Friday morning I got a call from Marc. He was more excited than usual, so I could only assume that he had either consumed too much coffee, possibly while testing a new blend, or he had finally finalised his menu changes. You know what they say happens when you assume things, you make an ass out of you and me. Or in this case, I made an ass out of myself. I was caught completely off guard when he said he was calling me to tell me we were going out this afternoon.

He told me that casual dress was best and that we would be doing some walking, so comfortable shoes were a must! With all of the shopping that Gabriel had done to replace everything I had lost, I was still spoilt for choice with what to wear, but thankfully, I still had a couple of hours to decide. The weather was cooling and if we were out after dark, the temperature would definitely drop off. I decided on some washed out dark jeans, a deep blue cowl necked sweater, and matching converse sneakers.

I had washed my hair this morning, so decided to leave it down with its natural curls. About an hour before Marc was due to get home to pick me up, I started the process of getting ready, including my usual, light, layer of makeup, though I decided on a burgundy shade of lipstick for something a little different. I had been ready for the date and sitting reading a book for about five minutes before Marc arrived. He apologised profusely for being late and said that one of the new chefs at the cafe had managed to start a fire in the kitchen right as he was getting ready to leave. I couldn't help but laugh at the timing.

Marc raced upstairs to have a quick shower and get rid of the smoke smell, before changing and coming back down to leave. He looked very handsome in his jeans and black sweater, with matching black converse. Anyone would think we were dressing to match, without being completely obvious about it and wearing the same colours.

He walked over and wrapped me up in a hug. "It should be here any minute," he said.

"What should be?" I asked, confused.

"You'll see. We're being picked up for our date. I think you will enjoy it."

As Marc finished saying that, a horse drawn carriage pulled into the drive. The carriage markings indicated it belonged to Palmetto Carriage Works. The carriage itself was white with grey writing, grey covers and grey leather seats. The horses were jet black, with white patches just above all four hooves and white patches on their chests, and they were incredibly shiny. They looked like their hair would feel silky smooth to touch. The socks and chest patches varied in size between the horses, but they were all incredibly handsome looking creatures.

"Are you serious right now?" I asked in disbelief. "We are going on a carriage ride? I have always wanted to do one!" I exclaimed.

Marc laughed at me. "If I had have known this was all it took to make sure you were happy, I would have organised it the day I met you! Honestly though, I do one of these tours a couple of times a year. I enjoy seeing the city this way. It allows me to relax and really enjoy the sights and seeing the city as the colours change with the seasons. I take a different tour each time and am always finding new things I have missed before. I thought you might enjoy coming with me this time."

I couldn't help but smile at his admission. How many men would openly admit that they enjoyed carriage rides, let alone took them on their own. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, took his hand in mine and led him outside before he had the chance to realise what was happening.

"I would love to take a carriage ride with you," I said as we went.

I laughed at the stunned look on Marc's face and he helped me into the carriage. He quickly shook himself out of his shock, before following me up into the carriage and finally greeting the driver. I was surprised to find deep red blankets neatly folded on the seats and Marc quickly unfolded one of the blankets, sat right next to me and spread the blanket carefully over our laps.

"This tour is unique. Rather than being on the usual schedule of tours, Tim is taking us to some of my favourite stops and is with us right until we come home later tonight," Marc told me, as he tucked me under his arm and I snuggled into him.

The first stop on our little tour was Colonial Lake, so named in 1881, when it was changed from Rutledge Street Pond. It was surrounded by parkland and houses. The grass was a lush, green and the water a deep blue-green. It was beautiful. I had no idea how I hadn't come here before, but I would definitely be back. I was also surprised by the level of knowledge that Tim had on the area.

We drove past several beautiful old homes, including Aiken-Rhett House, Milton Brewton House and William Rhett House. I adored these homes that were so rich with history and envied the people who go to be part of these amazing structures lives. Marc laughed at my reactions to each house, but enjoyed discussing their history with me. We drove down Rainbow Row and admired the brightly coloured homes that were there.

We continued on our circuit around the city and finally ended at the Charleston City Market. We stood outside the Great Hall section of the markets, admiring the vivid use of brownstone stucco, red sandstone, and green ironwork tied together in what I considered to be a beautiful piece of architecture. I was so enamoured by the beauty of the building that I almost didn't want to go inside. Marc's soft chuckling brought me out of my stuck state and I uttered a quiet apology, blushing, as we entered the building.

"There is no need to apologise. You are adorable. You were studying the building like it was a Van Gogh or a Monet. It was cute," he smiled. I might've protested him calling me cute, but I was still embarrassed about being caught staring like that.

We wandered through the stores in the Great Hall, admiring their wares. We got some hot chocolate and pastries at one of the small cafes to enjoy while we continued working our way through the Great Hall and out toward the Open Air Shed Markets. There was no way I could order coffee from any of these places - if it were better than Marc's and I commented on that, I would be worried I hurt his feelings. If it were worse than the coffee that Marc had me accustomed to then I really wouldn't enjoy it and probably wouldn't bother to finish it at all, which would make me feel guilty for wasting it.

In the open air shed markets we found a number of stalls that I couldn't help but stop at. Marc stopped with me at each one and was very patient when I decided I wanted to participate in soap making. There was a stall set up for a local beauty shop that specialised in making soaps, bath bombs and beauty products. They had a calendar on display on their table with a different activity each Friday. Today was assisting in making goats milk soap bars.

I had a blast learning how to make them and watching Marc trying to recreate the pretty patterns that the stall owner was putting through her soaps. We finished setting the soaps in moulds and before moving on from the stall, we purchased some bars of soap to take back with us. I got a coconut and lime scented soap for myself, Marc got a coffee scented soap, we grabbed a variety of others as well, to give the team their own choice of scents, since they didn't have some of the less traditional scents that we thought they would like, like gunpowder, or motor oil.

We collected our package of soaps and moved on through more stalls. There was one that made candles in a variety of decadent scents. An added bonus? They were one of the local companies that placed rings and necklaces inside their collection of luxury candles. I couldn't decide on which of the amazing scents I wanted, so settled for the classic french vanilla. I would have purchased one of each, but since I didn't know what was planned for the rest of the night, I didn't want to try and juggle them all.

We wandered on, Marc carrying our wares, enjoying the rest of the sights that we came across on our wanders. We encountered several street performers, who were all incredibly talented, and stopped for a coffee at a stand that Marc recommended, before we finally made our way into the third shed, the shed that was used by the artists.

It took me only seconds to recognise Gabriel's signature "I'm painting, don't judge me" hair do, where he had twisted as much of his hair up into one of Sang's clips as possible. As much as he hated when she used them, and when Luke picked up the habit, he had to admit they did come in handy when he was painting.

I wandered over to him, sneaking up behind him, which wasn't hard when he was lost in his work. "Hey stranger," I whispered in his ear as he was getting more paint on his brush.

His resulting shriek had both Marc and I in doubled over with laughter.

"I am so glad that I don't live with you two! Luke and Sang are bad enough, but if you were around, a guy would never be able to let his guard down!" He exclaimed, checking over my outfit. "You've been making good use of your new wardrobe?"

"I sure have been, but then you already knew that since you picked at least one of the outfits I've worn recently, yourself," I told him.

We continued with some short conversation, before leaving him to his work. We wandered through the rows of paintings that he had previously completed, admiring the fine work that he had completed. There were beautiful landscapes from various points within the city, both private properties and public areas. There were a couple of portraits of people's pets that had been commissioned, and one incredibly stunning portrait of Sang twirling in the sunlight.

He had the portraits on display to show the sort of work he could be commissioned for, the landscapes were for sale. Marc and I continued through his display, admiring Gabe's work, discussing some of these landscapes and the possibility of taking a trip out to some of these places, when we stumbled across an older lady admiring a scene that I knew was part of the Blackbourne Compound.

The property their team purchased years ago had come with a small cottage just over the stream running through the property, accessible by a beautiful wooden bridge crossing, painted white. They decided it would be worthwhile having somewhere they could enjoy one on one time with Sang without being interrupted, and Sang would be able to have alone time there when she needed it too.

They had redone the garden, replacing all of the original, lifeless plants with new, living versions, and tended it regularly to ensure that it would grow into a healthy garden that surrounded the little cottage. The look on the woman's face suggested she was familiar with the area.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said.

"Yes, it is," she said with a rueful sigh. "It really is."

"Do you know the area?" I asked her.

She turned to face me, unshed tears in her eyes. "My husband and I lived in that cottage when we got married. He passed away a few years later and his family, who owned the property, refused to let me stay there. They also refused to look after the property when I was gone. I used to visit whenever I was able to sneak onto the property, but I had to stop as the cottage became more run down. They increased security around the property and got dogs, which meant that I couldn't sneak in anymore."

"Would you mind if I gave you a hug?" I asked her. I felt like she needed the comfort, and I had a strong desire to offer that for her. Once upon a time I would have just hugged her, but after someone freaked out on me when i did, I learnt it was best to ask first.

Rather than answering, the lady turned and wrapped her arms around me. "I have no family left and that home was the last thing that made me happy. It broke my heart to see the way they treated that property. This painting looks exactly like it did when I lived there."

"If it helps, I can tell you that this painting is what the property looks like now. The current owners restored the cottage and replanted all of the gardens when they purchased the property," I told her. "The historic charm was a big part of the reason they were attracted to the property when they were in the market. They knew the amount of work that was needed to bring it back to its original glory and were more than willing to do it."

"Thank you," she said, choking up again.

I smiled at her, and Marc stepping in, asking her more questions about when she had lived there and what the rest of the property had been like. I beamed at Marc. He knew I had a plan and was going to keep her occupied while I put it in place. I slipped out from behind them and made my way back across to where Gabe was working on the landscape of the pineapple fountain.

I stood beside him and waiting for him to realise I was standing there, rather than startling him this time. It didn't take long for him to realise I was there.

"What can I do for you this time? Needs some tips on the dating game? I know you have been on a couple of dates already this month, but it had been a while before that." I cut him off with a look. "Okay, I give. What's on your mind?"

I quickly filled Gabe in on the lady that had been admiring his portrait of the cottage.

"I want to purchase the painting for her. I will transfer you the money for it, and you can wrap it up for her and give it to her. Don't tell her it was me. Just let it be a kind gesture from an anonymous stranger,"

"Flic, you know I can't let you do that," he began to protest.

I flinched at the nickname. It was one that hadn't been used in years and reminded me of the days back in New York. I fought hard to stop the memories from taking control of me. They had been around more lately, since my run-ins with James and Roy. The boys had taken turns to make sure I wasn't alone at night, so if the nightmares returned I wouldn't be on my own and having regular company or something to occupy my day kept the memories away as much as possible.

"Gabe," I cautioned, "give it up. I know your banking information, so you can either let me pay you full price for the painting now, or I can triple the amount that gets dropped into your account anonymously later," I told him, giving him my best Blackbourne stare. "I will go to all kinds of measures to make sure the deposit can't be traced and Victor can't just return it."

He finally relented.

Marc and I offered to share dinner with the lady that had been admiring the painting. She seemed like she had very few people in her life and it was the least we could do after she had shared so much of her history with us. She quickly agreed and we enjoyed a delicious dinner at a nearby restaurant. When we finished up, we brought her back to Gabe's booth. We left our contact details with her so she could reach out if ever she wanted some company and wandered over to admire another artist's work.

We found a discreet place to stand, watching over the interaction between Gabe and Glenys, the lady we had spent some time with. She was moved to tears when Gabe gave her the painting and told her that it was a gift. Poor Gabe had no idea what to do when she started crying and hugged him.