Beginning #3
There were so many questions behind that statement.
Questions and, strangely enough, a trace of guilt.
Luna frowned. What did Mr. Grimm have to feel guilty about?
It wasn’t his fault the Authorities had marked her with this stupid heptagram tattoo.
It wasn’t his fault a great terror of sorcery swept throughout Plym in the wake of the Shadowbane Lady’s rise and fall, causing even old family friends to look on Luna with fear-limned eyes.
It wasn’t his fault the shadows arrived on her doorstep.
“I do,” Luna said, taking care that her voice remained neutral.
“But I’m having an adventure, aren’t I? Something that never could have happened back home in Greater Snoring.
” She took a large gulp of tea, let the delicately spiced liquid glide soothingly down her throat.
Time to change the subject. “And how is business today, Mr. Grimm?” she asked firmly.
He blinked once, opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Then, submitting to the abrupt conversational shift, he answered, “Booming,” and tapped the logbook with one finger.
“Those tables of yours were certainly a brainstorm. Customers, who might otherwise peek in, see a crowd at the counter, and leave, now have a place to linger. And we do tend to sell more flowers to lingerers. I only regret not implementing your idea sooner. At this rate, I’ll have to give you a raise. ”
“Oh, no, Mr. Grimm.” Luna waved a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t dream of accepting. Not until we’ve got our feet well under us.”
They held each other’s gaze for a moment.
Then both, as though on cue, turned away.
The words we, our, and us seemed to echo in Luna’s ears.
She hastily lifted her teacup as a sort of shield, but found herself peering at Mr. Grimm covertly over the rim.
Was that a tinge of color staining his cheeks?
He blew on his tea.
And her gaze dropped to his lips.
She’d noticed them before: full and supple, unexpectedly so in a face that might otherwise be described as ascetic.
But even that asceticism, which had rather intimidated her at first meeting, had smoothed out on further acquaintance.
And it was always counterbalanced by that floppy yellow hair of his, whenever it managed to escape the pomade he insisted on using.
His features were fine, almost delicate, but all quite squarely cut.
It was difficult to reconcile the polite and proper man in front of her with that image she’d glimpsed in his tea mug all those weeks ago. That man’s eyes weren’t full of shadowed sorrow, as though constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop. They had burned.
What would it take, Luna wondered in the privacy of her mind, to make them burn again?
The answer came in tones of stern warning: A redhead.
Luna set her cup down in its saucer. “Well, I’m done!” she said brightly. “Are you? Here, let me take that back to the kitchen for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Talbot,” Mr. Grimm said rather absently.
His attention seemed to be caught by something out the front windows.
Curious, Luna looked to see a large automagic truck pass by with strange metal contraptions sticking out from the bed.
Pieces of a fete wheel, unless she missed her guess.
“Something seems to be going on down by the harbor today,” Mr. Grimm observed.
Luna laughed at his mildly perplexed expression. “It’s the Saint Jollify Fair. Didn’t you notice?”
He cast her a short, sideways look. “I don’t pay all that much attention to goings-on outside the shop. What is Saint Jollify?”
“Apparently, it’s a citywide celebration.
” Cups and saucers still in hand, Luna moved to stand beside him.
They watched together as a series of trucks rolled down the road, carting those enormous metal posts and gears and bearings.
“My roommate tells me they celebrate Saint Jollify here in Ballycastle as part of the lead-up to Green Yule. According to legend, Jollify was the herald of the Green Mother, you see. He went before Her into the world, bringing joy and bounty and the promise of the Green Mother’s presence in the depths of winter.
Bryony says the harbor is the main festival center in Lower Eastside. ”
“Bryony?”
“My roommate. She says there will be games and rides down by the water. We should see lots of foot traffic passing on Addle Street. It’ll be a profitable day for the shop tomorrow!”
Mr. Grimm turned to look at her. She felt his gaze on the side of her face. “Don’t you want to attend the festivities?”
She glanced at him quickly then looked down at the teacups in her hands.
Truth be told, she would very much like to go.
Bryony claimed it was quite the thing, with delicious food, and dancing, and games, and raffles, and spectacles from Foreign Parts.
“I wouldn’t want to leave you to manage the shop on your own,” she said.
“Especially when it’s likely to be busy. ”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Mr. Grimm rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head away from her.
“Yes, but, you see, I was . . . I thought perhaps, since business has been so good lately, we might just . . . close up the shop for a day. Then you could . . . we could . . . that is to say, if you like, we might . . .”
Luna realized she was holding her breath.
Was Mr. Grimm about to invite her? To go to the festival? With him?
Not just with him but . . . with him?
Obviously, she’d have to turn him down. The last thing she should do was step out with her boss.
What would that look like? Auntie Arabella would tell her she must mind appearances, and Auntie Aurora would entreat her to pray most prudently before making any rash decisions.
Only she didn’t have time to pray just now, did she?
Of course, it might be nothing. Merely a casual, let’s-see-the-sights-together sort of thing. That was fine, right?
Right?
The silence lingered. Too long. And Mr. Grimm still hadn’t uttered an actual invitation. Luna swallowed, her throat uncomfortably tight. She should probably laugh it off, make an excuse, find some way to relieve the tension, and get out of there.
Instead, she found herself murmuring softly, “Yes, Mr. Grimm?”
He turned to her, blue eyes wide and searching. He’d gone quite pale, and his mouth was parted around some unspoken phrase. “Miss Talbot,” he managed at last, “I was wondering if perhaps you would like to—”
The shop bells rang.
Luna, startled, nearly sloshed the tea dregs. She turned to the door, heart jumping. Who just walked right into a shop when the sign was turned to CLOSED? Opening her mouth, she prepared to dismiss the impertinent customer with a stern word.
And stopped short.
Officer Ward.