Chapter 10 #2
“Good eye, my dear. It’s Flink, one of his early protégés,” Frapp announced proudly, then pointed to the next painting over. “But this is a genuine Pollock. I’ve always loved how sensual the blue splatters feel against the purple.”
As Jocelyn made appropriately impressed noises, I frowned at the painting, which looked exactly like something Jay had done when he was four years old. Was this considered art?
“And this one?” Jocelyn had eagerly pulled our host to the next frame. “Is this another Jackson Pollock?”
“Oh no, my dear, don’t be ridiculous. This is something my granddaughter made when she was four years old. She called it Stampy the Unicorn and the Fate of the World. I like the squiggles.” He grinned at her. “Hanging art on your wall should be about how it makes you feel, not the artist’s name.”
Jocelyn grinned back. “I like your ideas very much, Mr. Frapp, and I’d like to subscribe to your newsletter.”
He burst into laughter, reminded her to call him Augustus, and pulled her toward the center of the space—was that a genuine conversation pit?
I knew enough about architecture to know those things hadn’t been popular in fifty years, but the old geezer had his filled with large pillows and a low-to-the-ground table, set up for an Asian-style tea, complete with a steaming kettle.
As he showed Jocelyn how to sit cross-legged on the cushions, I stepped down into the pit—and immediately began to sneeze.
“Oh dear,” the old man sighed and waved toward a table along the wall with a gilded tissue box. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
“I don’t think so.” I grabbed some tissues anyhow. “I’ve never been before.”
“Well, my precious pootikins spends most of her time resting here—this is her pit, after all. She’s shy around strangers, but she’ll be joining us for tea, I’m certain of it.”
“You said you had more than one cat, Augustus?” Jocelyn asked politely, seeming at ease as she matched his lounging stance. “You said you had to walk the cats.”
“Oh yes, this is my other baby, Sir Mountbatten Remmington-Smythe, Esquire.”
With that, Frapp reached to one side and scooped up a small pile of black silk, which turned out to be a feline. Of course, it wasn’t clear it was a cat until the thing screeched, twisted, and bit Frapp on his wrist.
“Oh, naughty boy,” the old male scolded, draping the cat around his shoulders like a stole and reaching for a napkin to press against his scratched-up skin. “Monty is still new, he’s only been living with Melissa and I for a few months, and he’s getting used to sharing his space.”
Jocelyn nodded. “Melissa is your wife?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” the old man laughed. “I never married.”
“But you said you had a granddaughter—” Jocelyn began, just as a low growl sounded from behind her.
I’d spent almost two decades living in the human’s world, but I’d been born in a place where danger—including from wild animals—was very much a thing. That’s what my Kteer was for; it was the primitive part of me that was concerned with keeping me alive and making sure I could pass my genes on.
It was the reason I shot to my feet, my claws extending to stand over Jocelyn, protecting her from—from whatever that was.
“Oh, there she is now!” Frapp exclaimed. “Melissa, pootikins, come meet our guests. Jocelyn—it’s okay to call you Joceyln, right my dear?—Jocelyn is going to tell me why I’m making a mess of my family’s property.”
Jocelyn made a sound that might’ve been an objection, might’ve been fear…
because at that moment, a full-grown fucking tiger ghosted into the room.
The fact she was wearing a fancy bow over one ear and wore a collar studded with diamonds and twinkling bells did not detract from the fact she was a godsdamned tiger.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, turning my body to protect Jocelyn as the thing nonchalantly padded across the tile and climbed into the conversation pit. The black cat around Frapp’s neck lifted its head enough to hiss at the newcomer, who lowered herself to curl around Mr. Frapp’s back.
And Jocelyn began to giggle.
“Well, Brakkor.” She twisted to grin up at me. “If you weren’t allergic to cats before, Melissa is enough to change your mind.”
My glare was interrupted by another batch of sneezes, which killed my threatening vibe completely. I pulled out the tissues and sank down beside her, warily watching the felines, who gave no indication they cared about any of us.
With a practiced flourish, Frapp pulled his long sleeves back and reached for the steaming tea kettle. “Now, my dear, what did you and that delicious specimen of friend want to bitch at me about?”
Jocelyn’s scent turned embarrassed as she glanced at me, and I could tell she was going to start sputtering and being polite. So I slowly raised a sardonic brow, challenging her to say what she meant. When she frowned, I mouthed, “Asshole,” and her eyes widened.
Her lips curled upward on one side, and she turned back to the old male with a deep breath.
“Augustus, the Eastshore Lighthouse is incredibly important historically.”
“Oh, I know, love.” He pushed a tiny tea cup across the table to sit in front of her.
“Don’t drink that yet, it needs to steep.
” While he busied himself pouring one for me—who knew there was this much ceremony in tea?
—he continued. “My great-great-great-great grandfather—wait, was that four greats or five? It was supposed to be five. Jerathmial Frapp’s father owned the land the lighthouse was built on, and when he grew up, he became one of the first keepers.
It was his grandson who bought the land back, but we’ve always maintained it—it’s part of the contract with the state. ”
Jocelyn was shaking her head. “There are far more efficient ways of warning ships away—”
“It’s history, my dear,” he gasped, his hand fluttering near his chest as his tiger raised her head to glare—beneath that ridiculous bow—at us. “My family history!”
“Then you understand how important the foundation of the lighthouse is.” Jocelyn launched into an explanation of the building techniques and the lifestyles of the early keepers, to explain why burying the foundation with cement would cause harm.
It was the same lecture she gave me last night, and I could tell Frapp was impressed.
She finished with, “So you see, your current course of action could result in the irrevocable harm to generations of your family’s history, and Eastshore history in general. ”
Frapp’s bushy white brows had risen as he sipped at the teacup he’d cradled in his hand during her explanation, and now he glanced at me. “Her mind is just as attractive as the rest of her.”
I grinned in agreement. “She’s right about the erosion, too. You hired the company I work for in order to firm up the foundation, but the erosion isn’t going to stop. We can stabilize the base, but not the land. Eastshore Lighthouse will still fall into the ocean one day.”
Frapp hummed as he sipped his tea, then straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “So what do you propose I do instead?”
I tipped my head to one side, indicating Jocelyn. “Joss did her thesis work on Cape Cod, moving lighthouses. She has some thoughts.”
From there, it was just a matter of me propping myself against the pillows, sipping the strong tea, and occasionally sneezing into the tissues, while the two of them went back and forth, each becoming more excited. It was almost cute.
Augustus Frapp didn’t remind me of my grandfather in any way, but I could see how Jocelyn was taken with him. Maybe his nonpartisan flirting was part of his appeal?
“I agree with your recommendation, Jocelyn,” he finally said, “but it isn’t so easy. Moving a lighthouse requires a place to put it. I suppose I could clear a bit more land, move the light closer to the street, and have one of those towers erected in its place to warn ships…”
Jocelyn opened her mouth, but I surprised myself by interjecting, “Give it to the town.”
Both of them swung surprised looks my way, and I shrugged. “Eastshore goes nuts over shit like that—they’ll probably implement a Lighthouse Festival or something. You could charge admission for the upkeep, stick it in the middle of the historic district.”
She was staring at me, eyes wide, and when I shrugged again, she breathed, “That’s brilliant.
” With an excited smile, she swung back to Frapp.
“The Light is part of the town’s history as much as your family.
Brakkor’s solution would allow the town to celebrate the building, while you focus on preserving your family’s history—via the site—before the sea encroaches. ”
“And how, exactly, are you going to convince the town council to agree to such a thing, young lady?” Frapp’s eyes sparkled as he stroked the tiger’s head. “They don’t like to part with money.”
“Me?” Jocelyn glanced back and forth between me and Frapp. “I’m just here for the weekend. I need to get back home—”
“No you don’t.” I probably shouldn’t have interrupted, but I explained to the old male, “She lost her job this morning, and her car’s busted. She could be stuck on this island for a while.”
“Excellent!” Frapp then realized what he said and clicked his tongue as he waved dismissively.
“Being jobless is stressful—I imagine. I don’t believe I’ve ever had what you might call a job, but I understand the concept.
I’ll pay you a stipend, my dear, to take this to the town council.
They meet in two weeks—I’ll ensure you won’t starve between now and then. ”
Jocelyn’s mouth had dropped open, and she was staring, clearly shocked.
I leaned forward, plunked the teacup down on the table, and reached for her hand. “She agrees, Mr. Frapp. Two weeks to come up with an argument for the council. You planning on canceling the construction job in the meantime?”
“Oh, no, my delicious set of muscles, your responsibility will be even more exciting!” Frapp beamed. “You’ll have to rent a crane and research how in the name of our savior Dolly Parton one goes about moving a frikking lighthouse!”