Ashes to Asher

Emil could hardly believe his luck as he drove his new to him old Bronco along the street, following Ashley in the rental car. He knew most people would have no trouble calling the vehicle an antique, but it didn't feel that way to him. When they got to the office, there was no trouble returning the car. In fact, they had all expected Emil to use more mileage, himself included, so he actually got a bit of a refund.

"You got money back," Ashley told him. "That should help since you just bought an old clunker."

"Lilac may be mature, but she is NOT a clunker, thank you very much," Emil scolded and patted the armrest between the seats lovingly. His and Ashley's comments got the rental office staff interested, so Emil had to show off his new mechanical baby, not that he objected, of course. He did turn down three offers to buy it from him, though.

After settling up with the car company, Emil and Ashley went to a quaint, cozy, little privately owned and operated coffee shop and used book store. They both wanted to avoid the bland flavor and high price of a chain store, and neither of them could resist the lure of the books. While they both enjoyed their exceptionally good drinks, they also played a short game of chess, which Emil lost rather quickly. They each found a book or two to purchase as well before they left.

Once outside, they saw a church run thrift store nearby in the same little shopping plaza. Neither of them was sure about supporting any organized religion, but something about the place was pulling at both of them. They agreed as they walked over to the shop that just looking around wouldn't hurt anything, and might prove to be fun. They entered the designated door and were immediately greeted by a very sweet lady who looked to be about Asher's age.

"Hello there, sweeties," she called out. When she saw Emil's all purple outfit, she squealed and practically ran out from behind the sales counter. "Young man, I know this is going to sound very strange, but could I take a picture of you? My sweet little grandson just adores purple, and lately he's been afraid to wear it because of other kids teasing him about it. I would really like to show him that it is perfectly all right to proudly be who he is and wear what he wants."

"Well, I certainly agree with that sentiment for an adult, but children reach a certain age and it becomes social death to be seen in something viewed as not cool," Emil responded a bit sadly. "I know I haven't always been as free to wear all the variants of this color as I am now, and some people still question it."

"I didn't question it… Okay, I did, but I was just curious about your reason, not that I disapprove," Ashley defended herself. "I also know some… guys… object if the person they are with clashes with their color scheme."

"I'm not that bad," Emil told her, rolling his eyes. He turned back to the clerk and asked, "How old is your grandson?"

"He's twelve, and you are right, he was bullied at school, but he's homeschooled now because the school didn't…. Well, let's just say we had a difference of opinion with the school officials on what constitutes a safe educational environment. Those idiots just couldn't appreciate my darling's flair quite the way one would hope for a place of learning."

"Well, you tell him that it will get better someday, I promise," Emil smiled and struck a friendly pose for the woman.

"Wait," Ashley interrupted. "If you really want to encourage another purple people, take the picture by your new wheels. I mean there is having a favorite color, and then there is you."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment," Emil said suspiciously. "You are right, though." He smiled at the older lady and added, "I just purchased a vintage Ford Bronco that has been customized inside and out, including a lavender paint job."

"OOO, I would want to see that even if I weren't taking your picture with it," the woman grinned. "Let me call someone else up to watch the cash register for a moment."

A couple of minutes later, another woman walked up, younger than the first, but older than Emil and Ashley. "Do you need a break, Vera? I just brewed a pot of that herbal peach tea we both like." Her mouth fell open as she saw Emil. "I declare Vera, it's as if your kitten boy was all grown up."

"Kitten boy?" Ashley questioned.

"I call her grandson, Zane, that because he purrs like a little kitten any time that he's happy, or at least he used to when he was happy more often."

"Do all of you purple people do that?" Ashley asked Emil, causing him to blush a bit and splutter. "You do it, Danny does it, her grandson does it…."

"Maybe it's just the gay ones that purr," Vera thought out loud, and then immediately apologized to Ashley. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to assume that your son… It's just that my Zane hasn't told me yet, but I know, and well, it's sort of obvious for this one," she said, waving her hand at Emil.

"Hey, I thought I was butch," Emil pouted. "I even drive an old Bronco."

"It doesn't count if you bought the car because it matches your outfit," Ashley told him, rolling her eyes. She turned to the other two women and imitated him with a big melodramatic sigh. "Lookie Ashley, it matches my shirt."

"I did not say lookie, I just said look," Emil pouted. "And I do not sound like that."

"Yes, you do," all three women told him, causing him to pout even more.

"You didn't offend me," Ashley assured Vera. "Danny has already told me that he has no use for any girls other than me. We had that discussion after I caught him using the library computer to read Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy slash fiction."

"Slash? Someone writes bloody gory stories about Harry Potter?" Granny Vera gasped.

"No, no," Emil corrected. "Well, someone out there might, but slash fiction refers to stories where a certain pair of characters are represented as a romantic couple."

"Oh, well that's more like it then," the old lady said firmly. "Anyone with half a brain should know that Harry and Draco are much better suited as a couple than he and that Weasley tart. Plus, she's practically a clone of his mother. " She looked around at the other three adults and shrugged. "Zane had an obsessive Harry Potter phase when he was a bit younger, and I read a lot of them to him at bedtime. I still like the stories, even if the cow that wrote them needs some serious mental help."

"Vera!" the other woman squeaked.

"What? I'm the oldest person in the room, so I don't have to mind my manners unless I want to," Vera snorted. "Let's go take that picture, Princess Lavender." She grabbed Emil by the wrist and pulled him out the parking lot. On his way out the door, Emil mouthed help me to the other two women, who unhelpfully just shrugged and shooed him into the parking lot.

Once the picture was taken, and Vera had reminisced about a high school date with a boy who drove a Bronco, Ashley and Emil finally got to look around in the shop. Ashley was browsing the dishware, looking at novelty coffee mugs when she heard a squeal from Emil, most noticeable since he was in a completely different room of the strip mall shop. She put the mug down, hoping it would still be there when she went back in hopefully just a few minutes.

"Ashley, look," he gasped when she reached his side. He held his hand out gesturing to some old furniture. "It's Art Deco furniture." She smacked his arm. "Ow, what was that for, psycho woman?"

"Me a psycho? You just scared five years off my life over some old furniture."

"This is not JUST old furniture," Emil gasped in defense. "This is art deco. Furniture had class and style back then."

"The mirror on that… What is that? It's not a dresser," Ashley stammered.

"Technically it's a makeup vanity," Emil explained. "Having a mirror that big and at that level would be perfect for checking my outfit before going out."

"Well, I'll give you that point, I guess, but it still looks like a giant porthole to me," Ashley snorted. "Oh, I get it now. The shiny metal band outlining the mirror is repeated in the headboard of the bed, which is also arched like the round mirror, but that is a rather large bed."

"Oh, are you interested in Inez's furniture?" Vera asked. "It's been here so long. She was such a dear to donate everything to the church, but I am starting to think we aren't ever going to move the stuff."

"Then clearly your usual clientele has no taste for antiques," Emil said, clearly offended, and rubbed his hand over the large bed frame.

"How big is that bed?" Ashley asked.

"It's a queen," Vera answered simply, and Ashley started snickering.

"Not one word from you, you wicked heathen," Emil threatened before Ashley could comment, probably rudely. "I'm starting to think I should avoid your entire family. It's too late for Jimmy, poor soul, but I might still have a chance of escaping you three Danvers demons."

"Not going to happen, purple man," Ashley responded. "My Uncle Asher has his eyes, and his heart, set on you, so Danny, Jimmy, and I are all going to do our level best to make sure he gets you, even if we all need brain bleach for the mental images."

"Ashley Danielle Danvers, we are in a public place," Emil scolded. "Mind your manners if you can find them."

"Sorry, Auntie Em," the woman giggled unrepentantly.

"Never trust quiet spinster librarians," Emil groaned. "Forget the still waters that run deep, you run sick and twisted. Do you kiss your innocent son with that mouth?"

"I hate to break in here, but she can't exactly be a spinster librarian if she has a son," Vera spoke up. Emil was so shocked he stumbled and had to grab the tall dresser to keep from falling down. "I was a quiet librarian for forty years, and I still had three kids and four grandchildren," the old woman added as she high-fived Ashley.

Emil grinned once he had recovered and came over to hug Vera and give her a kiss on the cheek. "You are a true gem, milady, and that grandson of yours is a very lucky boy to have you. I do really, really, love this furniture, but I have nowhere to use it. I am currently living in a hotel because my life is kind of reinventing itself at the moment. I just came to this area to scatter the ashes of a very dear friend who recently passed."

"I'm very sorry to hear of your loss," Vera told him and hugged him this time. "You could always store the furniture until you decide what you're going to do and where. You really love the style and appreciate it the way Inez did. She would be tickled purple to know that her furniture was going to someone who loved it as much as she did."

"Don't you mean tickled pink?" Ashley questioned.

"Shut up, dear, I'm trying to make a sale," Vera whispered, but in a loud enough voice that they all knew Emil heard her as well. "Besides, I'm talking to him. Pink? Please." All three of them laughed at that point.

"Did I miss a memo that all females get to pick on me today? And people wonder why I'm gay," Emil pouted dramatically.

"Okay, no more teasing you," Ashley vowed. "Look, there's a cute set of twin beds over here and the wood matches the set you're looking at. You and Uncle Ash could lie to everyone and say you had perfectly PG sleepovers."

"Hush, you," Emil retorted.

"That's more of Inez's furniture," Vera supplied. "She had inherited this stuff from her parents. Her first bed was one of those twins, and her last bed was that big one. We've also got her dining table and six chairs along with the buffet sideboard right over here."

"You're killing me, Mrs. Vera," Emil whined. "I have dreamed of having my own house with furniture like this nearly my entire life. Well, ever since I started reading and watching British murder mysteries set in the twenties when I was in junior high. My librarian was the only friend I had when the other kids started noticing how different I was." Vera and Ashley both hugged him tightly at that point.

"You're really serious about liking this furniture," Ashley mused as she stepped away from him. "I feel bad now because I'm sure it's super expensive being genuine antiques."

"The price isn't really the issue," Emil told her. "Your uncle really didn't say anything to you?" he asked. When she shook her head, he added, "Robert left everything to me, his entire estate. I just don't have anywhere to put the furniture. These pieces belong in a house that complements them and showcases them properly for the best effect. Where would I even find an authentic Art Deco house that's not in Europe in this day and age? All I've seen in town so far have been cookie cutter suburbs or quaint farmhouse bungalows."

Ashley got a smile on her face, that a few days ago would have frightened Emil, but now he recognized it as her being up to something that would most likely turn out to be fun. "Buy the furniture, Em. You've just given me the proof that you and Uncle Ash belong together, as well as shown me how you're going to get together. Trust me on this. You pay for this stuff and I will be right back."

She practically ran through the shop back to the dishware. She met Vera and Emil at the cashier station by the door to the parking lot. When he turned to look at what she was holding, she was hiding it behind her back. "I didn't know I needed a new best friend, but I couldn't ask for a better one," she grinned as she presented the coffee mug to Emil. It was royal purple and had white lettering that read 'When in doubt, pick the purple one'.

Emil turned his head to wipe away a few tears that were leaking down his face, and noticed a beautifully framed portrait photo on the counter, with a small candle in front of it, almost like a shrine. "Who is that?" he asked Vera.

"Oh, that was Dave and Barb," the older woman replied. "They were great friends to me, to this shop, and to the church."

"They're gone now, but they will never be forgotten," the other clerk added. "We all call them Saints D and B. Not a one of us that work this shop would be here today if it weren't for them keeping us encouraged and motivated and thinking positive. Dave in particular once talked me out of a really dark place. He helped me see that I had a lot more going for me than I thought at the time, and thanks to him, I found the church, and, as they say, the rest is history. They were angels long before they became real ones."

Arrangements were made to have the furniture stored at a facility nearby, and soon enough, Emil and Ashley were on their way back up the mountain. His purchases of the day kept Emil's mind off the scary, twisting, narrow mountain road. When they got back to town, Ashley drove past the diner and the hotel, still grinning. "I know we're cutting it close to get back to the diner for dinner, but you have to see this," she told Emil with a giggle. She stopped the car on a short cul-de-sac just a bit past the hotel, and pointed out the window beside Emil.

He turned and saw first the for-sale sign. "Smooth, woman, you just happen to know of a…." His voice grew silent as he finally looked beyond the sign and saw the house itself. He practically melted into a puddle, stammering incoherently as he stared at a beautiful, nearly text book example of Art Deco architecture.

The house had pristine white walls of what appeared to be stucco or cement. There was a rounded wall of glass blocks immediately to the right of the front door. The curve of the translucent bricks is repeated in the shape of the stoop roof over the door. A little to the left of the covered entry is a small porthole window. At each of the front corners of the house were horizontal strip windows that continued around to the side walls. On the level above, a matching but much larger corner window and door could be seen. The roof deck was surrounded by a railing that would look perfectly at home on a ship from the same era as the house, the 1920's. All of the window frames and the front door, along with the roof deck railing were a high gloss black finish. The lawn needed some care, but Emil was sure he could handle that, especially if he got, or rather paid, Danny to help.

"It's like someone built it right out of my dreams," Emil whispered.

"Uncle Ash has always loved the house, too," Ashley said teasingly. "He didn't like the old man that lived here when he was a kid at all, but he has always loved the house."

"Speaking of your uncle, if you don't drive me to the diner right now, your boyfriend will actually have a reason to arrest me," Emil told her. "I will be guilty of breaking and entering if we stay here any longer."

"He's not my boyfriend," Ashley corrected quickly with a blush. "Danny is the twelve-year-old, not me. At my age, one does not have a boyfriend. We don't want you in jail, though."

Emil called the number on the for-sale sign as Ashley drove back to the diner. When they got there, both Emil and Ashley blurted out every little detail of their day for Asher and Danny, which of course meant the other diners were listening in as well. They could all see the cute little Bronco out the many windows in the front wall of the building. Asher, and most of the other people in the diner, seemed to find the details of their day very entertaining, but Danny seemed more withdrawn the more everyone laughed. Emil noticed this and called the boy over to the table where he was sitting.

"I know it doesn't feel very nice that your mom and I went and had all the fun today while you were stuck here in town, but I want you to know two things, okay?" he told the boy. "First is how much she and I appreciate that you were here for your Uncle Ash today so that we could go do the stuff we did. We didn't plan most of what happened. We were only supposed to go turn the rental car in. The second thing is that I want to ask you to help me tomorrow. I made an appointment to look at a house and I need someone to look the place over with me. Your mom will be back at work at the library, and Asher, of course, will be here, so I need someone I trust and feel comfortable with to check out the new place."

"You really want me to help you buy a whole house?" Danny asked in a shocked whisper.

"I think you are the perfect person to help me," Emil assured him. "Even if Ashley or Asher could be there, I would still want your opinion on the place before I made the decision. Will you help me out?"

"I'll be there," the boy promised proudly. "Wait, where is the new house?"

"It's just up the street a bit from here," Emil told him. "A quiet little street called Whitehaven. The house is number 56, which seems silly to me since there's only two other houses on the street, and it's at the very end."

From the kitchen, Asher could be heard dropping something that made a lot of noise. "You want to buy Old Man Heiney's house?" he gasped.

"What did you just call the place?" Emil laughed.

"Me and Rob always called him Old Man Heiney," Asher started explaining. "His name was actually Mr. Heinrichsen, and he was the meanest, grumpiest old coot this town ever knew."

"Mom, does Grandpa have to put money in the swear jar for saying heiney and calling someone a coot?" Danny called out.

"No," Asher yelled back just as Ashley replied positively. "Moony, back me up here," the older man begged.

"I refuse to call my high school math teacher a coot, even if he was one," the old woman responded.

"I thought that mean, old man would outlive us all," Barney added. "Then when he finally did go, he left the house to his nephew who was just as grouchy."

"You can't move there, Auntie Em," Danny yelped. "What if there's a curse and you turn into a grumpy old man, or maybe it's haunted by one of those mean old guys."

"Well, I don't know about curses or ghosts, but there must be some reason no one has stayed more than a year since Old Heinrichsen died," Barney added.

"I'll sage the place for you before you move in," Moony assured Emil. "It will be fine after that."

"Just make sure you smoke the right plant in there, Miss Moony. I'm not sure this town is ready for Emil on that other smoke of yours," Jimmy called out.

"What other smoke?" Danny asked.

"Never you mind what other smoke," Ashley growled. "You're too young for it, anyway."

"I'm always too young," the boy whined. "I'm almost thirteen."

"Yeah, well, I'm too young for you to be old enough for that other smoke, so you just forget about it and hush," Asher groaned as if in pain. "I don't want my best little buddy growing up so fast."

"Aww, I love you, too, Grandpa," Danny cooed. "Does this mean I can have eight bedtime stories every night like I used to get?"

"Okay, fine, you can grow up a little bit, but I still better not catch you puffing any kind of smoke until you're at least eighteen," Asher conceded.