Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 05

"I don't claim to be an expert on the political maneuvering of House Orwin, let alone Farrier," his aunt said. "The father's family is entitled to one month of custody each year." The look on her face was so sad that Frank wished he could cheer her up, but he had no idea how to. "I doubt that's all they were after, but someone ought to tell you."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Frank said.

Except it sorta did.

If it was possible to put all the political bullshit aside, to continue to see his dad and his cousins as family, then Frank had no doubt that he would enjoy the visit. It had been too long since he'd seen Jack and Mark. Adam and Dylan too, for that matter, though he'd never been as close to the younger two. Could they set things aside, though?

The prospect of spending an entire month away from his mother didn't exactly appeal to Frank either. Sure, if they'd stayed in the simulation, he'd headed off to school again soon. That was different, though; for all sorts of reasons.

"Here we are!" Liz declared with obvious relief. "Welcome to Harveston."

"No `w' in there?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"I can't say that I approve, but that's how the locals pronounce it." She swept a hand out at the bustling streets and corner shops. "What do you think?"

Between the uneven cobblestones, hanging sign posts, and numerous horses, Frank almost thought he was in a fantasy RPG. The sports cars parked beneath street lights suggested otherwise, though. The apple-shaped bulbs in the latter weren't exactly familiar, but the technology was modern. Not that he really thought they were powered by electricity.

Most of the town's denizens reminded Frank of the college students whose tuition dollars had made his stipend possible. A few wore the sort of thing that was featured in catalogs thirteen-year-old boys stole from mail piles, which was startling but modern enough. Others, however, seemed to have embraced a new aesthetic, wearing overalls and dresses of beige and brown with plaid shirts and blouses that had a little more color.

Frank almost took them for scarecrow servants. They were definitely immortals, though; their faces and physiques made that clear. There had to be twenty people in his line of sight, and not a one was overweight, elderly, or likely to be rated less than a seven by the harshest of critics. None quite compared to any of the Orwins, in his unbiased opinion, but one rarely found so much sex appeal in one place when living amongst mortals.

There were plenty scarecrows milling about as well, Frank noted. They carried bags full of books and clothes for the immortals, washed windows, and swept sidewalks.

"I thought you said there's no money," was all Frank could think to say.

"There's not," his aunt replied with a roll of her eyes. "Is it so hard for you to imagine things working any other way?" She thanked their driver, hopped down off the wagon, and waited for Frank to follow. Once he had, she took him by the hand and led him towards an establishment that appeared to be equal parts bookstore, coffee shop, and outdoor mini theater. "There's not much here we can't conjure up with a snap of our fingers, but that's not the point. Sometimes it's just nice to go into town and pick up something you didn't even know you wanted, talk to people who don't share your DNA, or take in a show."

"That makes sense," Frank said as a scarecrow took to the podium. A screen rose up from the stage and a title slide appeared without any projector or computer needing to be involved. "Is he about to give a lecture?" On modern poetry, apparently.

Liz leaned back and glanced at the stage. "He is," she confirmed before walking inside. "I'm going to have a pumpkin spice latte and you'd better not say a word about that."

A deep yet soothing voice came out of the burlap sack. It greeted the tiny audience then began recapping the previous lecture, as any good professor would.

"Frank?"

"Just a coffee for me. Milk and sugar."

His aunt looked back at him. "You're really having trouble with that, huh?"

"A bit," he replied, before joining her in line. So much for the scarecrows not being able to talk. Or maybe that was only true of the baseline model? That was hardly the most irregular thing he'd seen since getting out of bed that morning, yet for some reason it was harder to wrap his head around. How could a freaking scarecrow do the job he'd worked so hard to prepare for? It was a good thing that no longer mattered.

The barristas were also scarecrows. If not for that, and a few other details, Frank could have believed he was at the quirky coffee shop in downtown Rochester.

The lighting was dark, the drink menu was written on a chalk board, and vintage art hung on the walls. Hipsters with guitars they probably didn't know how to play sat across from girls with pink hair who only pretended to be writing in their moleskin notebooks. Guys wearing glasses, even though no immortal had need of corrective lenses, crouched over laptops. Nothing could have been more familiar. Frank had never been to a cafe that set plates of baked goods out for all to enjoy, though. Wooden trays atop stone pedestals offered pumpkin cupcakes and apple cider donuts, soft fudge and hard biscotti. There were bowls of fresh fruit too, though their kind had no need for health consciousness. The only seating available was atop bean bag chairs shaped liked giant pumpkins or at picnic tables of rough-hewn wood. Stone fire pits were set into the floor, though only one was roaring.

"Here you go," his aunt said, handing him a ceramic mug with a leaf painted on it.

"Thanks," he said, repaying her with a peck on the cheek.

Did she actually blush? Perhaps a little. It was hard to tell, as she immediately set about finding them a table that was both near the fire and had sight of the stage outside.

"Do they offer semester-length courses?" he asked, tilting his head to see the screen.

Liz smiled into her mug. "Not for credit."

"Obviously," Frank said. "I get it, it's all for self-edification; I'm just wondering if you can really learn stuff here. Like, more than you'd get from twenty minutes on Wikipedia."

"Wikipedia," his aunt muttered to herself. "Why don't you pick a series we both might like and we can try it out?" she added, handing him a laminated menu. "If you don't feel like you learned anything after the first lecture, we don't have to come back for the second."

Rather than drink specials or sandwiches, the menu listed lecture series. Unsurprisingly, most of them were pretty fluffy. At least in the eyes of an economist. Literature, philosophy, music, art, fashion, and human sexuality; nothing that might involve any numbers.

Well, other than a six next to a nine.

It did say at the bottom, however, that other topics were available upon request, provided that there was sufficient interest and no scheduling conflicts. That was promising.

"Don't even go there," his aunt warned.

"What?"

"Introduction to macroeconomics?" Liz guessed. "Or are you more of a micro guy?" She frowned at herself. "I feel like I should know the answer to that."

Snorting, Frank said, "Why? My mom doesn't." He took a sip of his coffee. It was astoundingly good; rich and full-bodied, yet not overpowering or bitter. There were hints of spice, earthy undertones, and a lingering sweetness that couldn't have come from granulated sugar. Despite all of that, it was surprisingly smooth and consistent. The best coffee he'd ever had up until that moment was no longer distinguishable from burnt gas station swill. "I'm just happy she's stopped telling people her son goes to RIT," he added.

"It's U of R that's known for economics, right?" Liz said.

With a bemused grin, Frank replied, "Someone's done her homework."

"Brie might have made me," his aunt muttered as she raised her latte to her lips. She had delicate fingers, Frank noted, with glossy white polish on her nails. "I'll tell you what; if you sit through the series on Shakespeare with me, as well as a performance of the play of your choice afterwards, I'll commit to the first two lectures of an econ series."

"Two lectures?" Frank laughed. "For a full course and a play?"

She held up a finger that must have silenced countless ninth-graders over the years, even though she must have been one of the nice teachers that students liked rather than the strict sort they feared. "There's no math in Shakespeare. Nary a confusing graph or Greek letter."

"Perhaps, but Old English ain't really English."

"It so very is, though," Liz replied with a grin that Frank suspected was born more of disbelief than amusement. "Besides, I know you'll come around on The Bard."

"Whereas you're not so sure about supply and demand curves?"

No response came. Unless you counted a kick under the table.

She was lucky they were in public, or he'd have kissed her so hard. Or so tender. Whatever she wanted. Either way, he'd have brought her to the brink of orgasm.

"So make it interesting for me," his aunt said suddenly, summoning one of the pastry platters as she did. "What excites you in the world of economics?"

That took some pondering, though not because there was a dearth of answers; Frank just knew that he'd never get a better opportunity to sell her on his intellectual passions. It was important to word things just right. Frank exhaled mightily and scratched at his beard, then nibbled a turnover and washed it down with some coffee.

"Is it all that money you'll make after you graduate?"

"That's a common misconception," he said. "One no more needs to covet wealth in order to study the distribution thereof than doctors should be assumed to want people to get sick."

"That's different," his aunt said.

"Of course it is. No analogy is perfect," Frank said. "An English teacher should know that." Okay, maybe that was a little obnoxious. Her pout was kinda cute, though. "Back when I thought there was a future for me in that world, I wanted to stay in academia. The pay's not terrible, but it's not great either. If all I cared about was money, I'd get an MBA and be done with it." That got a begrudging nod from his aunt. "I see a world of abundance, with a finite yet staggering supply of resources, and wonder why there's still poverty and hunger, homelessness and unemployment. For me, that starts with understanding how, when, and why frictions of various sorts prevent mutually beneficial transactions from occurring."

Liz scrunched up her face. "Without the jargon?"

"Right. Bad Frank," he said, slapping himself on the wrist and earning a wan smile. "When you have millions of people looking for jobs, and employers complaining about a lack of applicants, something's not right. Maybe there aren't a lot of perfect fits in there, but holding out for something better is costing everyone an awful lot."

"Sometimes it's better to be single than stuck in a terrible relationship."

"Exactly!" Frank said. "That's a great analogy. And for that reason, a lot of people have applied the theories I'm interested in to romantic relationships as well as labor markets." He took another bite of his turnover, which was amazing as the coffee.

"Where I'm sure they fit just as well," his aunt said.

Ignoring her sarcasm, Frank rolled right along. "As true as it is that the worst relationship you could be in wouldn't make as you happy as being single, the best relationship you could be in definitely would. I think that's true for pretty much everyone alive. So why can't we all find someone?" He shook his head. "I don't mean for that to sound so plaintive, like I'm shaking my fist at the heavens. I think there are specific mechanisms at work and that it's important to understand them so that maybe someday we can help people get to a better place. Maybe not everyone, but some of them." He took another sip of his coffee. He wasn't sure if he'd sold his aunt on economics, but she'd definitely sold him on Talking Leaves. "That's what excites me; alleviating suffering that, by all indications, is unnecessary."

Beneath the picnic table, Liz's foot was misbehaving again, but in a very different way. Amber light was streaming across the table and the whitest teeth he'd ever seen were bared by a beautiful smile. "I had no idea Mister Dollars and Cents was such a romantic."

"I don't know about that," Frank said with a nervous chuckle. "When I say that we should all be able to find someone, I don't mean a soul mate that we're destined to be with in some mystical sense. I just mean that in experiments, when you randomly assign people numbers and tell them that you'll pay them an amount of money equal to the one held by the person they partner up with, it's rare for anyone to go home empty-handed. Everyone wants to be with the tens, by design, but the fives eventually settle for one another."

"Hmm."

There was a part of Frank that saw things that way. Yet he hadn't entirely given up on kismet. How could he scoff at mystical beliefs when magic was part of his everyday life?

When his mother was?

"I realize it's a gross oversimplification to assign everyone a hard number that all potential mates can be expected to agree upon. Tastes vary, personality clashes are a thing, and what looks like two fives `settling' for each other can be two oddballs finding the only person who could ever make them happy, whom they'd prefer to any supposed `ten' out there."

"But?" his aunt said, raising an eyebrow.

"That was it," Frank lied. He wasn't even sure what he'd meant to follow that up with. When people questioned the value of research he'd nearly dedicated the rest of his life to, he got a bit defensive, but it was pretty obvious that his aunt cared far more about what he thought made for a good relationship than what his dissertation would have been about.

He reached across the table and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. He'd almost taken her hand in his but had thought better of it at the last second. "If you're trying to get me to say that I've wasted the past year studying theories that have no merit, I'm going to dig my heels in, and not just because that would be depressing." At least he didn't think that'd be the reason. "If you're asking whether I think we're a couple of fives settling for each—"

"That's a little presumptuous," his aunt said, pulling her hand back towards her body.

"I didn't mean that," Frank said. "Words hard. Math good."

His aunt sighed then patted the back of his hand. "I'm sorry too. I overreacted." She hesitated a bit then added, "The thought may have cross my mind."

"Looks like that Shakespeare course meets again on Thursday," Frank said, staring down at the menu. Any way for us to catch up on what we've missed?"

"Indeed there is," she said with a smile. "We can start after this lecture."

That wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

On the other hand, if his mom was going to spend the rest of the day with his brother, as seemed likely, Frank might as well make the best of his time with Liz. He could always make a quick trip to the bathroom, cast a quick scrying spell, and see what his mother was up to. If she remained indisposed, he could carry on with his aunt. If not, he could drop a few hints about being eager to see the manor. She needn't take that personally. And probably wouldn't, if he sat through a lecture first. "Sounds good," said Frank.

"Does it?" Liz asked. The grin spreading across her face brought one to his lips as well.

Perhaps he didn't even need to check in on his mom.

#

"Can you believe that no one else is up?" Liz said as she took a small from a glass of wine that Frank knew she wouldn't finish. Though they'd spent more than an hour at the restaurant, she hadn't needed a refill. "It's not even nine o'clock."

Frank leaned against a granite counter top and raised a dram of whisky to his lips. The master kitchen put everything on HGTV to shame, but Frank only had eyes for his aunt.

It was strange how much that face reminded him of his mother's when the two were had such different personalities. Though he hadn't been as nervous with her as he had been on every other first date in his life, there'd been a few awkward moments. Those hadn't cost him, though. If anything, they'd endeared him to his aunt, who'd been more than a little nervous herself. His mother might not have subtracted points from the running tally that determined whether she'd have sex with him that night or not, the way other women would, but that was only because their relationship was a bit different; she wasn't going to pull a fade away on her son, after all. Frank would certainly have felt the shift in her Libido and quite possibly have gotten another lecture on the importance of being confident, delivered in the sort of motherly tone that was meant to be helpful and reassuring but was more emasculating than anything. The one time they'd decided to pretend they were an ordinary couple, their waitress had asked whether they were on a date or if his mother was a friend who was coaching him before he went on a real one for the first time. Nothing like that had happened with his aunt, though, and not just because they'd been waited on by a scarecrow.

Frank would never have to act like the guys he'd hated in high school in order to impress his aunt. She'd been too busy listening to what the teacher was actually saying, and too decent a person, to pine after the assholes who'd bullied guys like him.

"I had a good time tonight," Frank said at last.

His aunt stared down at her feet. Spots of color appeared in her alabaster cheeks. "I feel bad that we went dancing after I'd already forced you to sit through so much Shakespeare."

"You didn't force me to do anything," he assured his aunt. That would have been the right to say even if he had felt a little coerced. He hadn't, though.

If anyone had forced his hand, it was his mother. Though he felt a bit guilty about it now, he had snuck in a quick scrying spell, confirming that she was too preoccupied for a trip back to the manor to make any sense. Not with Dom, as it happened, but that made no difference. Whether she was with her father or her favorite son, she'd not pay as much attention to Frank as he needed her to. Assuming he got any from her at all.

Liz fretted at her lower lip. That didn't seem like an affection in her case, the way it sometimes did her daughter's. Everything Brie did seemed like an act of seduction, and most of it was deliberate by her own admission; her mother had no idea how beautiful she was, though, or how much it added to her appeal when she allowed her vulnerability to show. "It seemed like you might even have enjoyed the lectures," she ventured.

With a half shrug, Frank said, "Maybe a little." Three in a row was a bit much, but he could see how listening to one per week might not only be tolerable but actually interesting.

The light from the overhead lamp made his aunt's hair shine like polished metal. He wanted to run his fingers through it, delighting at the silken feel. Or push her up against the fridge and press his lips to hers. More than anything, Frank wanted to pull that butter cream dress off her and make love to every inch of her body. He was not only more curious about the wonders it obscured than he had been before he'd seen what she could do with those hips and shapely legs but was convinced that she'd appreciate her seduction routine more than his mother did, even if he executed it at the slowest setting.

He wanted so many things, but he could be patient. He had to be patient.The very fact that Liz was forcing them to go slow was part of why he was smitten.

"As for the dancing, it probably helped that I'm as clumsy as you are."

"You give me too much credit and yourself too little," Frank replied. His missteps were not the only ones that had drawn snickers from the other couples, but he was definitely guiltier of that than she was. He couldn't let his aunt think that he saw them as equally graceless, even if her errors had eased his anxiety. "Your mother's probably gonna want to sit us down and say a few words about protecting the family's reputation, huh?"