Work was slow starting and the early morning hours dragged on. Nearer noon, Declan's mother and sister came into market just as they had said. Wearing a tool-apron of assorted cobbler tools, Declan spotted them out the window making down the road. Likewise, his sister Seara had spotted him and the two waved at one another despite their early morning bickering. Fighting and teasing aside, they really loved each other dearly as was how they were brought up.

?Ah, there's Theresia and Seara. Would you like to go say hello to them?? Malcolm asked, coming up to him by the window.

?Are you sure?? Declan asked back, well aware that a number of orders needed to be completed before close today.

?I'm sure,? he said, and the boy smiled. ?Just take this out to your mother when you go. There's a good lad.? Handing a small package to his son, he rustled his hair and cupped his cheek briefly before going to the back room to continue on their work orders.

Declan drew the package in close to him and headed out the front door right away. On the side of the street, five or six people had been walking, and the one closest to him he carefully navigated around before crossing the road to go and greet his mother and sister, but only as a secondary objective. He was a young man, but a man most importantly, and he was looking for any moment to show that, so he wore a face of responsibility for them, handing his mother the package which was his first priority.

?Thank you, Declan,? his mother laughed, taking the bundle and observing her son with delight, knowing full well that he couldn't grow up fast enough; and just to annoy him, she motherly combed his hair tidier, aggravating him almost instantly.

?Mooom!? he groaned, and Seara giggled.

?What's dad doing?? Seara asked, always curious about her dear dad and more so than Declan who was with him most of the work week.

?He's starting on some of our orders. We've got a lot this week.? Declan looked back at the store with his hands on his hips, thoughtfully, as if he were a grown-up with all these real problems.

?It sounds like you two will be working very hard this afternoon. You'll need something to keep your strength up.? Theresia looked to her daughter by her side whom she entrusted the food basket filled with Malcolm and Declan's lunch. Seara handed it to her brother very tenderly, anxious to alleviate his work load and stress he was showing, even though it had only been an act he was putting on to seem more like a burdened, busy adult.

?Don't work too hard, Declan,? Seara said, handing him the basket and he accepted it begrudgingly, another show put on.

?Yeah, I won't,? he replied. ?You two be safe as well. Don't spend too much in market. That money's hard to come by.? He smirked his lips back and sighed as well, checking the traffic up the road while shielding his eyes from the sunlight. Again, Theresia resisted laughter but could not hide the enjoyment on her beautiful features.

?We'll see you at dinner. Tell your father he's loved.? Another hand came to modify Declan's mismanaged hair that was dodged after the fact and it tickled her.

?Yeah, see you,? he said.

?Bye Declan,? Seara called to him while starting back on her walk with her mother to procure the items off of a modest grocery list. Her waving hand continued long enough to remind Declan of the love his sister had for him. It penetrated his tough, hardened, and emotionless grown-up act to the core and left him there perplexed and a teenager once again. Not even thinking, he waved to his sister and mother, and for even longer than she had waved to him.

Back inside DonEvans Shoes, he caught the rare sight of his father at work all to himself in this environment. Declan had seen this often, despite it being a rarity, and each time it captured him in a new, unforgettable way. The moves he made and the steps he took were all fluid and soft. There was no excruciating labor in this job. Only time; only patience. That being said, the accumulated work that went into any finished product could be intimidating. A pair of completed shoes in all their moderately unnoticed magnificence bore hundreds of opportunities for a weaker or shoddier job that could still pass as functional, but not any out of DonEvans shop. It was unsaid and silent, and when it was not silent it was quiet that Malcolm was determined to do the very best that he could at his job every single time.

At lunch they always sat on the back steps that shared the same yard with the back's of several neighboring businesses. Their managers would come out and run some errands and do some lighter work on outdoor equipment that couldn't go inside their shops, and they'd wave and greet one another as was a comfort and a pleasantry they could look forward to every day at work.

Sitting down with Declan, Malcolm unmade the carefully tucked stripe-patterned cloth that covered their lunch. Exposing the assorted foods, he first took the length of bread and broke it, handing the unnoticeably larger half to his son. The food was good to Declan, reawakening him in a way when his taste buds came to life. But his father Malcolm reacted far stronger, exclaiming with a mouthful of their prepared lunch so that it frightened him that something terrible must have been wrong.

?Your mother has outdone herself!? he said, confusing his son for the time it took him to calm down and wonder just what was wrong with him to react so strongly to something so plain and ordinary as some bread.

Malcolm caught onto his displeasure at his little scene and silently reconciled with him to enjoy the peace and quiet for awhile. If someone had been paying attention, Declan might have been embarrassed, and it plastered a contented grin on his father's face while he ate away at his lunch.

?Don't look so hard all the time for something big to happen, son. You'll miss what's really important that's already in-front of you.? He finished chewing his block of cheese and rinsed it down with a gulp of wine from a cute leather flask that had been tucked in the corner of the basket, and with his son holding out for additional explaining, he surprisingly offered it to him.

?Don't tell your mother,? he said.

The answers he was searching for became distant thoughts now with his father's wine presented before him. He accepted it and ushered himself into self-proclaimed maturity, sharing an adult drink with his dad. After trying to drink a little too much, Malcolm pulled it from his lips while enjoying the always-photogenic view of the horizon.