Hooves Holding Hearts
Chapter 2: The Choral Prelude
Ninety Days to Showtime
Either she’s trying to kill the carpet monster, or she’s nervous, thought Bon Bon as she watched Lyra bounce from one pair of legs to another. The waiting room of the Hearts Holding Hooves agency contained many comfortable chairs, numerous magazines that were almost recent enough to be interesting, a shag carpet becoming increasing more battered, and a dozen prospective parents eyeing Lyra nervously.
“Um,” Lyra said quickly to the slumped-over secretary behind the window, who spoke volumes with her stony apathy. “Um. Is the group starting now? Soon? Sometime?”
Bonny allowed herself to stare at Lyra’s moving hindquarters for a few more seconds before dropping her culinary magazine and shuffling toward her spouse. She carefully nipped Lyra’s ear from behind, drawing a quick breath from the now blushing unicorn.
“Woo. Later,” Lyra said with a smile.
Gently, Bonny reached a hoof around Lyra’s neck and began pulling her back to the seats. Noticing that most eyes had stopped watching the pair, Bon Bon reveled in the fact that few things discourage attention more than public displays of affection.
Well, except that stallion in the back, but since he came in alone, Bonny didn’t begrudge him the show.
“Okay, time to sit down, Greenbean.” Bon Bon patted Lyra on the head as she tried to steer her. “Back to the nice, comfy cushions before they throw us out.”
Lyra strained away from her spouse, drawing an exasperated sigh from Bon Bon.
“But, but, we have to not miss the meeting. And we have to be in the right conference room--"
“The door on the left, you mean?”
“O-okay, I’ll just go get some of the coffee to calm down and--"
“No!”
Lyra stepped back from the force of Bonny’s voice. Breathing fast and wide-eyed, Bon Bon pulled Lyra close to her and whispered into her ear, “No coffee.”
The eyes of the assembled ponies started to flicker back towards the pair as Lyra shook.
“Bonny,” she said slowly. “Let me have just a little to calm me down, and I’ll be good.” She started to will the cup towards her but gasped as Bon Bon flicked her hindquarters at it, wrapping her tail around the cup and depositing it on the counter.
Lyra gaped. “Honey, what are you doing?”
“Table,” Bonny simply replied. “Remember the table incident. I love you, and I’m sorry if that was a little much, but we both need to calm down and remember the table.”
Lyra bit her lip hard before slowly releasing a pent up breath. “Okay. No coffee. Calming now. Willing calmness.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to peer at Bonny. “Did you just win with an apology?”
Bonny nodded, her attention already back inside a cooking magazine. “Yup. That’s why I’m the husband.”
Lyra’s reply was cut off as the secretary slammed a bell on the counter. “Group’s on!”
___
Seconds later, Lyra found herself standing at an exaggeratedly lavish table of snacks, while behind her a large number of ponies swarmed like sharks over the smaller number of seats at the conference table.
“Bonny,” she said with trepidation, “we really should get our seats now.”
Bon Bon raised a single hoof into the air without turning, a master artist rebuffing the uninitiated. “Ly, give me a minute. I just have to put my plate together.”
A backwards glance told Lyra that Heartmend, while pleasantly conversing with the other parents, had started to look in their direction. She wiped sweat away from the base of her horn as she learned closer to Bon Bon.
“Bon Bon,” she whispered forcefully, “you’re not filling your plate.” She pointed at the larger stallion at the other end of the table, who currently was doing his best to reassemble a whole watermelon on his flimsy paper dish. “That guy is. What you’re actually doing is rearranging the plates. Rearranging someone else’s stuff, Bonny.”
“Well, why in Equestria would you put the dips and sauces closer to the plates than the entrée ? I mean, no thought was--"
As the stallion next to the pair pointedly ignored them (he was balancing pastries on fruits with total concentration), Lyra started breathing heavily.
“Bonny,” she managed to croak out. “Please. Table.” Bonny turned, seeing the tears in Lyra’s eyes as the shivering unicorn said, “Remember the table.”
Bon Bon sighed deeply, remembering that nopony is always head chef of life’s kitchen.
“Okay, Greenbean.” She placed her hooves onto Lyra’s shoulders, pulling herself up to kiss the wet bottoms of her eyes. “Let’s grab some food and get a seat at the table.”
“Ladies?” Heartmend shuffled a stack of papers at the head of the filled-to-occupancy conference table. “Is everything all right?”
Lyra bit her lip.
“Fine. Just fine,” Bonny said as she pushed herself in front of Lyra. “Little Miss Trouble here may have had an allergic reaction to something in the cooking. Probably an herb.”
Lyra snuffled behind a napkin. “Yeah. Maybe it’s the cinnamon.”
Bon Bon kept her smile while her teeth ground together. “Herb,” she whispered. “Herbs are green. Cinnamon’s a spice.”
“Oh.” Lyra used Bon Bon as a barrier to hide behind while they walked to two cushions in the back of the room, away from the table. “So,” she whispered, “is garlic a spice or an herb?”
Bon Bon sucked in her breath as she sat down. “Nope. Not here. We’ll talk later.”
Lyra plopped down on the cushion, sitting upwards with her plate in the mysterious area she called a “lap” while she leaned against the wall. She instantly heard a sharp intake from Heartmend at the very distant other side of the table.
“Miss Heartstrings,” she asked with a lowering of her glasses, “will you be comfortable like that all night?”
Nodding quickly as if the question asked was the choice of cake or death, Lyra giggled. “Oh, yeah. I do this all the time.” She glanced at the steely gaze of Bonny to her left, then scooted towards her as a large stallion,his overflowing plate held together only by honey and engineering, sat to her right.
“Yeah,” she said to herself with drooping shoulders. "This’ll be a great meeting.”
___
Introductions passed, as did the making of stand up paper name-tags. Bon Bon was worried that a name-tag reading, “Hi, I’m Lyra!!!!!” may have been too much, but they moved on. As the meeting dragged on, the arcane rules of fostering were thrown out for repetition.
“So,” Heartmend said as she chewed on the side of her pencil. “Who can tell me how many days advanced notice I need before you can take the child out of Ponyville?”
Lyra’s hoof shot up as a mare far in front casually said, “Three days.”
“Great!” Heartmend clapped her hooves on the ground before reaching over and affixing a shiny sticker to the mare’s name tag. “You get a golden star. And, what is ‘respite,’ again?”
Bonny facehooved as Lyra levitated her note-taking pencil into the air and wiggled it.
“When another foster parent foalsits your kids,” offered a polite stallion sitting immeasurably far away in the “up-front” region.
Bon Bon’s eyes widened at the whispered profanity that flew out of Lyra. “Calm down,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “It’s just a sticker.”
Lyra sighed. “It’s a tangible sign we’re doing something right. What happens if we’re the only couple without any at the end? They’ll vote us off the cloud or something.”
Bon Bon lifted a hoof to Lyra’s back, quietly but forcefully massaging between her shoulder blades.
“Listen, Lyra, I know--"
“Let’s get a few answers for this one,” Heartmend announced. “So, what’s the worst thing you can think of for a foster child to do?”
As she lifted her hoof, Lyra’s determined glare could have stared back from a Stalliongrad propaganda poster.
“Take bits out of my purse!”
“Talk back to me?”
Heartmend smiled, basking in the glow of her audience’s attention as she stopped before Lyra. “So, Miss Heartstrings, would you like to share your opinion?”
Lyra beamed. “Worst thing?” As she drew in a breath, Bon Bon said a silent prayer to Celestia.
“Um. We get a dog. Yeah, the kid makes us get a dog.” Lyra grinned at the nonplussed audience. “And doesn't feed it.”
“Okay,” Heartmend said as she passed by, reflexively placing a sticker on Lyra’s name-tag.
Bon Bon breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly fled when Lyra said, “Wait. I’m not done.”
Heartmend blinked, turning as the entire class craned their necks to see Lyra. “Oh?”
“Well,” she said with an intake of breath before launching into a verbal torrent, “they only make us get the dog to torture the dog, like as a sacrifice to Discord or the Windigoes or something, and after the ritual she locks Bonny and me in our bedroom and sets the house on fire.”
Side conversations and whispers stopped as the room became so quiet you could hear a pin not only drop but, in fact, could hear a stationary dropped pin just keep being a pin. One of the mares covered her mouth with a hoof as a stallion nearly choked on his carrot.
Heartmend studied Lyra, her face emotionless. “Anything else?”
Bonny closed her eyes as Lyra nodded.
“Well,” she continued, “if we left the medicine cabinet unlocked and she drugged us that night at dinner--"
“Stop it!”
A mare in a large hat, one possibly designed as a back-up pegasus landing strip, stood up indignantly. “Just, stop it! How could you come up with such things?”
Lyra ignored a deep wish for a broken bottle as she wiggled up, presenting as much dignity as she could in her awkward posture on the cushion. “I’m a creative entertainer who reads fantasy, ma’am. I also spent the past few weeks getting used to the idea that every possession I love may be destroyed by a kid.”
Bon Bon smiled desperately, throwing her forelimbs around Lyra’s neck in a theatrical hug. “Isn’t she a kidder?”
“Anything else?” Heartmend asked as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.
Lyra shrugged. “Well, if there’s other kids in the house--"
Lyra’s vocal detractor raised a hoof to her forehead, dropping down as if to faint. Her stallion embraced her while glaring at Lyra. “Why on Tartaurus would you let a kid like that into your house?”
“Ah.” Lyra scratched her ear as she scanned the room, sweltering under the stares of the assembled ponies. “Um. Because no one else will?”
The silence was deafening as she scanned the shock faces of the room. Next to her, Heartmend’s face was fixed into a noncommittal stare as inscrutable as a statue.
“Okay, group,” she said with her eyes locked on Lyra. “Take a ten minute break.”
Lyra’s future with the agency flashed before her eyes, and it involved a burning wicker effigy of herself, possibly with her inside. “So,” she said as she raised her head, her eyes gleaming with the kind of hope a passenger on the Titanic had when asking if someone had a spare boat. “So,” she said conversationally with tears in her eyes, “do I have to give back the sticker?”
As Heartmend’s face remained attentive and unreadable, the larger stallion next to Lyra stood up. Placing down the ruins of his plate, he shambled by Lyra, stopping to smile at her. “Thank you,” he said as he gently tapped her on the shoulder. “You said what we all should feel.”
Lyra shrugged as he walked off. She would see him again years later, receiving a surprise invitation to his adopted son’s wedding. Lyra would pass the ceremonies in confusion, wondering why she was there, until the father became so drunk with joy and cider he would finally admit while toasting that on that long ago day at Hearts Holding Hooves he’d meant to attend the Cake Decoration Society meeting in the next room, and stayed in the foster parent class initially for the obviously superior snack table.
Watching him leave, Heartmend blinked several times. Quietly and carefully she pulled two stickers from her sheet, pasting them to Lyra’s name-tag. As Lyra’s mouth dropped, she turned away momentarily before spinning back to add a sticker to Bon Bon’s name-tag.
“Um, thanks.” Bonny hefted the paper, examining it closely. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Somehow, deserve her,” was Heartmend’s only reply as she walked off to the refreshment table.
___
Eighty-Nine Days Until Showtime
Lyra stood stock still in the middle of the living room, staring hard at nothing. The green bucket resting on her head moved slightly as Lyra shifted the weight of the broom slung over her shoulder. In front of her, Bonny sighed.
Well, Bon Bon mused, if we treat it like a show, she buys in more. Bon Bon sucked in a breath, adjusted her own green bucket helmet, and hoped the windows were closed as she paced in front of Lyra.
“All right, girls,” Bon Bon bellowed at the top of her lungs, drawing vocal strength from the imaginary chefs she was shouting at. “Here’s where we separate parents from the pussywillows!”
Lyra straightened to attention. “Sir, yes, sir!”
Bon Bon wheeled on Lyra, spittle flying from her mouth. “We have one month to get this garbage-strewn refuse hole into shape, and I refuse to fail at this! When Heartmend does the preliminary inspection on this place I want her so impressed that her biological clock orders her to jump in that crib and pop out a kid immediately! Do you understand, soldier!”
“Sir, Yes, sir!”
Stamping her hooves onto the floor as she stopped walking, Bon Bon mused on the allure of the armed forces. “Any questions, horse apples? You, with the sexy smile! Speak up, private!”
“Um.” Lyra saluted, halfheartedly. “Bonny?”
Bon Bon sighed. “Yes, Greenbean? Didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”
“Do you really think we live in a garbage-strewn refuse hole?”
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Bon Bon shook her head.
“Lyra, do you remember when your orchestra got new uniforms, even though the old ones looked fine?”
“Well, yeah,” Lyra snorted, pausing to remove her bucket helm. “We had to change the dress code since we were moving to more upscale venues.”
Bon Bon smiled. She kept smiling. As Lyra stared at her silently, Bonny tried hard to keep smiling, so much so that Lyra started smiling too in case she missed something.
Her smile beginning to convey homicidal mania, Bon Bon finally said, “And so..."
Lyra’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She giggled. “Sorry, I thought you were just making music talk.”
“B-b-but,” Bon Bon stammered as she removed her officer’s bucket helm, complete with three stars. Lyra and Bon Bon took role-playing seriously. “You were smiling. That meant you got it, right?” She turned, grabbing a feather duster and sweeping the corners of the room to occupy her frustrated mind with tedium. She loved dust. In the right amounts, it worked wonders on a relationship.
Down-crested, Lyra started to levitate the magazines and books from the table (and, really, most flat surfaces around) to two piles on the couch. “I just... thought you wanted to discuss my career. I like it when you do that. I do get it, though.”
As Lyra created the Leaning Tower of Humanworld, Bon Bon filled her dustpan with scraps of paper and filled the uncomfortable silence with not much.
Of course, being married to Lyra for years meant she was only marginally surprised minutes later when a grinning unicorn jumped off the couch and tackled her. The pair rolled around on the floor, Bonny’s rump hitting a bookshelf and triggering a rain of pointy-weaponed action figures to fall on their heads. Sucking in a scream, Bonny looking up at the straddling Lyra, who pinned her to the ground, and said, “What?”
“Yard sale!” Lyra leaned back and clapped her hooves, drawing a spike of pain from Bonny’s back. “We’ll throw a yard sale! Recoup the cash, liven up a weekend, and clear the house!”
Reaching into her hair, Bon Bon pulled out a human. “Well, I think this extra toy you have might net a bit or two.”
“That’s Allied Command Lawyer-Knight Heinfroth Chen-Rosenberg, with spear-swinging and slugthrower-aiming action!” Lyra’s mouth hung open in shock. “You want me to sell him?“
“You have two of him,” Bonny said with a grimace. “And you have like, three of that angry one with the ‘bad night in the bathroom’ face.”
“Royal President Ramses Sally Sweetback, with knife launcher and soccer stick!” Lyra levitated the figure out of Bonny’s grasp, drawing accessories into his hands as he slowly spun in the air. “I need one for collecting, one for playing, and one for in-box display.”
Bonny’s flung her head back in frustration, grimacing at the sharp contact with the floor. “Listen,” she said as she rubbed her forehead, “baby or less toys? Not ‘baby or toys,’ mind you, but ‘less toys.’ You can keep some, but they’re gonna want some for themselves and we need to make room.”
Lyra sighed, rolling off of Bonny and onto the floor. “Baby,” she said as her glowing horn made the toys reenact President Sweetback’s climactic fight with Premier Knifefingers on the Magic Mouse Castle. “All right, so I cut down the collection. Maybe I’ll clear out some collections I don’t display.”
Bon Bon steeled herself as she looked into Lyra’s face, seeing the mix of nostalgia and determination. Here comes the second of reality’s grim one-two buck. “So,” Bon Bon said, preparing herself. “If you got weapons with them we could charge two bits for each.”
The high-pitched sound Lyra responded with might have been spellable without vowels.
“What?” Lyra flipped onto her hooves. “I paid, like, eight bits for that!”
___
As Lyra sputtered protestations, Bonny was far away. She was a filly again, her family manning blankets on their lawn on a long gone summer’s day. A field of her dolls spread out in neat rows on her fabric selling space. At the moment, she was sniffing in offense as a pegasus her own age gestured at her with coins held in a wing.
“I’ll take those two in the dresses.”
Bonny snorted. “I dunno.”
The shocked little lavender girl sucked in a breath. “B-but... the sign says two bits each.”
Bonny nodded. “Gimme a minute.” She walked to her father’s other side, casting a last suspicious look at her potential customer as she crossed the yard sale blankets.
A few hoofs away the ancient art of commerce was practiced by a friendly white-coated stallion. “How about this, my good pony,” he said as he smiled through his blue handle-bar mustache, “This shirt can’t go for three bits, but I’ll give you two for six.”
The bulky customer squinted. “Ain’t that the same price, Spin?”
Bonny’s father shrugged. “I can’t go below four bits for just one sale.” While the customer mulled over the merchandise, Spinning Plates rubbed a hoof through his daughter’s mane. “Bonny! How’s the toy department coming?”
Bon Bon leaned her head onto her dad’s coat, idly nudging around a nearby hoofball priced at three bits.
“Daddy, Lilly Blossom wants to buy my dollies.”
Spin nodded in approval while accepting six bits from his customer. “Excellent! That’s my little salesgirl. When we get our restaurant,” he said, gently wiggling Bonny’s nose with a hoof, “I’ll have you run things one day.”
After spending a few moments watching his wife sell extra kitchen supplies on the other side of his yard, Spin became aware of his daughter’s silence. Looking down, he saw wet eyes stare back at him. Shifting from a selling smile to a parental smile, Spinning Plates drew her into a hug.
“Bonny, you want the new Miss Pinnacle doll, right?”
Bon Bon nodded, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Well,” Spin said as he licked his lips, “we’re going to need some bits for her. She’s expensive, you know. When was the last time you played with those dollies?”
Bonny shrugged, looking away.
Spin patted her on the head. “If you sell some of the dolls you don’t use to people who’ll take good care of them, you’ll be able to afford a Pinnacle doll. You’ll be happy, she’ll be happy, and the dolls will be happy.”
As Bon Bon considered this, Spin turned to a curious bespectacled mare with pencils for a cutie mark. Holding a bronze pencil sharpener, she asked with raised eyebrows, “Where did a chef like yourself ever get such an antique in good condition, Mister Plates?”
Spin leaned in. Letting the customer in on what appeared to be trade secrets was an ancient way of getting repeat business. “I have a soft spot for teachers. Between you and me, Miss Sharpener, we occasionally check the abandoned settlements inside the edge of the Everfree. Found a schoolhouse there from a ghost town. We took the entire old chalkboard and used it to help Bonny with her homework. It’ll be the menu board of the restaurant, one day.”
Miss Sharpener raised a hoof to her chest. “The Everfree Forest? Isn’t that a tad too dangerous for foraging? Why, it seems like yesterday they lost a ranger to that chimera in there!”
Spinning Plates shrugged. “The periphery is perfectly safe for skilled bargain hunters like my family! Why, otherwise I’d never be able to offer you that wonderful little number for ten bits.”
As he took the coins from the happy schoolmare, Spinning Plates cast a glance back to Bon Bon. While one day in the future she’d wish with all her heart that her father would’ve listened more to Miss Sharpener, at the moment Bonny was passing three dolls to Lilly Blossom, accepting five bits in return. Her eyes met his, and she sheepishly smiled.
___
Years later, Bon Bon gently picked an action figure out of Lyra’s hooves. She took a deep breath, and thought of her dad.
“Love, would you rather have extra toys you don’t really use, or extra bits for the baby? Maybe more diapers or formula? You..." Bonny held her breath for a second. “You have to make sacrifices for your kids.”
Lyra turned the figure back and forth in her hooves, taking a moment to pop off his suitcase breastplate and feathered headdress. She rolled over to look at Bonny. “My dad said that, once.”
Bonny rubbed her hoof into Lyra’s belly. “He was right, Greenbean. He was just too much of a plothole to know how to do it well.”
Lyra stood up. Her horn glowed as a cardboard box levitated off the ground and flew past the bookshelves. As it drew by, every second or third action figure flickered with magic and jumped in, occasionally saluting.
Bon Bon picked up her broom, speaking through her teeth as she said, “Show off. Hey, what do humans use a soccer stick for, anyway?”
Rooting around in her box, Lyra raised an eyebrow, “Well, for shooting the puck into the goalie, of course. Didn’t you read the third book?”
“Of course,” Bon Bon said as she rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “Lyra, if a gate to this Uurth realm ever really opens, I’ll need you to make sense of the darn place.”
___
Sixty-Seven Days Until Showtime
“Come on, everybody!” Lyra shouted as she paced the perimeter of her lawn. “See the most amazing yard sale in Ponyville! Be astounded at how far your bits will take you!
The position was perfect. "Their little cottage sat on the corner of Marketplace street and a lane of small shops and eateries, possibly the most well-trafficked corner in Ponyville. Lyra could not have gotten a better placement for a yard sale if a draconequus had rearranged the houses.
Still, no one was here. A U-shaped fleet of tables enclosed a field of blankets, every surface covered with books, housewares, and more, and no one had arrived to look at anything.
Lyra walked slowly to Bonny, staring at the grass philosophically as she went. While maintaining eye contact with a beetle, she said to her spouse, “I don’t think it’s working.”
Bonny kept her attention inside her magazine as she said, “Finish the pitch.”
“Really? I feel weird..."
“Hey, Canterlot girl,” Bon Bon said as her eyes half-peeked over the pages. “I put myself through the first semester of culinary school this way. This is how you do it in Ponyville.”
Returning to the lawn’s edge, Lyra stared with little confidence at two crates sitting noticeably away from the rest. Out of one stuck out a crop of picked flowers. The other had two bent horseshoes, an umbrella with no fabric left, and a few bent spoons sticking out.
“All right,” Lyra said as she glumly nodded. With a mental switch that most ponies would need something prescription-strength to accomplish, seconds later found her perched on a table, bouncing from one leg set to the other. The table made non-appreciative noises.
“See the amazing yard sale... with free snacks and free stuff!”
Memories of the parasprites welled up inside her and she shrieked as a devouring wave overtook the lawn, some of them so fast she swore they left little dust clouds. She was nearly pitched onto the ground as an elderly mare bumped her in the leg.
“Get off the housewares table, ya scabber. I’m tryin’ ta look.”
Lyra jumped down, trying to miss the family now rooting through her toy collection. Shaking her head, she ran to Bon Bon’s blanket, finding her already making change for two bonnets, a rolling pin, and a cookbook.
“Bonny, they came! They came to buy our stuff!”
An amused eyebrow was the immediate answer.
“This crowd?” Bon Bon shrugged as she passed a box of seed bags to a lanky colt. “This is nothing. What time is it?”
Lyra turned to squint at the distant clock tower. “It’s, um, nine-fifty-nine, I thi--"
A larger mare suddenly slammed into her, sending her off her feet as a dozen ponies crowded the blanket she was standing on. Lyra stared at the clouds for a second before an amused cream-colored face came into her vision.
“The crowds start at ten, Greeny,” Bonny said as she pulled Lyra to her feet. “Now get selling!” A firm smack to Lyra’s rump sent her blushing into her own area, and as she bounded onto her blanket the sounds of bargain-hunting filled her ears.
“Honey, do you think they’ll take five bits for this?”
“Whoo-ee! Looky here. Free fixer-upper umbrella!”
“Wow. The entire Humanworld series!”
Her ears perking up, Lyra saw a scrawny stallion peering through his glasses at her boxes. Letting loose a high-pitched cry of exultation, she leaped in front of him, a toothy grin at the ready. He backpedaled out of surprise.
“Oh,” he said as he steadied his glasses. “If you were going to buy these..."
“Nope,” she said as her front legs bounced up and down. “Selling them! One bit each!”
He rubbed his scrawny mustache as he nudged the books around. “Well, they’re in good condition..."
Her hoof came into his view, holding something with a pink dress.
“I’ll throw in a Business Princess Lauren figure with karate sword action.”
His eyes widened as he accepted the doll. “Pink,” he said, drawing the word out with a grin. Suddenly shaking his head, he chuckled. “Um, and a novel accurate double-barreled karate sword. I-I’ll take her. Uh, and the books also.”
Minutes later found Lyra rolling up her now-empty toy blanket as she watched her humans walk off in the hooves of children. She made her way back to Bonny with a thoughtful look on her face, making change and hemorrhaging possessions as she did so. She sat next to Bon Bon with a coin purse full of bits.
“I, uh, just sold my Humanworld paperback set,” Lyra said while looking away.
Bonny’s eyes went wide. “All of them? Great! Did you get fifteen?”
“Yeah,” Lyra said with a sheepish nod, “but..."
Turning to a customer, Bonny shrugged. “If you had to throw in something to make the sale, that's okay. Yes, sir, the tools come in a set. Seven bits.”
After a second’s dealing, Bon Bon turned back to the silent Lyra, whose eyes were guiltily searching the grass. Bonny lifted Lyra’s chin up with a hoof, staring into her eyes expectantly.
“Lyra, if you made a pricing mistake I’ll forgive you. Did you throw in something big?”
“Yeah. I sold book eight.”
Removing her hoof, Bonny blinked several times. “I’d assume so,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “That’s what ‘complete sets’ mean, remember?”
Lyra drew in a deep breath. “That was one of our first dates, remember? You and me standing in the bookstore yard, waiting in the prerelease line.”
Biting her lip as she picked up and passed a gardening book to a customer, Bonny asked, “What else did you sell with it?”
“Just an action figure.”
Bonny nodded. “Okay. So, we still have the taste of the ice cream you licked off my nose, right?”
At Lyra’s confused silence, Bonny continued while passing the box of kitchen supplies to an eager customer.
“You didn't throw in the feel of our first kiss, and I still own the memories of you knocking over that stack of books and everyone staring. All you sold was stuff.”
Bon Bon tapped the speechless Lyra on the nose, and said “Stuff goes. Memories stay. You didn't sell the night. Just a book.”
Her eyes welling up, Lyra turned to already find Bon Bon staring at a younger, pinkish-purple unicorn. She was pretty in an athletic way, with a yellow flower in her hair and the eyes of a Saddle Arabian street merchant. Silently, they locked gazes with the intensity of hoofball players waiting for the whistle.
“Ma’dam, how much is this set of gardening tools?” She stared at Bon Bon, leaning forward in anticipation.
“Twenty bits,” Bonny said with a daring smile.
As Lyra watched the two, a blue unicorn stepped next to her, levitating a bag of popcorn. “You want some, Lyra? This’ll be good.”
Lyra blinked. “Minuette? What’d you mean?”
“Twenty?” The pinkish mare snorted, throwing her head back indignantly. “Why, may the shades of my ancestors dog my hoofsteps for all time if I happen to waste the family fortune like that!” She took a step forward. “Twelve.”
Bonny shook her head with amusement. “Twelve, she says. Twelve.” She grinned with a dark chuckle. “They should take away my right to raise a family if I let that go for twelve. No dice, Sparky. I might not feel broken-hearted for sixteen.”
Lyra stepped to the side in confusion as several bystanders moved in to watch.
With an analytical look, the young bargainer flung a hoof across her forehead. “Sixteen? Well, I am stunned at the cold disregard you have for other ponies, seeing as you’d probably steal the dentures from a starving stallion.”
Shrugging, Bonny snickered. “Hey, you’re the one who’d offer him a half bit for his last sandwich.”
As whispers streaked through the growing crowd, Lyra turned to Minuette. “What in Celestia’s name are they doing?”
With a snort, Minuette passed over the popcorn bag. “Ly-ly, you moved here from Canterlot a few years before I did. You don’t know?”
Lyra shrugged, blushing.
Leaning in, Minuette whispered with growing enjoyment. “Let me guess. Bon Bon does all the buying in your house?”
Lyra meekly nodded, eyes wide in anticipation of the coming revelation.
Minuette wrapped a forelimb around Lyra’s neck, rubbing her mane playfully with a hoof. “Honey, this is how Ponyville girls go shopping. Sparky may be foreign, but aside from the sexy accent she’s a Ponyville girl through and through.” Turning back to the economic struggle, Minuette shrugged. “Oops. Looks like we almost missed the ending.”
“Fine! I am defeated!” Bon Bon’s adversary fell back onto her haunch and threw up her hooves. “Fifteen bits, and I will return to my parents in shame to deliver the goods and to ask them which daughter they can afford to keep.”
Bonny smiled as she took the girl’s bits. “Here you go, Sparkler. Tell Ditzy and your father I’d love to have you all over for dinner sometime soon.”
“Great,” Sparkler said with a nod. “Dinky always loves that carrot pudding thing. Minuette, let’s hit the ground hard and fly away. There are more dealings to be done.”
“‘Hit the..." Minuette’s eyes crossed in confusion.
With a sigh, Sparkler asked, “Is it not being the hip saying about leaving?”
Blinking several times, Lyra leaned in and offered, “Let’s bounce?”
“Indeed!”
As the two left, laughing, Bon Bon called after them. “Hey, Sparky!”
Sparkler turned with an embarrassed grin. Bon Bon stepped forward, pointing a hoof at recently sold tools.
“You totally could have knocked me down to twelve,” Bonny said with a smirk. “You were going easy on me.”
Sparkler blushed, and turned redder as Minuette let loose flurry of amused giggles. “This is the sale for fostering and adoption, no?” Sparkler bit her lip. “It is being for a good cause, after all.”
Bon Bon nodded, giving her a quick hug as she returned to her blanket. She was gratified to see Lyra in her place on the blanket.
“And may a thousand parasprites nest under my saddle if I sell this for less than six bits!” Lyra raised a hoof to her chest, swaying as the customer passed her a half-dozen coins.
Huh, Bonny thought. Theater girl’s got some potential. She took her seat next to Lyra and began counting through her change purse. “I like those kids,” she said, idly watching the two giggling unicorn girls disappear down the street.. “Let’s hope we can get a daughter like them.”
“Yeah,” Lyra agreed as she stood up. “Bet they’ll be making out in an hour.”
Bonny’s hooves steered in the wrong way as she dropped a hoofful of coins onto the blanket. “Huwbuwha?”
Lyra winked. “Bonny, you do selling. You know what ponies want. I make music. I know what ponies need. Those two are crazy over each other, and one of them just has to break down long enough to admit it.” She batted her eyelashes. “Remind you of anyone?”
Sputtering, Bon Bon picked up her bits. “You know, if I count this right, the good news is... Wait a second, Miss ‘What Ponies Need.” You make music and I make food, remember?”
“What’s the good news,” Lyra said with glee, “aside from the fact that I have a very keen wife?”
Bonny grit her teeth in mock offense. “Your very keen husband can count. We can afford the big crib, now. We just have to buy it... and assemble it.”
___
Sixty-Two Days to Showtime
As the sounds of woodworking filled the cottage, Ditzy Doo-Smith beamed at Lyra over tea, or as Ditzy’s Bronxian mother would have said, she ‘kvelled with joy.’ “I’m so excited for you two!” Ditzy exclaimed as she nearly hugged her teacup, her golden eyes spinning with joy. “You’re both going to make great parents.”
“Thanks. Thanks for bringing over John to build the crib, and filling out all that paperwork, too.” She sighed. “I know the forms are annoying, but we need it done if we have to leave you and John with the kid.” Lyra looked up from her tea, casting a thoughtful glance at the nursery door.
“You know, John’s not a very common name. Where does he..."
“Croupwich,” Ditzy added automatically. “John’s from Croupwich. It’s a very traditional Croupwich name.”
“Oh.” Lyra sipped her tea in thought. “That’s a far village. Never ever played Croupwich on tour.”
“Yes,” Ditzy said as she nodded emphatically. “Few ponies ever go there.”
A chestnut-colored face covered in sawdust poked out of the nursery door. “I think I have it, love,” said John Doo-Smith, Ponyville’s town repairpony. “Just a little more jiggery-pokery and it’ll be set up.”
A loud clank from the nursery made Lyra jump. Ditzy narrowed her eyes as softer clanks could be heard moving across the room.
“Honey,” she said to her sweating husband. “Is anypony in there?”
Lyra noticed a strange emphasis of the word “pony” in Ditzy’s words.
“Um.” John fiddled with his tie. “No. Nopony.”
“Did you follow the instructions exactly, dear?”
Across the house, Lyra could swear she heard something fiddling with the far nursery door.
John nervously scratched behind his neck. “Yes, Definitely. Well, almost totally mostly. Well..."
Ditzy placed her teacup down, folded her hooves, and looked at John with a polite smile that promised an imminent night on the couch. “Honey, should there be anything moving in the nursery?”
Lyra was now certain that someone was scratching at the nursery window. As she took a curious step towards the door, John quickly jumped in front of her with a pleading grin.
“I’ll take a look at that! Might have added one or two extra parts from the repair shop that may... disagree with me.” He pulled out a small metal wand with a glowing tip. “Be done in a jiff.”
Lyra opened her mouth, but turned to Ditzy first. Ditzy produced a wide confident smile, and Lyra sat down in her chair, reassured.
As her husband’s hourglass-bearing flank disappeared into the nursery, Ditzy called back after him, “Maybe do it by the instructions this time?”
Staring into her swirling tea leaves, Lyra’s mind swam in a distant pool away from the Doo-Smith’s banter. Taking a deep breath, Lyra looked straight into Ditzy’s eyes. She was one of the few people who could do that, having gotten used to placing bizarre strains on her body, and knew that Ditzy appreciated it.
“Whoah.” Ditzy carefully placed her cup on the table. “That’s the serious look.”
Carefully resting her head on her hooves, Lyra asked “Is it worth it?”
Ditzy shifted in her chair. “What are you going to have to change?”
“Well, there’s work.” Lyra gently slide her cup around on the table from hoof to hoof. “I’ll have to tour with the kid. Bonny will need at least as many hours at the cafe as she has, if not more. We’re going to need either child care or rearranged schedules. Know any babysitters?”
Ditzy began frantically waving her forelimbs in the air as if waiting for a hoofball pass, and Lyra nodded before continuing.
“We’ll have less time for hobbies. Stuff will break. I’ll have to sit through some really obnoxious kiddie plays.”
“Some will be on ice,” Ditzy offered. “Go on.”
As Lyra paused to tally marks in her head, Ditzy reached across the table and gently placed her hooves over Lyra’s. “Are you happy with the way your life is?”
“Yes,” Lyra said without thinking.
“When you’re old and wrinkly, would you be happy if you never changed this? I mean Bon Bon can get her own restaurant, you both get better jobs, but the dynamic never changes.”
Lyra stared at the table before slowly shaking her head. She jerked back up in her seat when Ditzy learned over and licked her nose before leaning back into her cushion, giggling and shaking her wings.
“Ditz’? What was that?”
“My anti-moping lick, silly moop.” Ditzy picked up her tea cup again, wriggling in her seat. “Lyra, I left behind a life of constant travel and adventure for nailing myself down for my kids, and I’ve never once wished I hadn’t.”
Lyra’s smile spread until the loud noises of something being disassembled somewhat involuntarily filled the house. As the sounds of John grunting in pain as he apparently kept hitting himself with a hammer filtered through, Lyra smirked.
“Man,” she said to Ditzy, “I don’t know what that guy would do without you to keep him on track.”
Ditzy blinked, keeping a polite smile on her face. “So, how’re you holding up with Bon Bon at her parents this weekend?”
“Sweet Celestia, I ate good! She always makes a bunch of my favorites before she goes. I might have gone through them too quickly, since I’ve stayed up reading ‘till morning for a few nights, so I’ve been ordering out for two days. I misplaced the coin purse this morning, though, and..."
As blushing Lyra looked away, Ditzy took a particularly victorious sip of tea.
___
Fifty-nine days to showtime
The front door slammed open as a soaking wet Bon Bon did her best impression of an equine battering ram. She stood in the doorway, momentarily panting as she took in the living room. In a moment of mercy, the universe did not provide an irritated Heartmend staring back at her from the couch. Good, she’s late too. Bonny hung her saddle-umbrella on the rack of various and sundry Lyra possessions (including a Hay Fawkes mask, an Zebfro wig, and an ancient candy cane). Dropping her dripping saddlebags at the door, she rushed into the kitchen.
As a pile of salt spilled down onto the floor from a half-drenched and vegetable-slathered counter, Lyra sat on the floor. Leaning against the back counter, she ignored everything else on the menu as she dug her teeth into her hoof. Above her a cloud smelling of onion clung to the ceiling.
“I can’t do this,” she said as she rocked back and forth. “I can’t do this.”
A sharp smack knocked Lyra’s hoof out of her mouth. Bon-Bon’s glare was a casserole of emotions garnished with a dusting of concern.
“No, Lyra. Not that bucking thing again.”
“Bonny! You’re home!” Lyra slowly spread the smile her brain had to appease predators as she leapt to embrace her stern taskmistress.
Bon Bon, as if two forelimbs weren’t clutching her neck for dear life, whispered back, “No.”
“What, the hoof biting?” Pulling back, Lyra turned to levitate a dishrag across Lake Countertop. “That’s harmless. That’s small.”
Bon-Bon continued to stare as she let out a deep sigh. “That’s how it always starts, Hun. Very small.”
Lyra nodding, starting several unsuccessful sentences that ran into each other. “I’m just trying to get this right, and I... I can’t..."
Bon Bon nuzzled Lyra, terminating any hope of an explanation as the overwhelmed chef sagged on her feet. Giving Lyra’s ear a quick nip, Bonny gently pushed her aside.
“No, love, don’t explain. I see what you’re trying to do.” Rearing up onto the counter showed Bon Bon the remains of what must have been a particularly brutal vegetable civil war. With a look of resignation, Bonny dipped a shaking ladle into a bubbling pot. She met Lyra’s eyes as she sipped it, being reminded of what Twilight Sparkle’s eyes looked like years back, staring into Celestia’s after that magically-compelled riot.
Well, at least we got our game of “Lonely Wizard and Shy, Compelled Mare” from that debacle.
Bon Bon drew out a breath, preparing for diplomacy. “The salt’s a good start, but there’s a little too much. You have aromatics in the pot, mixing about. That’s a good thing. Onion’s a useful thing to learn. There’s all these..." Bon Bon said, and stopped as she scraped the inside of her skull for words to describe things chef knew but rarely spoke.
“There’s nothing in there. You have a bunch of things waiting around for a main attraction.”
Lyra shook, staring at the floor.
Turning back to the counter, Bonny began assessing the disaster. “Look, Greenbean, do you want to be useful?”
“More than anything,” came the reply.
Bonny bit her lip.
“Lyra, get the table clear and get your harp out. Play some relaxing numbers for when Heartmend arrives. I’m going to make macaroni, and leave the vegetables just onto the side, as you like, and use that noxious runny cheese, just like you like. I’ll make some tomato and pepper sandwiches on the side.”
”With..." Lyra said with a sniff, “with the tomatoes...”
Bon Bon sighed. “With mayonnaise directly on the tomatoes to lower the acidity. I swear, Cheerilee needs to keep her chemistry out of my kitchen.”
Lyra lifted her head up, determination pulling itself upwards for another round in the ring.
“I’ll go clean up the table now, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, dear,” Bon Bon agreed with a slight nod as she surveyed the disordered tools spread out across the kitchen.
Lyra swallowed. “Then, I’m going to hold you the entire time you’re cleaning the counter and cry into your mane.”
Bon Bon nodded again. “Yes, dear,” she said before gasping as she was pounced from behind. Lyra hung onto Bon Bon, and Bonny felt Lyra’s quick, warm breath on her neck.
“I love your mane,” Lyra whispered. “If we have a kid, I want them to have your mane.”
Bonny furrowed her brow as she cleaned the counter. “Honey, we’re adopting, remember?”
“No prob. We’ll use scissors and glue.”
___
The collective breath of the house was held as Heartmend walked down its corridors with an appraising look. Bon Bon and Lyra stood a few steps behind, taking notes on suggestions and passing the time. Lyra passed the time by nervously vibrating her front foreleg to the point that telegraph operators would have heard messages in it, and Bonny passed the time stopping her.
For Lyra, the most nerve-wracking part was being judged by the imaginary. At least, that’s what it felt like as Heartmend made her rounds. Lyra would watch her stop, stare at something too small to notice, and then begin whispering to herself with movements of her head. Looking like she was consulting an invisible council, Heartmend made Lyra want to scream.
“Is this..." Heartmend poked a hoof at the nursery door, jumping back as a green blur appeared beside her.
“Yes?” Lyra’s grin would have made dentists and serial killers proud.
Heartmend blinked, then turned back into the nursery. Pursing her lips momentarily, she shrugged and smiled. “Nothing, dear.”
As Heartmend walked into the nursery, Bonny saw veins bulge on Lyra’s forehead. Quickly but quietly, Bon Bon stepped to her side and buried her face into Lyra’s neck in a forceful nuzzle. Her spouse tipped back and forth for a second before breathing out, but any thanks from Lyra was cut off by Heartmend.
“Okay, I need your help, ladies!” Heartmend sounded perfectly calm and sane, which was why Lyra’s mind froze and Bon Bon chuckled nervously as they walked into the nursery.
They had worked on it for months. On one side of the room, a mobile of ponies with musical instruments twirled above a large crib framed with elegantly carved wood, looking like it had grown into place. Across the room stood a normal bed, ready for older children. Between the two was a bookshelf of colorful toys and books, including the human doll that was the end result of a hard-fought compromise. A cuckoo clock hung over a cabinet near the door, the cuckoo peeking out of his hole at disbelief at what he was seeing.
Heartmend was in the crib.
The adult mare was squeezed into the small wooden area, eyes looking up expectantly at the pair of prospective parents.
Bon Bon did a double-take while moving, colliding with the side of the clothes cabinet and nearly knocking the blue canary nightlight onto the floor and setting the fireflies inside to work in bathing the room in blue light.
Lyra blinked several times. The cuckoo made eye contact with her, chirped while pointing at Heartmend, and retreated into a gear-filled world of order and sense.
“There’s a monster in my closet,” she said. “Do something.”
As Bon Bon tried to form a response, Lyra’s eyes lit up. “It’s role-play! Like what Cheerilee’s family does with the weird dice. Bonny, we can do this!”
Bon Bon raised her eyebrows and silently nodded.
“I mean, Miss Heartmend, when Bonny and I role-play, normally I’m the dancing mare and...”
Lyra’s sentence trailed into a smile as Heartmend heard a sharp smack on Lyra’s flank.
“So,” Hearmend said. “Pop quiz, hot shot. There’s a foal in this crib and a monster. What do you do?” Her eyes flew from Lyra to Bon Bon. “What do you do?”
Bon Bon walked out of the room.
As alarm bells went off inside Lyra’s mind, she saw Heartmend’s unimpressed gaze bore into her. Chuckling madly, Lyra went up and caressed Heartmend’s mane. “I’m right here,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”
“There’s a monster in the closet,” Heartmend said with watering eyes that could have made any parents buy her a puppy, if not several.
Lyra sighed, closed her eyes and started to sing a wordless melody, notes keeping keeping pace with her moving hoof. After several seconds, the sound of stomping feet shocked her into opening her eyes.
That was when Bon Bon walked in with a foam club in her mouth.
Both of the mares in the crib stared wordlessly as Bonny walked to the crib and spat it down in front of Heartmend.
“Here,” Bonny said with a confident smile. “If any monster comes out, smack it in the face. They’re wimps. They turn tail at the first sign of trouble.”
“That’s my Humanworld re-enactment--”
Bon Bon shoved a hoof into Lyra’s mouth. “It’s an official Royal Guard monster-whacking club. It's how they drove the monsters out of Canterlot.”
Heartmend adjusted her glasses for a second before stepping back into character. “But, what if I go to sleep and--"
Bonny shook her head. “Monsters have to wake you up before they come out of the closet. Union rules. They lose their benefits otherwise.”
Heartmend looked from Bon Bon’s grin to the open-mouthed stare Lyra was giving her spouse. Nodding, she said,”All right, you passed that test.”
A moment of silence followed.
“Miss Heartstrings, you can stop stroking my mane now.”
___
In the light of a guttering candle, Heartmend stood up from the living room cushion while gathering stacks of completed paperwork into her saddlebag. “All right, I think we’re done here.” Sparing a glance at Lyra (currently sprawled out, using Bon Bon’s stomach like a pillow), she smiled. “Miss Heartstrings, I hope when you were comforting me it didn’t get... uncomfortable.”
“Oh, heck no!” Lyra snorted. “I mean, I didn’t think about it that way at all.” Giving Heartmend’s leg a playful tap, Lyra continued. “Don’t worry, you’re not remotely my type.”
Bon Bon’s head jumped up as Heartmend stared back.
Looking into Heartmend’s blank eyes, Lyra’s teeth chattered with trepidation as she worked to pull herself up. “I mean, I like my girls with a little more meat on them.”
Heartmend paused a moment before saying, “You’re on the list.”
“No!” Lyra threw herself to the floor in front of her caseworker. “Please, I didn’t mean..."
She stopped as a snorting Heartmend tousled her mane. “No, that was a good save, Miss Heartstrings. I meant you and your... spouse are on the official waiting list. I approve of you.” She giggled. “A lot, in fact.”
“Really?” Tears ran down Lyra’s cheeks.
Clicking her tongue, Heartmend turned to Bon Bon. “Is she always like this?”
Bon Bon giggled as she stepped forward, sitting down across Lyra. “Yup,” she pronounced with a nod as Lyra struggled to rise. “And she’s all mine.”
“Well,” Heartmend said as she knelt down to Lyra’s eye level. “Lyra Heartstrings, I hereby announce that I would be happy to place a child in your home. I give you the official seal of being a decent and responsible pony. After all,” she said with a lift of her head, “you order your Humanworld books in chronological story order rather than publishing date. Not bad for someone in a second-rate orchestra.”
As Heartmend turned onto the street from their yard, she could still hear Lyra laughing.
__
Forty-seven Days Until Showtime
Relaxing in front of the fireplace (with the child safety gate installed), Lyra gently floated the book in the air. At her side, Bonny’s eyes were wide in rapture at the tale of levitating swords and sorcery. Reading together, the two mares breathed in the poetic world of barbarian stallions and swordsmares for entirely different reasons. Lyra secretly fantasized of swooning into the grasp of some charismatic heroine. Bon Bon, on the other hoof (or hand, depending on whose fantasy novel it was), dreamed of carving out a kitchen kingdom by her own will, swinging spatula in her mouth as she trod her workplace’s tiles with her sandaled hooves.
“Her mighty thews strained,” Lyra read aloud, “as she finally pushed the foul monstrosity off the Tower of the Giraffe. She suddenly turned like a panther, the spirited Cimarronian staring at the freed temple maiden as--”
Blushing, Lyra caught her breath as a knock sounded at the door.
“Man,” Lyra said as she glared daggers at the door, “we’re at my favorite part.”
“I know,” Bon Bon said as she teasingly licked Lyra’s nose and trotted to the door. Opening it let in the sound of pounding rain and the sight of a bedraggled pegasus shaking his dripping, long mane.
“Hey,” he said conversationally.
“It’s late,” Bon Bon said as she narrowed her eyes. “So, there are at least three good reasons that you’ve got the wrong house.”
“Yeah.” He pawed the ground nervously. “Hey. Um, I’m from Hooves Holding Hearts?”
Lyra jumped to the ground, squeaking as she nearly dropped her book into the fireplace.
Bon Bon stared at the stranger as he stood in the downpour. “So..."
“You, uh, totally passed the inspections, right?”
“Yes,” Lyra screamed as she galloped to the door.
“Desired age is newborn, right?”
The mares looked at each other quizzically. Bonny gestured for him to go on with her hoof. “And...?”
“What? Oh, yeah, right.” The stallion snorted. “Well, want a kid? We kinda just got one, and it kinda needs to go to a home tonight.”
Raising a hoof to her chest, Lyra’s breath caught in her throat as she started laughing. Bonny’s mouth opened as she turned to Lyra, mumbling her words in incoherent joy.
“So,” he asked with a raised eyebrow, ignoring the rain. “You up for it?”