Chapter 11 #2
The seller handed over their cakes, wrapped in paper, then, with a wink, told her to “Wait up!” Luna paused, half-turning back, and he leaned over to sprinkle a veritable blizzard of extra powdered sugar on top.
Luna flushed at this unexpected preference, even if it stemmed from a potbellied, hairy little man, old enough to be her grandfather.
She smiled and moved away from the vendor, wondering how much powdered sugar would end up on her upper lip and nose.
Bryony had disappeared during that short interval. Making room for other customers, Luna shaded her eyes as she searched for her roommate. Had she already absconded with a dock worker, leaving Luna to her own devices? No, surely—
A hooded figure darted behind a hot dog vendor.
Luna’s heart stopped.
All the sounds and smells and stimulation of the busy fairground faded away, lost in the sudden coldness flooding her veins.
Though she waited for what felt like an age, the figure did not reappear. It seemed to have vanished into thin air. Behind the hot dogs.
“Green Mother save me,” Luna whispered softly, as her heart thudded back into motion.
Had they caught up with her already? She’d thought she’d glimpsed one a few weeks back, that night she and Mr. Grimm walked up to Northside Ballycastle in pursuit of a rogue tiger lily.
But when no further sightings had been forthcoming, she’d convinced herself it was just her imagination.
After two years she was, perhaps, a bit paranoid.
Maybe she’d invented it now as well. In the crowd, the noise, the merry mayhem, it was easy to let one’s brain get a bit turned about.
And she’d not yet eaten today . . . and the smell of funnel cake was getting into her head .
. . and . . . She turned sharply on heel, took two quick steps in flight, her head still craning over her shoulder.
Only to slam into someone.
Cake-first.
Her head whipped about, and she stared in horror at the sight of powdered sugar and fried batter spread across a neat, brown waistcoat. Her gaze slowly rose.
And met a pair of sad blue eyes.
“Oh!” Her voice burst from her throat in a choking gasp. “Mr. Grimm!”
He stood before her, plain as day. Clad in his suit, cufflinks, and a brown felt hat. The last person she expected to meet out here. At first, she couldn’t quite make herself believe the evidence of her eyes.
Then a furious blush flooded her cheeks. “Oh, Green Mother above, what have I done to you?”
“What indeed?” he answered softly. Was that a chuckle she heard, rumbling in his chest?
Her blush deepened. “I’m ever so sorry!” she gasped and reached out to brush powdered sugar from his front. “I didn’t see you there!”
“Well, that’s a relief. I should hate to think you launched a full-frontal funnel cake assault on purpose.”
Luna paused in the middle of plucking a piece of fried batter from his waistcoat, her gaze sliding up to meet his.
Then she laughed. A little startled, gulp of sound, which she tried very hard to stifle, but couldn’t.
It simply burst out of her, quite silly and perfectly girlish, and her ears burned.
But Mr. Grimm’s face smoothed into a small smile of his own.
One of those rare smiles, which never quite relieved the haunted shadows in his eyes.
Not even now, as he brushed ineffectually at powdered sugar smears.
“Come on,” Luna said, beckoning. “They’ve got napkins at the vendor’s.”
“I hope you’ll let me buy you another cake, Miss Talbot.”
Bryony’s voice popped suddenly into her head: “Trust me, Lunaloo. Buy one of these now, you’ll not pay a penny for anything else the rest of the day.
” As though Luna wasn’t already flushing badly enough!
She shook her head and assumed what she hoped passed for a casual demeanor.
“Oh, no need, Mr. Grimm. It was my fault entirely for splattering this one all over you.”
He waved a hand politely, indicating the back of the funnel cake line. “It would be my pleasure,” he insisted.
Luna didn’t have much choice but to join him. She cast a last look over her shoulder at the hot dog stand, but there was no sign of any shadowy, hooded figures. She must have imagined it. For the moment, that’s what she’d tell herself, anyway.
She turned to Mr. Grimm, determined to shake off any creeping sensations down her spine. “What about the shop? Will it be all right?”
“That I can’t tell you,” he replied solemnly. “I’m afraid there was quite an angry mob queuing up on the sidewalk when I escaped out the alley.”
“Oh, dear. Pitchforks and torches, I trust?”
“Naturally. I barely made it out with the skin on my back.”
Luna smirked at the mental picture of Mr. Grimm fleeing out the kitchen door with a pack of Silly Young Things on his heels, all demanding tea. “I suppose they’ll be met with some resistance when they break through the glass,” she mused.
“The tiger lilies will give them what for.”
“I put my money on the double-delight. She’s pretty, but she’s fierce!”
“Don’t I know it.” He grimaced. “No doubt we’ll be down by a few regular customers by day’s end.”
“One must hope The Arcane Bouquet can weather the loss.”
“One must hope, Miss Talbot.”
A ball of warmth knotted under Luna’s sternum.
She had grown so used to Mr. Grimm and his deadpan humor over the last few weeks, it was somehow natural, comfortable, to be back in his presence, even in the midst of the Saint Jollify noise.
Some of the clamor and mayhem surrounding her faded, and she felt an oddly peaceful sense of just-the-two-of-them that she couldn’t quite define.
Like the coziness they knew in the nook behind the counter carried with them wherever they went, so long as they were in proximity to one another.
They had progressed nearly to the front of the line when Bryony made her reappearance, dragging her dock worker along by the suspenders.
At sight of Luna standing in line with Mr. Grimm, one carefully-plucked eyebrow rose up her forehead.
She took the measure of Mr. Grimm—lingering a moment on the smeared powdered sugar on his front—lingering longer on his otherwise well-groomed appearance, his polished shoes, the square set of his shoulders, his refined facial features.
Luna watched admiration spark in her roommate’s eyes.
She dropped her hold on the dock worker’s suspenders and advanced with a certain bounce.
“Well, now, Lunaloo! You’ve found yourself a tasty one, haven’t you?”
Luna felt as though her ears were set on fire. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Mr. Grimm, but hastily said, “Oh, Bryony! This is my boss. Mr. Nigel Grimm.”
“Oooh, your boss, is it?” Bryony’s red fingernails glittered in the late-morning sun as she extended a hand. “Bryony Braithwait,” she said, smiling broadly.
Mr. Grimm accepted her hand and bowed slightly over it. “Charmed.”
Bryony nearly dropped her teeth at this display of gallantry.
She waved her other hand behind her back, shooing off the dock worker, who looked mildly perturbed but not particularly crushed.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered off, while Bryony took her place beside Mr. Grimm in line, though she still held more than half of her funnel cake.
It occurred to Luna suddenly that her roommate’s hair was red.
Not a natural shade—more of a crimson, verging on magenta—but definitely in the red zone.
Not to mention thick, curly, and bouncing along her shoulders, and while Luna was ninety-nine percent certain Bryony was not the redhead she’d glimpsed in that tea-mug vision all those weeks ago . . . there lingered a one percent doubt.
“So, what are you doing here, Mr. Grimm, hmm?” Bryony asked. “Come to steal sweet Luna back to the old grindstone?” She took a lingering bite from her funnel cake. Until that moment, Luna hadn’t realized it was possible to make fried batter and powdered sugar so provocative.
“Not at all,” Mr. Grimm answered rather blandly. “I hope Miss Talbot will spend a very enjoyable day.”
“And will you be enjoying that day along with us?” Bryony asked archly.
Luna’s hackles rose at the us. Just that moment, however, the vendor beckoned, and Mr. Grimm stepped forward to place an order for two funnel cakes. “And extra napkins,” he added with a rueful glance Luna’s way.
Luna stepped a little closer to Bryony, intending to speak a word, only .
. . only she wasn’t entirely certain what that word ought to be.
Before she could make up her mind, Bryony tucked her arm through Luna’s elbow, leaned in close, and whispered, “Sly girl, you never mentioned your boss was so cute.”
“Oh, didn’t I? I . . . hadn’t really noticed.”
“I do so love me a posh older fellow!” Bryony continued, eying Mr. Grimm’s figure from behind. “They get real interesting behind closed doors, once you get ‘em out of that waistcoat and cufflinks. Mmmm!”
Luna’s mouth dropped open. A bundle of words leapt to her tongue, but they all sounded too exactly like something Auntie Aurora would say.
Maybe Auntie Arabella had something pertinent buried deep in one of her trashy novels that might help, but .
. . what? What was a girl supposed to say when her roommate spoke so overtly about undressing her employer?
While said employer was only two steps away and buying funnel cake, and—
“Well, well, well, what have we here?”
“Green Mother!” Luna hissed. She turned swiftly in a swish of cherry-print skirts, and lifted her gaze.
Then lifted it a little more. Up to the green-eyed smile of Officer Ward.
He loomed over her, not in uniform, for once, but wearing a nice shirt and light jacket combo.
No hat—his black curl was allowed to bob freely across his forehead, giving him a very young, fresh-faced sort of look.
No tie either, and the collar was unbuttoned to reveal a tasteful V of manly chest hair.
His smile focused with great intensity on Luna.
“I hoped I’d meet you somewhere hereabouts,” he said pleasantly, his hands in his pockets, his stance both casual and cool. “Are you having a good time with your roommate?”
“Oh, yes. My roommate. Um.” Luna turned and twined her arm through Bryony’s elbow, drawing her close. Bryony was more than happy to be drawn, her overt stare taking in Ward and his magnificent proportions with evident pleasure. “This is her. She. Bryony, um, meet Officer Ward.”
“Just Ward, please,” he said politely and touched his forehead as though tipping a cap.
“So you’re the fellow Luna can’t stop going on and on about!” Bryony declared, giving herself a little jiggle, just to be certain all her assets were working properly.
But Ward’s gaze couldn’t be drawn away. He turned to Luna again, his smile broadening. “Am I?”
“Bryony!” Luna hissed, wishing simultaneously to push her roommate violently away from her and cling to her like a lifetime.
“What?” Bryony blinked innocently before giving Ward another once-over. “Can’t say that I blame her!”
In that moment, Luna became acutely aware of Mr. Grimm’s approach, two funnel cakes in hand.
Did he hear that bit? About her going on and on about Officer Ward?
Oh gods, and she’d told him quite plainly that she wasn’t seeing the fair with the wardsman, and .
. . and . . . what must he think of her now?
A big fat liar, she thought, her stomach churning. That’s what he thinks of you.
But she turned to Mr. Grimm and murmured a demure “thank you,” as she accepted the funnel cake he offered.
She was positioned halfway between him and Ward, and was suddenly overwhelmed with the strangest feeling that she stood at some sort of a crossroads.
Only she had no idea what she was supposed to do about it.
“Um, you know Officer Ward, don’t you Mr. Grimm? ”
“Just Ward,” the wardsman said again. “And yes, we’ve met a few times now. Looks good,” he added, eyeing the funnel cake in Mr. Grimm’s hand.
Mr. Grimm said nothing. His face was very still, save for his eyes, which moved from Ward to Luna and back again.
“Well!” Bryony said brightly, peeling herself from Luna’s grasp. She slipped to Mr. Grimm’s side and tucked her hand under his arm. “What do you gents say to us all having a bit of fun today?”
“I’m game,” Ward says, smiling down at Luna.
Luna found her voice with some difficulty. “Yes,” she managed, her lips curling in the way she seemed to remember smiles working. “Fun.”
And she took a too-large bite of funnel cake and coughed on the puff of powdered sugar which shot to the back of her throat.