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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ sɪɴɢʟᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ꒱


❝ GUITARISTS ALWAYS CARRY
AROUND A LUCKY PICK ❞

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That Saturday, Barron joined the other two Capelwoods for dinner as had become their tradition. Daly had made a chicken dish and it was always a nice surprise to Juliet— who had lived most of her life off school food, her friend's food or pasta— that her mom was such a good cook. 

The three of them were sitting around the coffee table in the den like usual since Daly hadn't made an effort to get a third tall chair for the kitchen table. Juliet had just finished the recount of recent hijinks she, Cory and Shawn got up to during the school week (with occasional notes about Topanga) while she studiously ignored her parents' amused glances whenever she mentioned Shawn's name abnormally often.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Daly changed the subject. "So, how's the construction project going?"

"Quite well," Barron answered, pleased that she had mostly forgiven him for his. . . oversight in omitting the story until the last minute. "I've got all the permits approved and we'll be ready to start construction in June."

"June?" Juliet asked, confused. "Why would you wait so long? Can't you get started sooner?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, "I could start as early as three weeks from now. But I didn't want to interrupt your school routine until I had to so I decided it was best to wait until summer."

The redhead was surprised by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

"Of course," he told her. "If I was in your place I wouldn't want my parents to disrupt my schedule, either, if they had the power to do so. I do, and so that's what I did. Of course, we'll have to figure out where you're going to stay during the construction but I'm sure you've already been thinking about it."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I thought I might stay with. . ." she trailed off hesitantly before she offered: "Shawn."

"Topanga," her mother corrected her.

"Topanga," Juliet amended her statement quickly. "I thought I might stay with Topanga."

"That sounds like it will be a lot of fun," Daly commented with a smile. "Cory and Shawn are wonderful, of course, but it's nice that you have a female friend to spend time with."

"I know. After spending so much time with the boys, Topanga pretty much had to teach me everything about being a girl."

"I had. . . another thought," Barron spoke up tentatively. Juliet turned her attention to him and he resumed: "I of course agree that you can spend time with your friend, but I was thinking that, maybe, you'd like to spend the weekends with me?"

"With you?" she repeated curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I usually rent apartments in New York when I have to be physically at work but my. . . regular home we'll call it, is upstate and a great place to spend the summer and time when you're not at school. If you're interested, you could come visit next weekend to see if you'd like it."

Juliet didn't say anything for several long moments, clearly making the dark-haired man anxious about her answer. He needn't have worried. Of course she was going to say yes. She was just in awe of the role her father was playing in her life now. For so long, she had believed that he must be a terrible person, that he would hate her and wish she hadn't been born. Over the months that she'd gotten to know him, he'd proved himself over and over again and shown that none of these things were true. He made every effort to spend time with her when their schedules allowed, he tried to get to know her as a person rather than buying her affection and he was everything she had ever dreamed a father could be.

"Yes," she breathed out excitedly. "I would love to!"

A broad smile grew on his face and he turned enthusiastically to the woman next to him. "Did you hear?" he inquired as if Daly hadn't been listening to the conversation the whole time. "She said yes!"

The red-haired woman chuckled. "You don't have to make it sound as if you've proposed but yes, I heard. I told you that you didn't have to worry."

"If you like the place, we'll get to spend some quality father-daughter time together," he continued eagerly. "I could even teach you to throw a ball, if you'd like. Although you probably already know from boys being your best friends. And I'm not that good, but still. And you'll get to meet your uncles. . ."

Juliet couldn't help but feel a strong surge of fondness for the dark-haired man in front of her. She was glad that spending time with her was something he looked forward to and something told her that this would be in her top-ten-summers list. She interrupted her father's rambling to ask a question: "Barron?" He quieted and nodded for her to continue. "Can my friends come visit during the summer? I'd love for you to finally meet them."

"Of course," he conceded immediately. "I'm certainly looking forward to meeting Shawn. With everything I've heard between your mother and you, I feel like I already know him."

The redhead groaned. "Maybe I shouldn't invite him," she realized, "if you're just gonna embarrass me."

He smiled goofily at her. "Dontcha know that's my job?" Juliet shook her head in exasperation as he added, "so, would you want a sample visit this weekend? To see if you're going to like it?"

"I already know I will," she promised, "but I'd definitely like to come up regardless. I didn't have much planned, either, since Cory's getting a tonsillectomy this weekend."

Daly gave her a concerned look. "Don't you want to be there for your friend?"

The redhead gave her an amused one in return. "No thanks. I already know how it's gonna play out: Cory will get freaked out by something that Shawn will tell him. Topanga will try to calm him down. He'll be all worried about the surgery and then come out just fine." She shrugged. "He'll be more over dramatic than normal and I don't mind skipping out on him this time."

"Well, if you're sure, darling."

🌎🌎🌎

At school on Wednesday, Juliet's doubts were starting to catch up to her. She'd never spent much time with her father alone and she was starting to worry about what would happen if they ran out of things to talk about. Besides that, she would be meeting her uncles for the first time and it was important to her to make a good first impression. She had a habit of overthinking things when change was around the corner.

She continued to worry as she put her books in her bag, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously as she fretted over the coming weekend. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even hear Shawn greet her. She quickly spun around when he put a hand on her shoulder, causing him to smile. "I was gonna say 'hey, Julie' but maybe I should say 'hey, Jumpy.'"

She sighed and zipped up her bag before she closed her locker. "Sorry, Shawnie. I was thinking."

"Over thinking," he corrected her. "About what?"

Together they made their way slowly to the cafeteria and she explained: "I'm going to be spending the weekend with my father."

"And you're worried about. . ."

"What if something goes wrong? What if he's been putting on an act this whole time and he's more like my grandfather than he says he is? Besides, Greg's supposedly an ass so meeting him won't be fun and—"

"Julie," Shawn interrupted her patiently, bringing her rambling to a stop, "do you think any of that is true?"

"Well, the Greg thing, yeah," the redhead admitted, "but not so much the other things. Still, it's—"

"Change," he finished for her in understanding. "But," he continued, stopping and turning her so that she could face him, "it's not nearly as scary as when you first met your father, is it? And besides, even if it turns out he's been lying this whole time, you know you've got a way out, right?"

She released her bottom lip to stare up at him in momentary confusion. "I do?"

"Yeah," the boy stated as if it were obvious. "Me."

"You?"

"Well, I know I can't drive or anything but I am pretty good with coming up with excuses, so if you called me I could get you out of there," he pointed out. "We could always send Turner to go pick you up or— oomph."

At his words, Juliet had thrown her arms around him and was now hugging the boy tightly in gratitude, having never felt more appreciative of his presence than she did in that moment. Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say to get her to stop obsessing over the oncoming presumed difficulty.

"Thanks, Shawnie," she mumbled against him.

"'Course, Julie," he told her as he returned the gesture. "That's what. . ." He'd been about to say friends are for but they weren't really that, were they? Even he could tell something had changed between them in these past few months. He finished, "I'm for."

Juliet pulled away and he couldn't help the pang of disappointment he felt when she did so. He sighed when he realized she was still doing her nervous habit. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

The dark-haired boy pointed to where her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth. "That. You always do it when you over think things and it drives me nuts."

She gave him a guilty look and released her lip. "Sorry," she apologized before she added, "I do?"

"Yeah," Shawn mumbled, as if he were embarrassed for noticing it. Feeling inexplicably tense, he ran his hand through his hair, too preoccupied to notice the redhead's suddenly captured expression as he abruptly changed the subject. "So, lunch?"

🌎🌎🌎

Whereas the Montacutes' family mansion had been of the more classic style, Barron's fit in with the New England fashion and was built with what was clearly old stone if the ivy crawling up the sides was anything to go by. The gardens were also more simple than the Montacutes' with the main part of the greenery being perfectly-cut grass that stretched down to the lake at the end of the property.

Inside, the decoration was also less ornate which Juliet found preferable to her previous experience with ostentatiously decorated mansions. Instead of trying to show off the amount of wealth he had (as Jack's family had), Barron preferred to decorate with good taste. He'd made sure Juliet's room was on the lakeside and was more to her style, which had surprised her when she'd first stepped foot in it. He'd admitted sheepishly that Daly had showed him pictures of her room so he could emulate the feeling here to make sure she was comfortable (and he'd done a wonderful job.)

It was finally Sunday, the day her uncles, Sam and Greg, would be coming to meet her. While she wasn't too nervous about Sam— seeing as how her father had many good stories to tell of that particular brother— Juliet was anxious about Greg who still remained mostly a mystery. The two brothers were twins and two years younger than Barron, yet all three of them couldn't be more different.

For their meeting, Juliet had chosen to wear a dress (which she made sure to tell her father that it wasn't a frequent occurrence) and had done her best to pull her hair up into a halo braid in an effort to appear more like Shakespeare's Juliet despite her dislike of the comparison. Now, she and Barron were waiting in the expansive living room for his brothers to arrive. As expected, the redhead was overthinking the meeting and was chewing on her bottom lip nervously, disregarding Shawn's request (he wasn't here, anyway) as she twisted her hands in her lap. 

Sensing her anxiety, Barron turned and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Juliet," he started, "you can relax, you know. They're just your uncles."

"But I want to make a good impression."

As pleased as he was that she cared so much, he wished it wouldn't make her worry. "You will," he reassured her. "I've already told them a lot about you and they can tell I'm proud of my daughter. Even Greg won't cause trouble and if he does, I can kick him out."

She cracked a smile at that and his words did help slightly. "I just wish they'd get here—" she began, only to be interrupted by the door opening.

Two sharply-dressed men entered the room, one tall and thin with dark hair and blue eyes, the other shorter and slightly stockier with lighter hair but the same-colored eyes. Barron sighed. "You couldn't dress down for this?"

The shorter man smiled brightly. "We're making first impressions here, 'Ronnie. Besides, I always dress nicely."

"As do I," the taller man concurred. "Out of the three of us, you're the one who dresses like a slob."

Immediately, Juliet could tell who was who and she took a quick liking to Sam, who continued: "so, where is this impressive young lady?"

She stood quickly and smoothed out the teal skirt of her dress. "Right here," she spoke up for the first time and extended a hand. "I'm Juliet."

Barron watched proudly as his daughter introduced herself with a maturity that was often absent in most teenagers. Greg— predictably— gave her the once-over, his eyes narrowing analytically as he stared at her. Finally, he took her hand and gave it a single shake before he quickly dropped it. "Greg, but I prefer Gregory. You may call me uncle if you wish, though I will respect you more if you don't."

With that, he turned his back to her and sat at a nearby card table, looking bored. Sam rolled his eyes. "You've got to forgive him. Long car rides don't sit well with him. Nothing does, really. I'm Sam and you can call me uncle if you'd like but if you're not ready yet, that's completely understandable." He shook her hand warmly.

Barron clapped his hands. "Great. Now that introductions are over, I'll call in the tea and scones." A derisive snort from the card table made him turn. "Yes, Gregory?"

"Tea and scones?" his brother repeated scathingly. "What are you, a seventeenth-century English lady?"

The dark-haired man sighed and gritted his teeth against a snarky reply that he normally would've answered with. However, Juliet was there, watching the exchange with wide eyes. "Why, what would you serve?" was what he responded with.

"Coffee, like a proper American. Cheese and crackers, perhaps something of the Italian nature to support our family's roots," was the prompt reply. "And wine. Especially the wine."

"Well, this isn't your meet and greet," Barron countered tartly. "If you had reached out first, you would have been able to decide these things. This is what we're having and you can decide for yourself if you want anything."

"Fine, fine," he dismissed with a vague wave of his hand. "This isn't how father would have done it."

"It's a good thing I'm not him then, isn't it?" Barron turned to his daughter and gestured to the couch a little ways from the table. "Why don't you get to know Sam while you're waiting, Juliet? Your Uncle Greg is being an ass."

"It's not being an ass if you have standards," Greg called over.

"I think I'll take you up on that," Juliet stated quickly, and she took her uncle's arm to pull him over to the couch.

After they sat, he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'd say he isn't usually like this but he is. I don't know how we were born on the same day. I must have kicked him on the way out or something." He gave her a wry smile. "If I didn't, I should have taken the opportunity when I had it. He's been taller than me ever since. Anyway, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Juliet and Sam got along well. They had similar literary interests as well as a dislike for math. Sam's favorite ice cream was also Mint Chocolate Chip. He also wasn't afraid to drag Greg through the proverbial mud and told her funny stories about her dad and even one about her mom (Daly had only met the brothers a few times before Barron had been banned from seeing her.)

"What type of music do you listen to?" the man asked as he prepared his tea that had arrived a few minutes ago. "You can tell a lot about a person from the type of songs they like."

"Well," the redhead remarked as she broke off a piece of cinnamon scone, "I usually listen to sixties to eighties music. Some music that's come out recently but not much, and Barron's recently got me hooked on Vivaldi."

Sam didn't seem shocked. "He tries to convert people to classical music all the time. He's surprisingly talented at finding pieces that will become someone's favorite. He introduced me to Carmen and now I have a recording of the opera to listen to whenever I want. I bet he could find Greg's piece of he would let him. Unfortunately, Greg doesn't listen to music."

"Now that's definitely not a surprise," Juliet joked. "What's your favorite music?"

"Any type of rock," was the man's immediate declaration, "especially the ones you can play on a guitar."

She perked up slightly. "Do you play?"

"Yes, actually," Sam confirmed proudly. "Since I was in college which— believe me— was quite a few years ago."

"Did you bring it with you?" Juliet questioned him eagerly.

He clearly wasn't expecting such interest but he smiled brightly. "Yes, in fact. It's in the car. I'll go get it!"

It took some time seeing as the house was quite large, but her uncle returned with the case in hand and took his seat next to her again. After unlatching the clasps, he pulled out a guitar of light brown wood with a slender neck. He placed the case on the ground and held the instrument carefully in his hands. "Even though I've pulled it out a hundred times, I never get tired of looking at it."

"It's beautiful," the redhead complimented him. "It must be very important to you."

"Yeah," Sam said quietly. He paused and looked up, as if assessing her before he continued carefully: "my. . . boyfriend got it for me. For my birthday."

Juliet blinked at the new information before she wondered, "do you know where he got it from?"

The brunet relaxed and shared, "a rather well-known guitar maker, actually. Jedidiah Lawrence?"

Her eyes widened. "One of my best friends is his daughter!"

He gave her an amused smile. "Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She looked at him curiously. "How long have you known your boyfriend?"

All the adults she knew were either married or single. She'd never met someone older who was still dating someone, so she was intrigued to know if adults dating was different than students dating.

"Six years," he replied, "though we've only been dating for four. I procrastinated for quite awhile before asking him out."

Juliet grinned. "Well, I think I have you beat. Try eleven years and counting."

They started talking about their respective love interests before she brought the conversation back around to the guitar. "So, d'you think you could teach me to play?" she requested, partly joking.

"Sure." Sam shrugged. "I taught Taylor how to play Ain't No Sunshine pretty easily."

"Could you teach me how to play My Girl?" she asked hopefully, "that's my favorite song."

"No problem," he answered cheerfully, handing her the guitar.

"What are you doing?"

"Teaching you how to play," the man replied, looking confused.

"Shouldn't you play the song for me first?" Juliet suggested.

"Alright," her uncle agreed, taking the instrument back.

The familiar chords sounded as he began the song and Juliet sat forward slightly, attentively watching where he placed his hands on the strings in hopes that it would help her when it came to be her turn.

🌎🌎🌎

As it turned out, she had a rather good ear for music and Sam guessed that it was because both of her parents were so musically inclined. She had to agree since, after a handful of tries, she was able to replicate the exact notes. It was the first instrument she'd ever played and she was almost disappointed when the visit wrapped up; Sam and Greg had to go back to work and she had school the next day with a long drive to get back to Philadelphia.

As they stood gathered by the door (Greg was already in the car) Sam pulled her aside. "I admit that I was rather nervous about meeting you. I'm not quite sure how to be an uncle, but I do have to say that I'm glad you're my niece. I can tell why 'Ronnie's so proud of you. I've, um, got something to give you." 

He held out his hand and she extended hers. Something cool and plastic fell into it and after a quick study, Juliet realized it was a guitar pick. It was yellow with Counting Crows written in sketchy font. She stared at it in surprise, remembering that it was Shawn's favorite band. It really was a small world.

She looked up, confused. "But I don't have a guitar."

He shrugged. "You know how to play a song, don't you? You're a guitarist. Guitarists always carry around a lucky pick. At least the ones I know do."

"Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, "thank you, Uncle Sam."

She was rewarded with a pleased expression from the older man. "Of course, niece Juliet," he teased her.

Juliet tucked the gift carefully in her bag and said goodbye to her uncle before she met her father in the car. She remembered her uncle's words and made sure to take the pick with her everywhere she went. 

[written mar. 2020]
[ edited may 2022]