Chapter 12

The North side park was annoyingly crowded as the three walked the short distance across the soft grass to one of the few free picnic tables. All around them, the voices of tourist and native Ceruleans echoed in their ears as children ran about and wind blew the tops of the abundant shade giving trees far above their heads.

"This place was a real forest when I was growing up," commented Misty sadly as she set down her tray, "It's scary sometimes how things change when you leave and come back after such a long time."

Frank nodded as he sat down across from Miranda as she sat beside Misty. "Yeah, but I guess you have that problem every year," he agreed, glancing at Miranda.

"Not really," said the woman with a shrug, filling her teacup as Nezumi grabbed several fries off Frank's tray and disappeared under the table, "But then, not much changes in Lavender from year to year. Mom still wants me to spend more time at home, a few more morons think they can just walk into the tower and capture ghosts, and Aunt Laurna wonders why you left her at the alter."

Frank nearly choked on his hamburger, causing Misty to smile and try not to laugh. "Hey, I said I'd talk about that later," he replied nervously, pounding his chest to make sure he didn't choke.

"It is later," persisted Miranda with a knowing smile as she picked up her father's handleless cup and took a sip of her tea.

Frank sighed heavily and nodded. "Look, I really have no excuse," he replied, staring down at his food and linking his fingers in front of him before glancing up at Miranda apologetically, "As I said, things just got weird between us. Too routine, I suppose. I dunno, I just had this image in my mind of turning into one of those boring middle-aged men with almost no hair, and my pants pulled up to my neck. And I don't even want to think about what our kids would turn out like! Especially with all those ghosts she has. Also, Laurna's just too... Too..."

"Nice?" offered Miranda, her tone serious but compassionate.

Her uncle nodded, glancing up at her before speaking. "Yeah, I just didn't want to change her," he explained, "Here was this wonderful woman who was everything I could ever want, and then there was me, her complete opposite. Where as she has that shy, mysterious quality to her, I'm Mr. Extrovert. Where she's successful, well-liked and smart, I always react without thinking, I wasn't able to hold down a real job until I joined the Pokeforce, and half the people in Lavender thought I was crazy! Where Laurna's all sweet and innocent, I'm... Um, uh..."

"A pervert?" offered Misty with a grin, causing Frank to laugh. "That's it!" he admitted, his usual mirth returning immediately, "I guess I just couldn't stand the thought of 'corrupting' her, you know?"

"Wow," chuckled Miranda sympathetically as she reached across the table and gave her Uncle's hands a reassuring squeeze, "As much as you try to deny it, you are a gentleman."

"What?!" exclaimed Frank, sitting up straight and looking around nervously, causing his companions to laugh, "Who told you... ?!"

Beneath the picnic table, Nezumi leapt off the bench seat and grinned up at Bow as she stared expectantly up at her trainer. "Yo, pyro-puppy!" he called holding out a French fry, "Ya hungry?"

Bow glanced at the rattata and gave him an alarmed look. "Y-yes," she stammered, taking a step back, "But..."

"What?" asked Nezumi, taking a bite from the other fry, "They're good."

Bow glanced up at Frank in time to see him reach under the table with several small bits of what used to be a French fry in his hand. "There!" the growlithe explained, happily wagging her fuzzy tail, "That's the way to serve food."

"What? All cut up into reeeeeeally tiny pieces?" commented Nezumi quizzically, taking a bite of the second potato stick and chewing loudly, "Man, you're one spoiled growlithe!"

"Gee," replied Bow, chewing her food with the utmost of dignity and grace, "Next you'll be saying I shouldn't ask for help and just jump onto the couch on my own! What? Were you raised in barn?!"

"So," asked Frank as the three finished their food, "Do you think they'll be at the restaurant's opening tonight?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," responded Miranda with a shrug, "I doubt that that James guy lied about that. Kathy did have her pokemon try to kill him after all."

"I guess Rockets just play for keeps," commented Frank, glancing down as his watch chimed. "Hm, looks like Jen's going to be alright," he chuckled, switching back from the pager setting to chronometer.

"Is it a threat or a love letter?" teased Miranda, grinning slyly as her uncle looked distressed for a moment.

"With her? Both!" he laughed, dropping his hands on the table before getting to his feet, and glancing at his lunch companions, "Anyway, I'd best get down there and see how she is, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it... Bow! Let's go, girl!"

"Have fun," his niece chuckled as Bow ran out from under the table and ran around his feet excitedly, "Oh, and thanks for the help."

"Twern't nothin' ma'am," Frank replied with a wide grin in his best cowboy accent before glancing at Misty, "Nice meeting you, eh. It's good to see Miri happy."

"Just doing my job," Misty laughed, unable to keep a straight face as she tried to make it seem like a huge chore.

"Oh, and before I forget," said Frank, turning back to them with a wide grin as Bow ran around him barking at him to hurry up, "I'll be at the restaurant tonight."

"Really?" replied Miranda with sudden amused suspicion.

"Yup!" agreed Frank with a nod as he stood a little taller, "Jenny and myself received invites seein' as we're this city's most prominent officers."

"Meaning you begged, cajoled, and promised to be good until she agreed to take you as her date," corrected his niece, smiling as she saw in his eyes that she was right.

Frank laughed a bit and glanced down at the growlithe. "Come on!" he teased before waving good-bye and heading off again, "Get your fur on! Okay, see you there!"

"So," chuckled Miranda, reaching under the table and picking up Nezumi as she watched her almost Uncle tease Bow by pretending to get ready to run, "Think we should dress up for this thing? 'Ces Batards De L'autre Cote De La Rue' sounds pretty classy to me. 'Course, I may be assuming that just because the owner seems to be a bit of a snoot."

Misty looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing over her shoulder as Miranda laughed when Bow kicked in her 'agility' technique and ran off so fast she missed it, leaving Frank to laugh and call out "Fooled you!"

"I suppose," she said a bit sullenly, "But I'm afraid everything nice in my closet once belonged to one of my sisters or other. But I suppose I could undo some of the stitching in one a bit to account for your height-"

"That's not what I meant, dear," assured Miranda, reaching over and taking Misty's hand in her own, "I meant that perhaps we should go and pick out something new for us to wear. You've had enough 'hand-me-downs'. It's time you had something new."

Misty met Miranda's suddenly serious gaze with a look of both amazed disbelief and admiration. "I- I don't want to drive you into debt or anything," she stammered, feeling too polite to simply accept the offer, "I mean, you're already paying my way wherever we go as is..."

Miranda shrugged. "It's nothing," she assured with a dismissive wave of her free hand, "Besides, it's been a few months since I really made my card smoke."

Misty laughed a little as Miranda stood up and extracted herself for the picnic table. "Oh, and for the record," added the courier, "I don't think you're 'free loading' or anything. Every day you give me something money can't buy."

"Oh?"

"Your love..."

The sign above the door of the little coffee/seamstress shop on Clearwater Lane read simply, "Irene's Textile and Coffee Shop". But the little signs in the window proclaiming, "Pants hemmed before you can blink!" and "Wedding dresses while you wait!" didn't tell the whole story.

The proprietor was a friendly looking woman who looked to be in her late thirties, but her friendly blue eyes, which hid behind bifocals spoke of a wisdom at least twice that. She wore a comfortable looking dress whose colour matched her eyes almost perfectly, with a kind of sleeveless vest over it made of a courser material. The vest seemed to be something of the seamstress's version of a tool belt, having dozens of small pockets that overflowed with buttons and thread, while pins and needles of various sizes and shapes poked out of it at odd angles.

With a friendly smile and a few kind words, the woman, whose name actually turned out to be Irene, brought Misty and Miranda to of the free tables and brought them a pot of Earl Gray tea before they'd barely had time to open their mouths.

"I'm just a little busy right now," Irene explained in a motherly tone before scurrying off into the back room so quickly that neither saw her even move.

"She must hate to be bored, I guess," commented Miranda, glancing around at the little shop's collection of what appeared to be homemade art and craft projects.

"My mother was like that," agreed Misty, noting the plushy seel that rested atop a shelf lined with mostly books on sewing and several dozen cans of imported coffee grounds, "But she just liked to travel. She wasn't really all that creative."

"Just couldn't sit still?" inquired Miranda semi-rhetorically, deciding it would was probably better to use the teacups they'd been brought rather than spend an hour digging into the bottom of her backpack for her own and reached for the teapot.

Misty nodded, glancing at the thin beaded curtain that separated the back room from the main area as the powerful motor of an industrial sewing machine filled their ears with its rapid thudding sound. "Just like me, I guess," she agreed once the noise had ceased, replaced by a few muffled words as Irene spoke a few unkind words to the machine through a mouth full of needles.

"Well, I'm quite glad you got that trait," commented Miranda as Irene stepped out of the back room followed by a somewhat bewildered looking young woman clutching a flat rectangular box protectively, "It'd have to take a desk job if you hated traveling."

Misty nodded, not quite hearing as Irene printed the customer off an invoice and handed it to her, causing the woman to stammer in appreciative disbelief. "But-! But-!" she finally managed to say, "The place over on the other side of town said my wedding dress would cost me two thousand, five hundred credits, and you're only charging me two hundred and ten!"

"Well, if it wasn't for her need to travel, I'd probably still be living at home," continued Misty a little sadly as Irene chuckled heartily and accepted the woman's card. "But at least some good came of it," she added rather hastily, smiling up at Miranda's suddenly sullen expression, "I wouldn't have met you otherwise."

"Actually," corrected Miranda, thinking back, as Irene hurried over to their table, "We'd have met sooner. Although I'm not sure we'd be sitting here right now."

Misty's comment was cut short by the proprietor's sudden appearance. "So! What'll it be, ladies?" she inquired cheerily, "Just hear for a bite to eat, or do you need something hemmed? I noticed your jeans need mending, miss."

Miranda gave a bit of a startled look, surprised that the woman had noticed the holes that were forever forming at the knees of her jeans. "Um, actually we were looking into getting something to wear over to that new restaurant tonight."

Irene quickly stifled a negative comment but her disapproval was subtly evident. "I see," she said, thoughtfully rubbing her chin for a moment, "Well, I have a book over by the counter if you'd like to take a look. Just remember, that you can change the colours, and fabric to your liking. As well as mixing and matching if you don't find exactly what you're looking for."

"I take it you don't like that place too much," commented Misty as the woman lead them over to the counter and took out a huge tome. Its outer cover was made from ancient leather carved with arcane looking runes and had long ago started fraying at the edges. As it hit the counter, the book that would have Merlin's grimiore look like a paperback sent a cloud of dust into the air.

A moment later, and Irene had unlocked the impressive looking latch with a huge black skeleton key before prying open the volume to reveal hundreds of thousands of pages. Many had been taken from pattern books and fashion magazines, most of which had gone out of print years before Misty or Miranda had been born. Others though were high quality black and white photographs of people in various outfits. The fact that most of the people portrayed bore a resemblance to Irene made them infer that she's used her family to model her creations.

Irene shrugged as she flipped past a few hundred pages and turned the tome to face them. "Well, let's just say that I don't think Chef Troy is totally on the level," said the woman confidentially, "And I don't trust any restaurant that won't let me see their kitchen."

"Are you a food critic in your spare time?" inquired Miranda with a smile, meaning it in jest as Misty flipped through the tome's pages in amazement.

"Goodness, no!" laughed Irene, reaching under the counter and pulling out a plastic bottle full of water and taking a sip, "But I've done my time in my fair share of restaurants, and if they don't meet my standards, I won't eat there."

"Hey, you aren't..." began Misty, glancing up at the woman with an amazed looked, causing Irene's grin to broaden as she nodded.

"Yes, that was me," she agreed with a chuckle.

"Am I missing something?" inquired Miranda, glancing at the dress Misty was indicating.

"Irene had the most famous restaurant in Neon Town closed down for health violations several years ago," explained Misty with a touch of awe.

"That was a long time ago, miss, but never underestimate the power of a mom," added Irene, shaking her head in amusement, "So, is this the one you'd like?"

Misty glanced over at Miranda questioningly. "Can you afford it?" she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice down, but Miranda could see the excitement in her eyes.

"Easily," the woman agreed, unable to keep from smiling as Misty gripped the counter, nearly unable to contain herself at the prospect, "Oh, and I guess I'll take this one. In the dark blue if you have it."

Irene nodded as she sipped her bottled water. "Not a problem," she assured, motioning for them to follow, "Any ideas about material? I have everything from burlap to mareep wool!"

"Burlap?!" they both exclaimed at once.

"Just kidding!" laughed Irene as they entered her inner sanctum, "Now one of you just stand on the stool so I can get your measurements..."

It seemed to take no time at all for the industrious woman to acquire their dress sizes, have them both agree on fabric, and user them out of the comforting clutter of her sewing room.

"This won't take long," assured Irene, insisting that they sit on the comfortable looking sofa at the far end of the room and putting their tea on the low table before them before hurrying off again.

Before they could even get comfortable, however, the woman hurried out of the back again with a large platter and set it down on the table before them. "Don't let Chef Troy fool you with his so called 'International Cuisine'," warned Irene a touch smugly as her guests stared down in awe at the variety of pastries, cookies, and various healthier delicacies she'd put before them, "This is real international food."