How easy it was to just... take his arm, she thought as she placed her hand on his forearm. "This way," she indicated and led him toward the grouping of homes where her abode was. "Well, how long have ye been here? I don't think I remember seein' ya around before my confinement." But, she thought, she hadn't really been looking. Was it bad that she didn't feel ashamed of walking with him? She looked straight ahead for a short time as if avoiding eye contact. It wasn't that she was shy so much as... well... apprehensive? Yes, that was the word her mind was looking for. "I've only been here for a few months. I haven't decided yet if I wanted to settle, though I may yet."

She was also a talkative one when she got started. Her eyes lifted and she realized almost miserably that there was a spark of attraction despite her trying to ignore human nature.

Frederic glanced at Miss Calloway just as her eyes lifted to meet his and he felt a stirring in his chest, something he hadn't felt in a long time, despite how his son Clover often tried to make it happen through his well-meaning but misguided matchmaking. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a young, familiar voice cried, "Pa!" and Frederic felt a small being leap onto his leg, holding on like a monkey.

"Pa!" Clover leaped from the stack of hay he'd been playing in with a few other children whose parents were shopping in the marketplace and dashed over to his father, throwing his arms around his leg and hanging on tight. This was somewhat of a ritual between father and son, one that they'd formed over Clover's love of climbing and Frederic's tolerance for being hung on as such. As usual, Clover's father grinned down at his son and paused his walking to ruffle the little boy's reddish-brown hair. "If it isn't the little spud." "I'm a big spud now!" And so Clover jumped off his Pa's leg and took his hand instead, and thus the tradition was complete. It was only then that he noticed a pretty woman on Frederic's arm, and he gasped with excitement. Out of all the ladies he tried to get his father to fall in love with, he'd never seen someone so pretty. In fact, Clover was at a loss for words, and sort of hid behind his Pa as he stared up at her in awe.

"Miss Calloway, this is my son, Clover," said Frederic with a smile, and as Clover glanced between them, he saw what he'd wanted to see for so long- a spark of attraction. Coming out of his shell, he offered the hand that wasn't holding Frederic's out to Miss Calloway after wiping it carefully on his overalls and announced cheerfully, "You're reeaaaal pretty!"

Karen gave a smile when the boy came running, and she watched as the kid grabbed onto his father's leg. "This must be Clover," she said with a chuckle, releasing the man's arm and stepping back a mite to let the boy have a minute. She shifted her basket to the other arm. "What a handsome fellow you are," she declared honestly. She knelt then and reached into her basket. "Do ye like apples? I have a nice ripe one with yer name on it." She pulled said apple out and offered it to the boy. "Thank ye for calling me pretty."

Clover's wide grin, with his slightly-crooked bottom teeth, could be endearing to even the sternest of adults, and he offered it happily to Miss Calloway as he took the apple with a merry, "Thank you, miss!" and bit into it, the juices of the out-of-season fruit dribbling down his chin as he beamed up at her. He tugged on his father's hand and asked, after swallowing the bite of apple (Frederic had been working on teaching him not to speak with his mouth full, and he wanted to impress the pretty Miss Calloway), "Where are you going, Pa?"

Frederic grinned fondly down at his son as he offered Miss Calloway his arm again. "I am walking Miss Calloway to her home, Clover." He turned his gaze to the woman herself and asked, a little quieter as Clover loudly bit into his apple and didn't hear him, "Is it alright if he-" but just as he was about to finish asking if his son could come along, Clover was called over by a few of the other kids to keep playing and he simply trailed off the question. One of the more trusted traders in the marketplace, a woman with eight children of her own, was watching all the kids with a careful eye, and Frederic knew she wouldn't let anything happen to his son, so he let him off to play. Turning back to Miss Calloway after watching Clover go, he said instead, "Clover and I have lived here for about seven years, but we don't get out much. My work keeps me fairly busy and Clover prefers to daydream over socializing with other children, so I am glad to see him at play now."

"Ye're quite welcome," she said to the boy and grinned as juice dribbled down his chin. She looked up as Frederic started to ask a question only to have his son run off and play with the other children. "If he had chosen to stay, then yes," she said in amusement. She stood again with a little difficulty, for she wasn't quite 100% after confinement. She took his arm again and talked while they walked. "I came here lookin' for my brother after Harold died," she said quietly. "I didn't know where else ta go." It was clear then that she was still hurting deeply, which was normal of course. She hardly ever talked about it, to be completely frank. She pulled away a little then and turned to look at him, "I... No, nevermind." She turned back to walking and then pointed to a cluster of homes, to a cheerful yellow house. "There it is." She could hear the sounds of one of her babies crying and blushed hard as her bodice soon grew wet with milk. She crossed her arms over herself all of a sudden and gave a panicked look to him, "I am needed. It... was lovely to meet you. I hope to see you soon!" And she disappeared into her house.

Although Frederic was mightily curious as to what Miss Calloway had been about to say just then, he didn't want to pressure her into saying anything she didn't want to and so let the moment slide. The yellow house she pointed out after a few moments was painted a cheerful shade of the color and gave off a feeling of 'home', despite how Miss Calloway had mentioned her uncertainty of staying for much longer in Whitby. When she crossed her arms over her bosom, Frederic recognized the gesture from when Clover was a newborn and needed to be breastfed- Patsy would always hide her chest in embarrassment when she heard Clover crying, as if she need be ashamed her body was providing for her child. In the brief time she was alive after birthing Clover, Frederic had done his best to persuade her there was nothing to hide- she was a mother now, and it was nothing but natural what her body was doing. He felt a soft wish he could communicate that to Miss Calloway, but he knew it would be completely out of line and would likely be taken as quite rude.

He tipped his hat politely at her in farewell as she hurried into her abode and stood there for a moment more, watching the door shut behind her, before turning about to return to the marketplace, his shopping, and his son. As he walked, though, he found it difficult to put aside the picture of Miss Calloway's face from his mind, and although he found it abrupt and confusing, he also likened it to how he'd felt when he saw Patsy for the first time and his heart gave a shiver. Truly, if only these things were simpler...