“I’m too tired for metaphors,” she said with remorse.

“Not once in all our married years have, I ever gotten away with one. All the same, here is another: We are all plays in the lexicon of time. Lysander will copy over his parts to Duffy’s folio and some of him will be with us for years to come. Our face may change but what we stand for remains the same.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “If Duffy stands for anything it’s belligerence and stubbornness.”

“Exactly! No matter if he is tall or short, young, or old, the man inside remains the same.”

“I can’t even remember what he looked like the day we met.” Ruby remembered the snotty nose and the whiney voice, but not the haggard expression and street fighting scars.

“I don’t remember you either.”

“I looked exactly like this!”

“Did you?” Leopold grit his teeth. “The point is it’s not what we look like that matters. It’s what’s in our hearts.”

“Nice save,” Ruby seethed.

“I’d love you no matter your size or shape. If anything, I thought you would be pleased to have a younger brother to boss around again. What did Wainwright used to say about you two?”

Ruby looked back to those heady days of summer and smiled. “The student always surpasses the mentor.”

“That’s it. Duffy became everything you taught him to be and more besides.”

“He did. Everything I had to teach still was not enough. His curiosity is insatiable.”

Leopold sipped his drink and watched the hearth’s last embers begin to die. Rather than stoke it, he let it die hoping the ensuing chill would give him opportunity to move their discussion to their warm, welcoming bed. His bones still ached from the reconstruction of their home and the endless nights spent pouring over accounts and ledgers to somehow make the damages disappear into petty cash.

“I won’t do that again. I’m done with the stage.”

Leopold blinked. The shock was visible on his face even in the twilight.

“As I live and breathe, did Ruby Winchester just hang up her cape?”

Ruby pouted.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. We tried. The spark kept us warm through grief but it’s never going to be more than nostalgia. Years apart fighting our own personal wards put the troupe to the sword.”

“Not once in five centuries have you been anything besides an actor. Song and dance and platitudes are in your blood.” Though supportive, Leopold’s mind wandered to the prospect of having his wife home more often. He started to say his prayers for his liquor cabinet.

“I know. But life is too short. Especially now. We have one life left; I don’t want to spend it on the road.”