Chapter 4
DERYN, UNFORTUNATE NAMES & FAMILY
CROW’S NEST IN DEMAND!
Mayoral candidate Paloma Allende was seen surveying several properties under the Viridescent Cliff with the town architect.
Is Ms. Allende looking to expand her hospitality empire?
Land in Crow’s Nest is already a commodity that cannot be spent willy-nilly.
As the town wonders what else might be built, John Moss, according to many reports, made an offer to Rhiannon Crowhart for the burned-down former Atelier.
Our sources report that the restorer and auctioneer refused his inquiries and intends to fully restore the town’s jewel of historical architecture and re-open the antique bookstore, now to carry the name of Crow, Cat, & Possum.
Additionally, rumor has it that the youngest Crowhart, the heartthrob and internationally acclaimed pastry chef Deryn, is looking to make her stay in Crow’s Nest an extended one. Will we see a new bakery open on the island? Dragons could surely use more cupcakes, as do my cravings.
Watch this space and watch the Nest’s real estate market.
—Crow’s Caw
“How does this rag know anything about your plans? Or my plans? And why are none of us mad that they are invading our privacy this way?” Rhiannon popped what looked like a stuffed fig into her mouth and batted away Deryn’s attempt to steal one off her plate. “Get your own, pip-squeak.”
“I don’t know how they know, and I can’t get my own. Victoria is upset with me.”
Right on cue, the oldest Crowhart waltzed into the quiet kitchen carrying a stack of towels. She stopped by the table and looked Deryn dead in the eye.
“Khalid is afraid of you, which means you might as well not exist for me. And Deryn isn’t mad at the Caw, Rhiannon, because—”
“They called her a heartthrob!” her sister and aunt finished in unison.
Deryn shrugged. “I liked that part.”
With Rhiannon distracted by Victoria, Deryn managed to sneak a fig off her plate. She moaned when the chewy goodness hit her taste buds. “Amazing, simply amazing.”
“Don’t you try and suck up to me, girl. You’re in enough trouble already.
You and your fancy-ass recipes! How much espresso did you need to make for that latest ‘content experiment’ of yours?
Julie Anbrews was on the ropes for a week!
I had to have the repairman come in to take a look at her.
You have no respect for vintage machinery.
Not to mention that ham.” Victoria raised her voice. Rhiannon perked up.
“You named your espresso machine Julie Anbrews, Victoria? Of course you did. That’s so you. And what ham?”
Deryn winced and lowered her face into her palms. Victoria did not spare her as she lectured.
“Do you know why my kitchen is now completely off-limits to your sister and her baking?”
Deryn winced again because suddenly Victoria was too close, and was that a wooden spoon in her hand? Did she need to gesticulate this wildly? It had been an honest mistake…
“I had ham planned for the tasting menu. A new recipe I was working on. Two fifteen-pound hams were delivered, and Deryn here signed for them. Do you want to tell Rhiannon what else you did with those hams, Ms. Heartthrob?”
Deryn winced a third time and spoke without lifting her face from her hands. It came out muffled, and she didn’t care. She had faced Victoria’s wrath too many times as a kid not to know what was coming if she didn’t confess.
“I swaddled them in kitchen towels, named them Hamuel and Hamantha, and took selfies with them.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I might’ve posted the selfies?”
“Deryn Lyn Crowhart!” Victoria’s shout was lost in Rhiannon’s roar of laughter.
“At least you didn’t stick peppermint toothpicks into them as you did as a kid when we tried to decorate the ham with pineapple slices.
” Rhiannon was laughing so hard, Deryn wondered if she’d start crying any moment now.
And why did she have to bring up that toothpaste-tasting Christmas ham? She was ten, let it go!
Victoria clearly shared her thoughts, because she waved her hands at Rhiannon to try to stop her.
“It’s not funny, Rhiannon. I had to scrap the whole ham thing, change the menus themselves, and pay for new advertisements for the tasting program.
With fish on it. Because this one here has a gazillion followers who all saw the damn Hamantha and Hamuel posts from the Tavern, because of course she tagged it—”
“I thought some advertising would be good?” Deryn peeked out from between her fingers before promptly closing her eyes as Victoria whirled on her.
“Is food safety at my place of business a joke to you?” The note of seriousness broke through, and Deryn’s embarrassment turned inward. She’d fucked up. Again. The family’s famous fuckup in all her usual glory.
Damn it.
Victoria dropped the spoon in the sink. It clattered loudly in the silence of the kitchen. Deryn’s heart thumped in her throat.
“I need you to find a different place for your social media shenanigans, Deryn. I mean it. I understand the demand to keep your ‘content’ flowing, that it’s your bread and butter and caviar.
But if you’re staying, as the Caw seems to think, you will need to bake somewhere else.
Khalid is skittish around you, and I’d rather not have my customers think that we play with their food before we cook it. ”
Rhiannon pushed the plate of figs closer to Deryn.
“Okay, okay, this is legitimately hilarious, and not for a second do I believe this will hurt the Tavern. Your reputation is ironclad, and you are on your way to adding to your Michelin star. You know it, I know it. Maybe Deryn doesn’t know it, since Heartthrob here lives in her own world, but…
” Rhiannon gave Deryn a pat on the thigh to take the sting out of her words.
The sting was still stinging, however, as Deryn listened to her sister continue.
“Why don’t you have electronic menus yet?
It’s all the rage. You’d have saved a lot of money and a lot of trees, Victoria. ”
Victoria cocked a hip and sneered at Rhiannon.
“Listen here, Miss I-Restore-Old-Ass-Things-For-A-Living-Yet-Have-No-Respect-For-Them, I am an old person who loves old-people things. Paper menus are one of them. They will bury me in a coffin made of paper menus, you hear me? You will be there in all black—which will not be a departure for you—and you will wipe your tears on a paper menu.” Victoria’s sneer widened frighteningly.
Deryn cringed. Victoria went on. “Other old-people things I enjoy are fucking drivers not leaving their headlights on bright, not speaking to a machine when I call customer service, and not having to download damn apps every time I buy a damn product. My fridge and my walk-in freezer don’t need an app! ”
Rhiannon gave her aunt an unblinking stare.
“I sense I hit a nerve?”
Victoria threw her hands in the air.
“I am all nerve, Rhiannon Elizabeth! Leave my paper menus alone and find Deryn a new kitchen before I use that spoon for righteous purposes!”
Deryn watched the back-and-forth between her sister and her aunt as if it were the Wimbledon final. Rhiannon clearly knew when to stop flying too close to the sun, so she shrugged, popped another fig in her mouth and finally turned to Deryn. Her gaze was tender.
“Crow, Cat, & Possum is under reconstruction, and the most generous estimates are closer to ten months till it will be available for anything, let alone have a working kitchen. Plus, baby sister, I imagine you’d need something a lot more professional than what it had to offer even before the fire.”
Deryn lifted her face fully and laid a hand on Rhiannon’s forearm. The magic spiked, flowing freely from one to another. It was a miracle in itself, not just the magic of it, but the outcome of Rhiannon’s self-imposed decades of starving her power.
“I’m glad you’re back.”
Deryn did not realize she had spoken out loud.
Rhiannon’s eyes filled with tears, and Victoria’s uncharacteristically tactful silence told her as much.
Deryn coughed, popped a fig in her mouth, and desperately looked around for a change in subject.
Rhiannon cleared her throat as well, the awkward moment stretching, the kitchen becoming stifling.
As Deryn was about to jump out of her skin and out of her chair, the door banged open, and she could swear everyone in the room exhaled.
“Did someone die? I know we’re all anticipating it with my forty-fifth birthday just around the corner, but surely it’s a bit early for a wake?”
Ceridwen was a picture of serenity and mischief, and yet the joke didn’t land for Deryn. Instead, it scraped her raw, abrading the already exposed nerve endings.
Rhiannon’s head shake didn’t help. It was Victoria who finally stepped up and, as usual, stepped in it.
“We will not be waking you in my kitchen anyway, believe you me, Ceridwen. The whole Crow’s Nest will want to come bid farewell to you, since you are a veritable Pollyanna, and I will not have all those people trample through here.
I might already be in trouble with food inspectors because this one here decided that the circus was in town and it was time to play clown. ”
Ceridwen’s snort was both entirely out of character and exactly what Deryn needed. Her sister’s normally stern and serious eyes were anything but.
“I take it Hamuel and Hamantha were not warmly received?” Ceridwen bit her lip, and Deryn desperately tried to maintain a straight face. Victoria threw her hands in the air.
“Ceridwen Abigail Crowhart, I expected better of you! And on the matter of expectations, are you here about the damn bush?”
Rhiannon set her elbow on the table and propped her cheek on her hand.
“I am almost certain I will regret asking, but what bush, or perhaps whose bush?”
Ceridwen did not manage to answer as Victoria was clearly on a roll.