Happy Birthday Mrs. Dorran! 🖌 [Public]

[Alternate Text: An image of a painter’s palette that is full of different paints mixing and mingling together to create new hues. The title says: "Happy Birthday Mrs. Dorran!"]

In honor of Mrs. Dorran's birthday, I wanted to share a section from TFS: Book Two where she shines! (Her birthday post from last year can be found: here.)

She's one of the very first characters we meet in the series; her kindness leaves a lasting impression, especially in contrast to some of Fernweh's other townsfolk. That being said, it seems Mrs. Dorran is noticing more about the MC and their relationships in this book. 👀 You could trigger quite a few scenes with her depending on your choices. This one features the JR route!

However, she will make appearances, sometimes cause interruptions 😉, offer well-meaning advice, be there for comforting hugs, and more during your 'visit' in Fernweh. 🌲

(I accounted for all of the gender combinations, so please scroll to your preferred pairing! This is a section of a much longer exchange between J, R, and the MC. 💜)

James and Reese

The two of you exchange farewells, but you get off the porch swing as soon as James is out of sight, intent on leveling the playing field.

 *page_break

"Do you have the phone number for the Verner mansion?" you request.

Mrs. Dorran owlishly peers over the top of her vintage interior design magazine at you, which allows the cover image of a fountain to conceal the bottom portion of her face. When she lowers it, her expression of mildly intrigued surprise resembles the circular water feature, a slight 'O' to her lips. Maybe you should have asked Silas for the phone number instead.

 "I thought you were still sitting with James outside?" she asks. "I flipped on the better string lights for the two of you—the gold ones."

That was both thoughtful and worrying; you know Mrs. Dorran means well. "I was, but I need to tell Reese something. It's important for—" She shuts the magazine in a flurry of glossy paper, setting it aside without a second thought and motherly herding you over to a landline phone. You're unable to string together the number she punches in, though her thumb stills over the actual input button.

"Bad news is always best given in person," Mrs. Dorran warns you, holding the phone closer to herself, almost protectively. "This isn't that, right? I sure hope not. He won't sleep."

What does she think you're going to say?

"No, it's about a group dinner tomorrow night."

You almost let out a breath of relief when a warm smile graces her features again and she hands the phone over without another word.

It's extremely short-lived when you realize Ms. Verner could answer rather than Reese.

*page_break

"Verner residence, Reese speaking."

Reese's prim and proper reply filters through the speaker after a momentary wait where your heartbeat seemed to sync with the dull dialing tone. You're fortunate he picked up. "Is that really how you always answer the phone?"

"[Surname]?"

Reese says your last name with much more emotion, enthusiastic instead of elegantly poised. The change alone is enough to bring a small smile to your lips that you don't even realize. "I haven't used one of these in ages."

"They have a certain charm, less static for me to hear you better and more privacy," Reese replies. "As for your question, yes and no. It depends if my setup has a caller ID. My greeting for you would be more personalized."

The insinuation in his tone curls through the speaker, tempting, but you're doing this for a reason.

Jane and Ruby

The two of you exchange farewells, but you get off the porch swing as soon as Jane is out of sight, intent on leveling the playing field.

 *page_break

"Do you have the phone number for the Verner mansion?" you request.

Mrs. Dorran owlishly peers over the top of her vintage interior design magazine at you, which allows the cover image of a fountain to conceal the bottom portion of her face. When she lowers it, her expression of mildly intrigued surprise resembles the circular water feature, a slight 'O' to her lips. Maybe you should have asked Sofia for the phone number instead.

 "I thought you were still sitting with Jane outside?" she asks. "I flipped on the better string lights for the two of you—the gold ones."

That was both thoughtful and worrying; you know Mrs. Dorran means well. "I was, but I need to tell Ruby something. It's important for—" She shuts the magazine in a flurry of glossy paper, setting it aside without a second thought and motherly herding you over to a landline phone. You're unable to string together the number she punches in, though her thumb stills over the actual input button.

"Bad news is always best given in person," Mrs. Dorran warns you, holding the phone closer to herself, almost protectively. "This isn't that, right? I sure hope not. She won't sleep."

What does she think you're going to say?

"No, it's about a group dinner tomorrow night."

You almost let out a breath of relief when a warm smile graces her features again and she hands the phone over without another word.

It's extremely short-lived when you realize Ms. Verner could answer rather than Ruby.

*page_break

"Verner residence, Ruby speaking."

Ruby's prim and proper reply filters through the speaker after a momentary wait where your heartbeat seemed to sync with the dull dialing tone. You're fortunate she picked up. "Is that really how you always answer the phone?"

"[Surname]?"

Ruby says your last name with much more emotion, enthusiastic instead of elegantly poised. The change alone is enough to bring a small smile to your lips that you don't even realize. "I haven't used one of these in ages."

"They have a certain charm, less static for me to hear you better and more privacy," Ruby replies. "As for your question, yes and no. It depends if my setup has a caller ID. My greeting for you would be more personalized."

The insinuation in her tone curls through the speaker, tempting, but you're doing this for a reason.

James and Ruby

The two of you exchange farewells, but you get off the porch swing as soon as James is out of sight, intent on leveling the playing field.

 *page_break

"Do you have the phone number for the Verner mansion?" you request.

Mrs. Dorran owlishly peers over the top of her vintage interior design magazine at you, which allows the cover image of a fountain to conceal the bottom portion of her face. When she lowers it, her expression of mildly intrigued surprise resembles the circular water feature, a slight 'O' to her lips. Maybe you should have asked Silas for the phone number instead.

 "I thought you were still sitting with James outside?" she asks. "I flipped on the better string lights for the two of you—the gold ones."

That was both thoughtful and worrying; you know Mrs. Dorran means well. "I was, but I need to tell Ruby something. It's important for—" She shuts the magazine in a flurry of glossy paper, setting it aside without a second thought and motherly herding you over to a landline phone. You're unable to string together the number she punches in, though her thumb stills over the actual input button.

"Bad news is always best given in person," Mrs. Dorran warns you, holding the phone closer to herself, almost protectively. "This isn't that, right? I sure hope not. She won't sleep."

What does she think you're going to say?

"No, it's about a group dinner tomorrow night."

You almost let out a breath of relief when a warm smile graces her features again and she hands the phone over without another word.

It's extremely short-lived when you realize Ms. Verner could answer rather than Ruby.

*page_break

"Verner residence, Ruby speaking."

Ruby's prim and proper reply filters through the speaker after a momentary wait where your heartbeat seemed to sync with the dull dialing tone. You're fortunate she picked up. "Is that really how you always answer the phone?"

"[Surname]?"

Ruby says your last name with much more emotion, enthusiastic instead of elegantly poised. The change alone is enough to bring a small smile to your lips that you don't even realize. "I haven't used one of these in ages."

"They have a certain charm, less static for me to hear you better and more privacy," Ruby replies. "As for your question, yes and no. It depends if my setup has a caller ID. My greeting for you would be more personalized."

The insinuation in her tone curls through the speaker, tempting, but you're doing this for a reason.

Jane and Reese

The two of you exchange farewells, but you get off the porch swing as soon as Jane is out of sight, intent on leveling the playing field.

 *page_break

"Do you have the phone number for the Verner mansion?"

Mrs. Dorran owlishly peers over the top of her vintage interior design magazine at you, which allows the cover image of a fountain to conceal the bottom portion of her face. When she lowers it, her expression of mildly intrigued surprise resembles the circular water feature, a slight 'O' to her lips. Maybe you should have asked Sofia for the phone number instead.

 "I thought you were still sitting with Jane outside?" she asks. "I flipped on the better string lights for the two of you—the gold ones."

That was both thoughtful and worrying; you know Mrs. Dorran means well. "I was, but I need to tell Reese something. It's important for—" She shuts the magazine in a flurry of glossy paper, setting it aside without a second thought and motherly herding you over to a landline phone. You're unable to string together the number she punches in, though her thumb stills over the actual input button.

"Bad news is always best given in person," Mrs. Dorran warns you, holding the phone closer to herself, almost protectively. "This isn't that, right? I sure hope not. He won't sleep."

What does she think you're going to say?

"No, it's about a group dinner tomorrow night."

You almost let out a breath of relief when a warm smile graces her features again and she hands the phone over without another word.

It's extremely short-lived when you realize Ms. Verner could answer rather than Reese.

*page_break

"Verner residence, Reese speaking."

Reese's prim and proper reply filters through the speaker after a momentary wait where your heartbeat seemed to sync with the dull dialing tone. You're fortunate he picked up. "Is that really how you always answer the phone?"

"[Surname]?"

Reese says your last name with much more emotion, enthusiastic instead of elegantly poised. The change alone is enough to bring a small smile to your lips that you don't even realize. "I haven't used one of these in ages."

"They have a certain charm, less static for me to hear you better and more privacy," Reese replies. "As for your question, yes and no. It depends if my setup has a caller ID. My greeting for you would be more personalized."

The insinuation in his tone curls through the speaker, tempting, but you're doing this for a reason.