Golf wasn’t a particularly strenuous game, but after 18 holes Rhett was feeling the effects of the new summer sun. He was sweaty, tired from swinging his clubs and walking miles around the course. It was time for some sort of refreshment, and although he appreciated the game, Rhett was beginning to wonder if it was truly worth the hassle during these warmer months.

Something in the back of Richard’s mind told him to keep forward, to continue watching others carry on without a single care in the world. Instead, the old man looked up at the source of that rascally voice, but he was happy for it. Why exactly, Richard wasn’t quite sure. Of course, he and Rhett’s past hadn’t had the squeakiest clean image one would think, where old rivalries held more tension in the air than a room packed with rabid wolves. However Rhett had his life to live, and so did Richard.

"You are in luck. I have vanilla." Josie smiled an ushered him to the table. Putting on an apron, she pulled the pie from the windowsill and went about cutting two slices as she listened to him. "Honestly, no not really. Most of the women at church keep their distance. I’ve noticed they’ve done that to a lot of us war widows. Exactly what we need." Josie smiled, turning to set the pie and ice cream in front of him.

"Indeed." Dickey couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he had towards religious folks and the likes. His thoughts were kept short on the matter without having to revert back to counting to ten before blowing a gasket. Sure, Josie was exempt from this, but her overly obnoxious peers have had a habit of getting under his skin, especially when it came to sex, hooch, and other things. Just live and let live, that's what he'd been living by since he could remember.

"Richard, you will go broke if you stop accepting payment for what you’ve done! I can’t let you come and paint a house without taking something in return! That’s absolutely ridiculous!" She crossed her arms and smiled. "It’s a lattice caramel apple pie. Complete with brown sugar and butter crust."

"Don't be silly. Ridiculous is my middle name." With his Newsboy hat underneath his left arm as he walked behind her, Dickey kept himself quiet, smiling at the way she playfully scolded him about the free work. Although he would have accepted the payment any other time, he didn't really want to take it. Partially, it was due to the fact that accepting such a thing didn't seem right. He would have done almost anything that was requested from a good friend.

"I like the idea of a soft white. Makes it more of a softer tone, don’t you think?" She turned to Dickey and smiled. "Why not yellow? Do you have some sort of negative predisposition, or do you not care for the color?" Looking back at the house, she sighed happily. "Yellow reminds me of the sun, sunflowers, daisies… And the fact I can’t wear the color because it would easily match my hair. Would look absolutely dreadful."

He shrugged. "I'm more of a fan of warm colors...Something that relates to Autumn and Winter. This yellow is a few shades too light." Dickey's choice of favorite colors usually ranged from dark green to black. The brighter ones never really get to him lile their other earthy counterparts.

Daisy chuckled, knowing all too well that Dickey was right. Even though she got along well enough with Rhett and long ago she’d loved her job, there was a small part of the blonde that wished she were somewhere else. Some place she felt more passionate about. Not that she didn’t care for the Stroll, in fact, she’d put so much time and effort into the dance hall that she found it nearly impossible to think about leaving. 

If anything, Daisy wasn't wrong about what she said. Although he hadn't talked to Rhett recently, he knew that Daisy would be more than just helping oil the engine that was The Stroll. Her painting muse was something that couldn't be ignored, and since she was still young and undiscovered, a lot of things could change that. But at the same time, she was still free to do what she wanted, and knew that The Stroll would probably be debunked if it wasn't for her hard work, especially through all that's happened in the past few years. 

Josephine didn’t quite know what to do with herself these days. Being home alone with no children threw a wrench into her situation. She mourned her husband as all wives did, but now was the time to move on. It’d been long enough since she wore nothing but black, and she wanted to feel bright and sunny again.

Dickey took the time out to climb down the wooden ladder, making sure he wasn't going to fall due to misplaced footing. After nearly falling three times before, he wasn't up to actually doing it this time around. "Well...Let's see..." With a grunt, he hopped off the last step, dusting his hands off on the side of his pants as he went to stand next to Josie. His slightly taller frame peered up at the house from his position on the ground, critiquing the look to the best of his ability.

The clamor heard from the front of house made Daisy smile. Although Montford had been through a rather large rough patch, it seemed like things were on the up and up, and The Stroll was getting closer and closer to making a decent profit once more. Jazz blared from the stage, the patron’s busy shuffling their feet as if it were going out of style. Atmosphere was everything, and right now, the blonde mirrored the wistful, timelessness of it, and reveled in the fact that for a change, everything seemed alright.

Dickey had missed the nights where good music and the right mood left him with the feeling of wanting to dance the night away. Too bad he was working, which prevented him from doing so in the first place. But if he were to be honest, he was glad to be working again. Happy to grind the pavement at all hours of the day fighting for the greater good.

She couldn’t quite tell if his return of her compliment was genuine or simply polite, but she smiled nonetheless. Grace took a seat on the chair across from him and nodded in response to his question. “Yes, things have been going well for me. My memory returned, I spent some time in New York, and then I came back here to resume my position at The Stroll.” Her fingers gently stirred the steaming cocoa as she let the heat fade to a more desirable temperature. “There’s been some ups and downs, but it feels like I’m on the up and up again and I couldn’t be happier.”

For a moment, he'd forgotten about her absence. With him being so busy with his usual activities, he didn't even notice Grace's departure. But why did she come back? The hotel fire had thrown almost everyone off, it seemed, and he felt bad for not doing more than what he tried to do. Even though he'd done just about enough to save who he could. It was a silly thing to do, but didn't say a word about it. He kept that thought to himself. Still, Richard's eyes couldn't have been more curious when she spoke of a gift, watching her take out that pagkage of a recored before handing it over. With little movement, Richard sat his cup of coca onto the table before reaching for her copy of the song.

I think I'm 'bout due. // Woody & Dickey

Getting rid of the Father Time look, Woody?