Chapter Twenty-Six
Holding open Sal’s back door, Denne waved to the last of the departing staff, and then waited until the dishwasher made it to the final car in the parking lot and was safely on her way.
Shutting herself inside the restaurant, the silence closed in on her, an unsettling contrast to the usual noise and rushing bodies and barrage of scents and sizzles.
Instead of all kinds of peace resonating, she felt oppressed.
Walking into the kitchen, she smelled floor cleaner, bleach, and wet steel wool. An errant rag had been forgotten over by the dismantled and sanitized salad station so she headed across and picked up the damp cloth, stretching out the folds so the Sal’s logo wasn’t distorted.
Thanking Allhan once again in her head, she took the thing to the laundry room.
The closet-sized space was cramped, with the industrial washer and dryer taking up all the square footage but for the folding station.
She tossed the rag into an empty hamper, but thought better of it, draping the weight over the lattice sides so it didn’t mold.
Not that it would in what, six hours? Eight?
Whatever, what the hell was she doing.
Nothing. She was doing fucking nothing.
Wandering aimlessly out to the bar, she circled behind the counter to stride down Julianne’s stretch of real estate, noting that all the bottles were capped after having been measured, and the glassware was lined up fresh and sparkling, and the chilled containers, where the lemon and lime wedges were kept during service, were upside down in the squat stainless steel sink. Nothing was out of place.
The same was true with the booths in this VIP section, everything ready for tomorrow night.
Both dining rooms were good to go as well, the red leather seats pushed into the white-linen-covered tables, the pressed napkins arranged on the red and white Sal’s branded chargers, the old-fashioned votive candles freshened and prepared for lighting.
As she always did before she left, she tested the front door to make sure it was locked, and when she went by the host stand, she took a look at the reservations booked for the next night.
She loved the fact that everything was still on paper.
Part of it was that Marco’s uncle could barely answer a cell phone, much less work an app that organized the customers.
The other was that Sal’s as an enterprise was all about the way it used to be—
The click in the back of the restaurant traveled through the various rooms like a bird flushed and flying at her.
If she’d been a human, she never would have heard the quiet sound. But she wasn’t.
“Father?” she called out.
iAm was the only one who would come this late, after everybody else had left.
She knew he missed the place, and guessed that he was counting down the years, the decades, until he could return.
Funny, she hadn’t really thought about it before, but she envied him his interest and passion. She’d never had that in her life.
From out of nowhere, an image of Al’s face after she’d given him his first kiss took up all her mental bandwidth—
The memory disintegrated as a male she never expected to see at Sal’s emerged through the flap door.
And for a split second, she didn’t know how to reconcile the civilian image before her with what she had always known of t’On.
No ceremonial robes. No elaborate headdress.
Her mother’s Tretary was dressed in pressed black slacks, a fresh white button-down, and a smartly tailored black suit jacket.
He even had a jaunty gray and black handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket.
She had always been aware that he wasn’t ugly. Now she recognized him as… handsome. In a reserved kind of way.
“Hot date?” she drawled.
A flicker of distaste narrowed his eyes. “Of course not. With whom else would I ever…”
As t’On let that one go off into the rhetorical sunset, she flushed. “Oh. So this is for me.”
He unbuttoned the jacket. Rebuttoned it immediately thereafter, as if he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to fit or didn’t like the way the thing felt.
“I thought you might wish for me to present a more contemporary figure.”
Between one blink and the next, she thought of how great sweatshirts and jeans looked on a male.
“Perhaps you and I could go out to an eatery now, assuming we can find one that’s open.” He indicated the kitchen door he’d emerged from. “Or you could make me a repast of the Italian tradition?”
“I don’t cook.”
“Ah.” He inclined his head. “That leaves a human establishment, then.”
Denne crossed her arms over her chest and cursed those stupid stars. And the dumbass chart. And the whole tradition of her people that suggested anything could be predicted or should be determined by a celestial display that had been projected in Earth’s direction millions of years ago.
For fuck’s sake, half the twinkle-twinkles up there didn’t even exist anymore, right? Because it took that long for light to travel those interstellar distances. Yet here she was with this painfully awkward male in a suit he hated all because of the cosmos.
“t’On, you need to get real.” She shook her head. “You’d rather have scissors driven into your eyes than be anywhere near a human. Much less many of them, eating. That’s not your vibe, and it isn’t mine, either.”
His brows rose into his high, intelligent forehead. “You are correct, but I understand that a mating requires certain considerations for the other party. You enjoy your time herein so I assumed you found this environment… energizing in some fashion.”
“ ‘Enjoy’ is not a word I’d use.” She glanced around at the tables. “I don’t have much of an opinion about this place, actually. My father loves it. I love him. He can’t be here right now, so I come and make sure the trains run on time. It’s better than sitting around and doing nothing.”
t’On made a sound in the back of his throat and then idly wandered away to one of the booths. Picking up a water glass from a setting, he held it up to the light as if to inspect its cleanliness.
“So devoted a daughter you are.” He put the glass down, and clasped his hands behind the small of his back. “That is to be commended.”
“It’s just what you do.”
“Tell me something. Do you feel then the s’Hisbe is not as important as this commercial venture?
” His black eyes shot over his shoulder.
“Our traditions, your royal bloodline, the challenges faced nightly by the Territory, none of that is as significant to you as this place that serves food and kindles only diffidence in your heart?”
Denne narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“You do not have to. Your actions and priorities answer the question. Twenty-four hours after the sign and you’re still here. Working for the transitory, irrelevant pleasure of humans.”
“You know what, I think you need to go—”
“Do you know how I spent the day?” His long, dark hands steepled in front of his sternum as he turned back to her. “We had another visit from the humans who seek to destroy us.”
“Oh, come on.” Denne cursed under her breath. “Will you stop being so dramatic? Those paper pushers talking about taxes and religious exceptions are nothing to worry about—”
“They brought a resolution of notice passed by their Metro Council. They are prepared to exercise eminent domain over our lands if we do not sell. I took care of the two men, but that is not going to solve the issue with the larger group. They will be back.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken with my parents?”
“To your mother, of course. Right away.”
“And?”
“That is for her to communicate to you. I am but an appointed servant, and in that capacity, I owe the one to whom I am indebted for my position ultimate discretion.”
Denne looked away. Looked back. t’On had always gotten on her nerves a little bit because he was so stiff and rule-bound, but his devotion to the s’Hisbe and her parents had never been in question. He was resolutely loyal, unfailingly protective, and forever giving his best.
Maybe it wasn’t so much that she was irritated by him, but that, as when it came to her father and this place, she envied the purpose he had.
“You are a good male,” she said with resignation.
Instantly, t’On’s posture eased, and she had the sense he was, for once, being honest instead of honorable: “I know you have no love for me, but there is mutual regard and the stars are never wrong. What they provide is the truth we can choose to embrace before it is forced down our throats by destiny. It does not matter that your heart is not with me in a romantic sense. The s’Hisbe is all that matters.
You and you alone have been chosen to define our future.
Few are anointed with such sway, and what you do next will reveal your character. ”
“There is no love between us,” she echoed. Unnecessarily.
“Not true. You love the s’Hisbe and so do I. That is where the love is.” He motioned around the restaurant. “Do you really wish to choose a present you have no ties to over the legacy of your blood- line?”
Denne rubbed her face and wondered why she had to be the one in this position.
After a moment, t’On bowed with the restrained dignity he had always shown. “I know I have made my decision and I shall be able to sleep during the day soundly for however long I live. Will you be able to do the same, I wonder.”
As he left, she wanted to throw something. Not at him. He was stuck in this mess just like she was.
God, she wished she’d never seen those two stars.
They were ruining her life.