CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Skye
A couple of hours later, I stash the cupcakes in the backroom of I Touch My Shelf and say a quick hello to Naomi before she teleports home to Faerie for the night. I find town meetings fun, but then again, I don’t have a hot orc husband waiting for me like she does.
Princess Buttercup also chooses to skip the meeting. “Boring.”
“How do you know?” I ask. “You’ve never been to one.”
“I know it won’t be better than this.” She races into the greenhouse, and the walking tulips, rolling pumpkins, and flying hearts immediately surround her in a whirl of chaotic fun.
“Play nice!” The protective spells Severin built into the structure will keep anyone from getting hurt, but she can still use the reminder.
I turn toward the end of Main Street. Town Hall stands right beside the library, a burgundy building topped with a clock tower, which is the only three-story structure in all of downtown.
I cross the lobby to enter the wood-paneled meeting room.
The folding chairs are already half full with a mixture of humans and fae, but no Luke.
The aunts wave from where they sit with friends, while I hurry to the refreshment table in the front, where Hannah’s spreading oatmeal chocolate chip cookies across a serving plate.
“Need any help?”
“I’m good.” She smiles. “Now that I get cookies from Cake My Day and coffee from Grounds for Celebration, setup is easy peasy.”
“Is it ready yet?” a grouchy voice says from behind us, announcing that Harold has arrived.
The wrinkles on his light face have settled into a permanent scowl, but his eyes are avid as he peers around us at the cookies—Pepperpot’s baking is so good even the town grump can’t find anything to complain about.
“All ready.” Hannah keeps her smile firmly in place, proving exactly how diplomatic she can be. I’m really fudging nice, and even I have trouble with Harold.
Sliding away before he can complain again that his fishing magazines are digital instead of print, I glance around the room.
Armored in a dark-pink velour tracksuit, Mrs. Greely sits on the front row, her fingers tapping at the overstuffed binder on her lap. As head of the Ferndale Falls Events Committee, there’s only one thing on her mind: the upcoming Valentine’s Day Dance.
A group of pixies perches all over one of the chairs, with Blue chatting to the human woman beside her. As always, I wonder what the town’s protection spell makes non-magical humans see when they look at the pixies—it probably combines the flock into a single “person.”
Pepperpot enters, and people across the room call hellos to the brownie baker. Bumbleboots trots along behind her, looking shy but determined as he slides into the chair beside hers.
I smile at the lovestruck look on his face—it seems his admiration extends beyond her baking abilities.
A troupe of gnomes cartwheels down the aisle. About the same height as brownies, they have light-green skin and bright-white hair topped with little caps of moss or mushrooms. They also refuse to walk anywhere, always tumbling about with all the energy of sugar-amped toddlers.
No, scratch that—they’ll walk for a good reason. Such as Ruby walking hand in hand down the aisle with Elowen, her wood nymph girlfriend. Their height difference is one of the biggest I’ve ever seen—one two feet tall, the other six feet—but they’re so in love, they clearly make it work.
I sigh. It seems the inside of my romance book isn’t the only place full of happy couples.
I make my way over to where the Witch Bitches have claimed what I’m beginning to think of as “our seats.”
I take the chair beside Autumn, Rune on her other side. Kayla sits down beside me, then grimaces and starts to rise. “Sorry, did you want this one for Luke?”
“No, stay.” I set a hand on her forearm. “I don’t even know if he’s coming.” And if he does, would he even want to sit with me? I crane my neck to try to find him.
More people hurry in, groups of humans intermixed with orcs from the pub and several shadow fae, all tall and angular and gorgeous like a group of models escaped a high-fashion show in NYC.
Their king strides into the room, all cheekbones and smoke tattoos and black leather.
Severin heads straight for Hannah, his knowing smirk softening into a real smile as she beams at him.
Shadow saunters in, his green eyes gleaming when he spots Kayla.
She whips her head around to face the front and slouches in her chair as if to disappear, but it’s impossible given her height, her purple hair, and her neon-green T-shirt with a video game controller floating above: I paused my game to be here. You’re welcome.
He slides into the seat behind her and leans forward to murmur, “Hello, Kayla. It’s lovely to see you this evening.” The words might be innocent, but his tone is laced with enough innuendo to melt panties.
Kayla’s only response is to shift the tiniest bit on the hard wooden seat.
The werepanther’s nostrils flare. He sits back in his chair, grinning like the cat who got the cream, which has got to be the most apt simile-metaphor ever.
Right as Hannah calls for the meeting to start, Luke stalks inside, his golden eyes intense as they scan the room.
The second he spots me, his wings lower a bit as if in relief.
A tiny firework goes off in the middle of my chest. That has to be a good sign, right?
I give him a little wave, half-hello, half-invitation.
But he doesn’t join me, just crosses his arms and leans a shoulder against the side wall at the back.
The firework sputters out, a sparkler hit by a blast of rain. I’m as confused as ever.
I don’t get to wallow for long. As soon as Hannah finishes with the regular announcements, Harold yells, “Someone needs to do something about the hedgehogs! It’s not right!”
Kayla leans over to mutter, “Hedgehogs?”
“That’s what the rolling pumpkins look like to anyone non-magical,” I whisper.
“Oh, right.”
“What’s wrong with the hedgehogs?” Hannah asks.
“They’re not native to North America. They’re an invasive species!” He throws an arm wide and flaps it up and down, almost smacking Thorvinn in the face. The orc growls, but Harold soldiers on, oblivious to anything but his own outrage. “They’re going to disrupt the entire ecosystem.”
I pull out my new phone and start searching. I’m certain I’ve read something that means Harold’s wrong, but I can’t remember exactly what.
“You’re incorrect,” a deep voice booms from the back of the room, snapping with cool authority. Luke pushes off the wall to stand upright. “Invasive species tend to become problematic when they’re a predator that native animals have no defenses against. Hedgehogs aren’t predators.”
“But… but…” Harold flaps his arm again.
“Luke’s right,” I call out. His words sparked my memory of the book I read about weasels impacting the bird population in New Zealand.
“Hedgehogs are insectivores, but they’re not any better at catching bugs than the moles that are already here.
Our local beetle and grub populations are safe.
” Especially since the rolling pumpkins aren’t actually animals and live on magic.
“Wonderful,” Hannah says. “Now, if we can move on to the next agenda i—”
“There’s only one thing we need to talk about this week.
Finalizing the preparations for the Valentine’s Day Dance.
” Mrs. Greely stomps her cane against the wooden floor and stands.
She lists a long string of barked instructions, like a drill sergeant calling troops to order.
Jared will DJ, and Old Joe will take tickets at the door.
“Skye, you’re in charge of the decorations again this year. ”
“Yep!” I nod.
“It wasn’t a question.”
Alrighty then. I bite my lip to keep from laughing as Autumn’s elbow digs into my ribs. She dealt with the full force of Mrs. Greely in event-planning mode last October for the town’s fall festival, so my bestie knows firsthand exactly how scary the elderly lady can get.
“You will use only items from the approved list.” She peers at me. “I mailed it to you last week.”
Oops. Going to have to check in with Rosie at the post office.
My mail’s on hold while I stay at Luke’s, and I haven’t bothered to check, since I do all my bills online.
Not that I need to see the list. It hasn’t changed in the four years I’ve decorated for the dance, so it’s burned into my brain.
I can use pink and red. I can use hearts and cherubs as long as their naughty bits are covered.
That’s it—that’s the entire list. Why Mrs. Greely thinks she needs to send it to me year after year I’ll never know.
She moves on, barking out the refreshment assignment for Luigi.
“Actually, I won’t be doing the refreshments this year.
” He stands and pulls off his flat cap, exposing a bald spot surrounded by gray hair.
Luigi’s wrinkled tan face looks unusually solemn for a man who’s usually all smiles.
“As many of you know, I’m getting ready to retire.
And with so many new restaurants and cafés in town, you’ll all be well looked after. ”
A murmur sweeps across the room, both happy and sad. Luigi’s has been something of an institution—the only restaurant to survive Ferndale Falls’s decline. But we also all love Luigi and want him to have the retirement he’s always dreamed of.
“I’ve arranged for Cake My Day and Grounds for Celebration to take over the refreshments.” With a sharp nod, he sits down.
Mrs. Greely stands frozen, so much tension rolling off her velour-clad body I almost expect her to start shooting fire like a dragon.
“Snickerdoodle,” I breathe out, waiting for her to explode. One, Luigi changed who’s catering, and two, he did it without asking Mrs. Greely’s permission. That’s the two things she hates most rolled into one bad-news package.
In full-mayor mode, Hannah breaks the silence.
“Thank you, Luigi. We’re going to miss you, but we also wish you all the best. As anyone who just had the cookies and coffee knows”—she waves toward the refreshment table and gives Mrs. Greely a knowing glance— “Cake My Day and Grounds for Celebration make excellent products. The Ferndale Falls Valentine’s Day Dance couldn’t be in better hands. ”
“Can we still have tiramisu and espresso?” someone calls out from the back.
Pepperpot nods, and Devina says, “I’ll make sure I use the espresso beans Luigi recommends.”
Mrs. Greely remains silent for several long moments as the tension ratchets higher, like a teakettle reaching boil, ready to shriek. When she explodes, it’s in the fudging last direction I expect.
“You, you, and you,” she snaps, jabbing her cane toward Rune, Shadow, and Luke, “are on setup and knockdown.”
Rune and Shadow nod, but Luke comes off the wall, his wings lifting. “I didn’t volunteer.”
“I don’t care.” She thumps her cane against the floor.
Luke’s gaze swings toward me, something unfathomable flickering in his eyes. I’ve gotten so good at reading his grumpy faces that it’s uncomfortable to feel so uncertain about what he’s thinking today. His wings settle on his back, and he doesn’t protest again.
My mouth drops open as shock jitters through me.
I expected him to refuse, to storm out of the meeting, muttering about being superior.
He’s made it very clear he wants nothing to do with the Valentine’s Day Dance…
or dancing or Valentine’s, for that matter.
Take your pick—there’s a laundry list of things he’s guaranteed to hate about the event.
“Humph. That’s more like it.” Mrs. Greely gives a sharp nod and shuffles toward the door.
Leaving me gaping at Luke, a tiny sparkler of hope flickering in my heart.