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// Chapter Two: In Which the Fate of the Farm is Discussed 
// Story: A Family Matter 
// by Bardsworth Brony 
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	It wasn't until Sketch was setting the table that Applejack appeared, covered in the dust and dirt of a hard day's work in the overly dry apple orchard.  Despite the grime coating her, Sketch smiled as always, feeling his heart race at her beauty.  The smile didn't go unnoticed, and Applejack returned it.  "Yer happy t' see me, even though ah look like ah was travelin' through the desert?"
"You're an oasis amidst the dunes," Sketch said, setting the dishes down and approaching the orange pony, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
"Ya think yer so smooth, talkin' like that."
"Would you like me to stop?"
"Don't even think about it."
She went to get washed up and Sketch finished setting the table, then returned to the kitchen to make the final preparations for dinner.  His mind wandered as he did, flitting back and forth between the events of the day, then to the events of the past months, and finally to his arrival in Ponyville.  In just a few weeks, he realized, he would have been there for a year.  And it had been the happiest year of his life.  Driven to the colorful town by tragedy, he had settled in and become a part of it, discovering true friendship for the first time.  He had become an applebucker at Sweet Apple Acres, a job that he had never would have considered doing when he was younger.  And he had fallen in love, something he had never even thought possible.  He and Applejack had experienced a rough start, but things had been fantastic since then.
The one thing that was suffering, he thought sadly as he put the food into the serving bowls, was his art career.  Oh sure, he had been filled with inspiration; Applejack was his muse and kept Sketch in a constant state of creativity.  He had produced so many paintings that he could barely find room for them in his studio on the second floor of the barn.  But that was the problem – they were just sitting in his studio.  At first, many of the business proprietors in the area bought at least one of his paintings to hang in their establishments.  But now, not only did most of the businesses have his works hanging on their walls, nopony had any money to spend after the horrors of the drought and the fires.  The economy of Ponyville was grim at best.  And Sketch himself didn't have the money or the connections to get his work into galleries outside of Ponyville.
With a sigh, he put the food onto the table and rang the triangle that hung outside the front door.  As he waited for the Apple family to appear, he thought about the opportunity he had given up about six months prior.  He had been asked to be a resident artist in a gallery in Canterlot, but he would have had to move away from Ponyville.  He hadn't been able to do it; the ponies he had befriended had meant too much to him.  Especially Applejack.
As if aware of his thoughts of her, Applejack sneaked up behind Sketch and surprised him with a kiss behind his ear.  She was freshly washed and smelling of soap, her orange coat still a bit damp and the end of her ponytail dripping.  "Ya look like yer a thousand miles away, sugar cube."
"More like a thousand years.  Just reminiscing."
"Well, c'mon back t' today and tell me about yer first day teachin'," Applejack said as she took a seat at the table.
Before Sketch could answer, Apple Bloom came bounding into the room and said, "He was great, sis!  We're gonna have so much fun doin' art!  And you shoulda seen him handle Diamond Tiara!"
"Oh, fer pony's sake, what did that horse's patoot do this time?" Applejack asked with an exasperated tone.
"She was all 'art is stupid, nyaaaa', but Sketch showed her!"
Sketch just grinned sheepishly.  "It wasn't really that bad.  I just had to point out the practical uses of art."
"Yeah, well, Diamond Tiara is still a big neener-head," Apple Bloom said, as if an expert on the matter.
"I'm sure it's not her fault," Sketch offered, nodding to Big McIntosh as the red pony wandered into the room.  "I used to hear the same stuff from the colts and fillies I went to school with.  They were all brainwashed by their parents, and I’m sure Diamond Tiara is the same way.  I'm hoping maybe I can chip away at that, but…" he shrugged.
"What about the other students?"  Applejack asked. "Were they interested?"
"Yeah, they were, actually.  I was surprised at how many of them were excited about my being there."
"That's because yer cool, Sketch," Apple Bloom said, again using her expert tone.
"Well, it's good to know that yer good with kids," Applejack said with a smile, and Sketch detected a familiar undercurrent to her words.  He smiled, but beneath he felt a rising sense of anxiety that always accompanied Applejack's "hints".  He wasn't sure why they always made him so anxious, but they did.
In an attempt to change the subject, he asked how the apple trees were doing.  The answer was less than positive.  It was expected that the apple harvest would be a poor one that year, the poorest they'd ever experienced.  When Granny Smith sauntered into the dining room, they all switched the topic so as not to upset the older pony.  She had been sick in the intense heat of the summer, and so the rest of the family did what they could to keep her in good spirits and good health, although she would constantly remind the family that she was as fit as she had been in her prime.  Sketch was pretty sure that her joints probably hadn't popped and cracked as much in her prime, however.
After dinner, Sketch and Applejack set about washing the dishes and putting them away.  They did so in silence for a bit before Sketch finally spoke.  "Applejack, what are you going to do about the harvest?"
The orange pony shrugged.  "There's nothin' we can do, sugar cube.  It is what it is.  We're in fer a rough winter, that's fer sure, but we'll manage.  This here family's tougher'n the trunks of some of those apple trees out there.  We've been through a lot, and we're gonna get through this, too."  Her words were fiery and determined, yet Sketch could see the doubt in her eyes.  He didn't say anything, though; instead, he put away the dish he had been drying and then hugged her.  They stayed that way until they could hear a knocking at the front door.
"Now who in tarnation could that be?" Applejack muttered, breaking away from the embrace.  She went off to see about the mysterious visitor while Sketch finished up in the kitchen.  As he put away the last dish, Applejack reappeared, a serious look on her face.  "Sketch, you'd better c'mere."
Curious, and not a little unnerved by Applejack's manner, he made his way through the house to the front door, where he stopped cold.  His brain managed to register who it was he was seeing before it shut down completely.  Ice water filled his veins and the dinner he had just eaten turned to lead in his stomach.  He hadn't been going crazy earlier; he had seen who he thought he had seen.  Both of them.
"Hello, Waldorf," Sketch's father said.