Evelyn didn’t really think of herself as a relationship counselor, but this world didn’t seem to have such roles. The comments sections of romance stories had included lots of good advice and ogling of abbs. Her mind thought back to some of the detailed drawings of male chests and bodies. 

She forced herself to focus on the topic at hand. Relationship advice. “I might be able to help. What’s the situation?”

“My wife isn’t talking to me! She’s been giving me the silent treatment, and yesterday she even locked me out of our bedroom,” he sounded quite indignant about the last part.

She might be able to help with this one, but she needed more details. “Did anything happen recently that might have upset her?”

The man shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”

“Have you directly asked her what you did wrong?” Evelyn asked as she walked forward to her spot at the counter.

“Yes,” he said.

“And what did she say?” Evelyn asked. She was impressed the guy had even thought to ask what he did wrong.

“Well I didn’t ask exactly like that. I asked her if she was giving me the silent treatment because of a hormone thing or something,” his response made Evelyn facepalm.

“Rule number one in any relationship, it is never ever hormones unless a woman says it is, and even if she says it is you don’t say that,” Evelyn had been surprised when she first heard the term “hormones” used to describe a woman “acting up” since this was a fantasy world that wasn’t that technologically advanced, but she’d come to realize that the people of this world used the word she knew as hormones to mean any time a woman wasn’t a docile happy person.

Any man who asked about hormones or anything like that was in the wrong, just as he would be in the wrong in her old world. 

“Then what should I say? She’s clearly angry and I have no idea why,” he seemed genuinely confused, and Evelyn felt a brief moment of pity for the fact that this man hadn’t learned proper communication skills.

“You are going to buy a flower arrangement for her, you will sweep the floor, clean any dishes around your place, and put everything away that is cluttering your house. If she still isn’t speaking to her, you will directly say ‘Will you please tell me how I have wronged you so we can discuss this and figure out how to move forward?’” Between the apology flowers and house cleaning, the woman should be willing to speak to him again.

He ran his fingers across the brown stubble on his chin. “Why do I need to buy her flowers? And why are you suggesting I do her cleaning work?”

This might be a larger problem than Evelyn had realized. “The flowers are an apology for the comment about being hormonal. She should have communicated with you better, but my guess is maybe you haven’t been listening, so she’s done communicating. The house cleaning is because the thing that makes a woman happiest is a man who cleans without being asked. You will bring yourself into her good graces enough that she will be willing to talk to you, and discuss why she is so mad at you. You skip the house cleaning and I’m betting she’ll walk out on you.”

Evelyn wasn’t quite certain of this, but she knew flowers, chocolate (which didn’t seem to exist in this world unfortunately), and house cleaning were the way to a woman’s heart. And the sexiest man in existence was a man with initiative. Or at least that’s what she’d inferred from comments she’d read, and from the fact that the thought of someone just up and doing her cleaning for her made her feel a deep longing for that someone. 

“I don’t really know - “ the man started to say before John interrupted. 

“I think it would be best if after house cleaning you instead said to her: ‘I’m not sure what has gone wrong, my love, but I know something has upset you.’ And at this point you give her the bouquet of roses,” John held out his hand as if he were holding a bouquet of roses. “While holding it out to her you say: ‘My love, would you be willing to go to a third party intermediary with me? Evelyn’s Flower Shop is known for their good relationship counseling.”

Wait, what? Evelyn thought as she stared at John with a wide eyed look. She was not a marriage counselor. She was just an avid reader of romance web novels, web comics, and a frequent commenter. She was nowhere near qualified for this. 

John lurched over to be next to her and put a hand gently on her shoulder. “My mother used to say that when tempers are high and ears are closed, nothing works except talking to someone outside the problem.  For the price of a couple flowers, you can come here to talk and clear up any misunderstandings that exist.”

John was a visionary, but Evelyn still wasn’t sure she was the woman for the job. She had commented about couples needing marriage counseling, but she didn’t know what counseling to give. Well, at worst she could just listen to them and maybe stop them from yelling at each other. She would pray tonight to whatever power brought her here that she could handle this. 

The man looked between the two of them with a look of desperation. “That still doesn’t fix the issue that I don’t know how to sweep or clean dishes!” he burst out.

Evelyn and John were both silent while they stared at the man in a state of shock. Evelyn closed her gaping mouth and warmed the frosty air. “Did your mother not teach you as a child?” Evelyn asked.

“No,” the man said defiantly. “My mother said it wasn’t a boy’s place to do any cleaning as that was a woman's work.” 

John hobbled over to the corner where the broom was kept, grabbed it, carried it over to the man, and thrust it at him. “Then you might as well learn today,” John informed the man.

Evelyn had seen John sweep, and while he knew how it was clearly hard for him. She’d seen him attempt it while using a cane, and then attempt without. Both times she’d stopped him and sent him off to do other tasks. His balance looked quite precarious and she worried for her broom’s bristles whenever he leaned on it to catch himself. She went out from behind the counter and gently stopped him. “John, I’ll teach this man cleaning and you can get started with making the flower arrangement he will purchase.”

John paused, looked at her with slightly narrowed eyebrows as if he was trying to figure something out, and then shrugged. “Okay,” he said before hobbling away. 

Maybe if he had something like crutches it would be easier for him to do a chore like sweeping. She’d go to one of the wood working shops and see if they could make something like that for him after work. She wasn’t sure he would appreciate her trying to help him, but at the same time his cane really seemed more of a hindrance when he was trying to get things done. 

Evelyn turned back to look at her student, who was staring at the broom in his hands like it was a snake. “What’s your name?” she asked the man.

“Richard,” he responded in a downcast tone. He had come expecting an easy solution to his woes, and how he was going to have to work for the result he wanted.

“Richard, let me see the broom,”she said. He handed it over with a look of hopeful relief. “You hold it like this,” the look of hope died from his face as she showed him how to grip it. “And you sweep like this with a flicking motion,” she moved the broom sweeping a couple strokes along the floor. “Your turn,” she handed it back to him.

He dragged the broom across the floor in a slow motion that wouldn’t do anything except shift dirt around. This was going to be fun. Evelyn worked with him till he got the motion right, had him make piles, and then set him to sweeping the room as another customer came in. Least he could do was work for the lesson he was getting. 

John brought out a bouquet of red roses in a vase and set it on the counter. He went and corrected Richard while Evelyn took the order for a bouquet of red roses, just like the ones on the counter, for the third day of the flower festival, right before the shop closed. It was her least favorite kind of order, but it was the flower festival and would be the best business she got all year if she could gauge anything about business. 

The man left and Richard was still sweeping when Lady Elizabeth came like a cloud of flower petals through the door.