, then sets it aside where he saw Elinor placing them. He picks up a rhythm of drying silverware, facing slightly away from the raven haired girl and quiet; almost quiet enough to hear his own heart beat nervously. After a short while, drying the silverware does seem to be doing the trick. With something else to focus on, his nerves slowly calm down.

As he calms down, he can't help but notice that the silverware he's drying seems awfully fancy for a regular meal. It feels heavy, too -- it probably really is silverware. Elinor takes her time reading the note -- it feels like it takes her far longer to finish it than it ought to -- and then she turns to the map for a moment. Finally, she looks to the boy again, and nods. "All right. I will see you tomorrow, at 2 o'clock, Thomas," she answers.

"Where are you two going?" Mrs. Travison interjects after overhearing. She stows the milk pitcher back in the refrigerator and wipes off the tablecloth.

"Over to a fort I've been building for our game," Tom explains. "I want to show it off. Agatha and Simon have already seen it. Plus, our game kinda stalled out and I want to run some ideas by Elinor. It's not too far from the stables."

"It is all right if I go, is it not, Mrs. Travison?" Elinor asks, glancing to her hostess.

Rebecca's mom nods. "Sure, honey! Have fun. That sounds very exciting, Tom -- your own fort. Did your dad help you build it?"

"He sure did," Tom replies, "He made sure everything was built safely and helped me design it."

"That was good of him," Mrs. Travison says, nodding approvingly. Elinor reaches past Tom to slide the now-filled silverware case towards her. She closes the wooden case, clicking the brass fasteners shut with a snap, then stows it in a cabinet below the counter.

The boy nods and says, "Yeah, I'm glad he's helped me out. Some of my original ideas just wouldn't have worked." As Elinor reaches past, Tom glances over at her. Slowly, he says, "Did you have a special dinner tonight? I really hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"No," Mrs. Travison answers. "What made you think that?" she inquires.

"The silverware. It was really heavy. Mom only uses stuff like that on special occasions, like Thanksgiving," Tom replies.

"Oh!" Mrs. Travison says. "Of course! It is very pretty, isn't it? Elinor brought it for us all the way from Ruritania! Wasn't that generous of her?"

"Beautiful things are meant to be used," Elinor says, her voice soft. "What is the good of keeping them always locked in a box where no one can see them?" She smiles at the older woman. "Though I fear that is what the Travisons would do if they were not too kind to offend me," she asides to Tom.

Tom nods and looks over at Elinor again. "It is very pretty. I don't think I've ever seen any quite like it before," Tom says, watching Elinor's reaction. "Mom only uses things like that on special days. I agree with Elinor. Seems sorta silly to have things that you really don't use, but that's my mom."

Tom grins. "So, now I also know one reason that trunk was so heavy. If you carried things like that with you, no wonder," Tom says.

Elinor looks pleased by the boy's agreement with her. "It is a little unusual, the design, even where I come from." Her skin flushes at the added comment. "I am sorry I brought so many things ... but it was a long journey and I knew I would be staying many weeks. And I wanted to bring something to thank my hosts."

Tom waves a hand and says, "I was happy to help move it. You were new, and looked lost. I've seen enough of how new people in town tend to get treated, so I make an effort to make them feel welcome. Nothing to apologize for. Anything else like that you brought from your home? I wouldn't mind seeing things like that from another country."

"Oh, she brought some very nice things," Mrs. Travison beams.

Elinor smoothes back her hair nervously, glancing to the older woman. "Some things, yes. I could show you them when I see you tomorrow, if you like?"

Tom nods. "That would be great! I like seeing things from far-away places. Makes you feel like you've gotten a glimpse of a whole other world." He looks around again and says, "I should probably get going home soon. I've taken up enough of your time." He turns to Mrs. Travison and says, "Thanks for letting me stop by. I hope all of you have a wonderful evening."

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