6. Lyric
SIX
LYRIC
“You got something you want to tell me, Lyric?”
I sighed. “Do we have to get into this?”
“Obviously, we do. And you know I’d rather rip out my own tongue than talk about feelings.”
I laughed. “Dahlia has something to do with this, doesn’t she?”
“What? Hell, no. I just have eyes and even my thick skull can see there’s something going on between you two.”
“There’s nothing going on.”
Nolan grunted. “Then what’s your beef with Jensen?”
“I have no problems with him. He was an exemplary worker.”
Hell, even I could hear the stuck-up bitch in my tone.
He arched a brow. “Don’t give me that bullshit. What’s the real problem?”
“Look, it’s just a lot after the fire, all right?”
Nolan frowned at me. “Okay.” Then his frown cleared as if something clicked into place. “Okay.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugged. “I get what trauma can do to you. I didn’t touch my blow torch for a damn long time after my accident. Dahlia made me face a lot of crap I didn’t want to, and I made her life hell. If he brings back too many shitty memories or activates your PTSD, then that’s enough for me.”
“Who said I have PTSD?”
“Those black shadows under your damn eyes. Maybe this whole thing is too much too fast.”
“No!” I swallowed down the nerves and the quick flash of panic. “I love this place, and the new space is really helping me. I promise. Seeing him is harder than I expected.” It killed me to admit it, but that was the truth of it.
“Then we skip it.”
I sighed. I was tempted to let him brush it all away like snow on a windshield. But I knew that wasn’t what I needed, either. I couldn’t keep hiding just because it was uncomfortable.
“I appreciate that you’d let me do that.”
“But...”
“Jensen told me to ask you about his work. I know he’s an artist. We’d talk about it sometimes when he worked here.” I’d made sure not to ask too many questions. I didn’t want to be any more interested in him.
“That’s another thing. Why isn’t he working here anymore? Did you fire him?”
“Not exactly.” I stared at the toes of my boots. “I just didn’t give him hours.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it’s my job to run this place. Not come to you about my problems.”
“Lyric, I don’t have many friends, but I’d say you were one of them. You come to me if you’ve got shit going on. Period.”
“I will. I promise. And honestly, is he good?”
“He’s good. Exceptional, actually.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen a few times before he passed me the phone. “I commissioned him to do something for Dahlia.” Two flags of red stained his cheeks as he nodded for me to take it.
I peered at the screen and my breath caught. I knew Nolan had a lot of scars from his accident, but his clothing covered the majority of them save for a bit on his face and neck. But seeing them all on display in the painting dragged me into the work as if I was standing right beside them on the beach.
It had a slightly romantic bent to it with him holding Dahlia in front of him, a foamy dress floated on the wind I could practically feel off the water.
The painting matched the gothic flavor of Nolan and Dahlia’s house in every way and was so intricate it could have been a photograph.
He took his phone back and tucked it away. “Yeah. He’s talented as hell. I’m going to commission him to paint the house when it’s done—if it’s ever done. Feels like I’m always waiting on something.”
“I can guarantee the house itself wasn’t built fast either.”
He grunted. “Like Hellcat keeps telling me.”
“Nova said you have a new piece for Trick or Treat.”
“Think I’m just going to let you change the subject?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “Fine. You can think about the Jensen thing.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded toward the door. “I’ll go get it.”
“Do you need Marshall to help?”
“Yeah, maybe. It’s a big bitch.”
We both left the new space and headed back to the store. Marshall had finished filling Frankenstein and was helping a customer.
I crossed to him and smiled at the woman with a basket overflowing with treats. “Marshall, can you help Nolan? I’ll take over here.”
“Sure, Lyric.”
“Finding everything you need?”
The woman was tall and striking. Her wild hair had a small, intricate braid that flashed with silver over her shoulder.
She glanced down at it. “My husband is a Viking. For real.” She laughed as she toyed with the silver bead. Another one slipped from her curls to lightly clink against the other. “It’s actually his birthday soon and he’s got a bougie palate.”
“Chocolate? Or looking for something else?”
“He is a chocolate guy. He’s the head cider master at Brothers Three Orchard.”
“Oh, Firefly is a staple in my fridge when my sister and I aren’t in the mood for wine.”
A soft smile slid across her face. “Firefly has a special place in my heart.” She held her hand out to me. “Kira.”
“Lyric.”
“This place is really cool. I know it’s probably a weird ask, but do you have anything spicy?”
“Like Red Hots or chocolate spicy?”
“Oh, chocolate spicy. But not too spicy. He can’t handle my heat sometimes.”
I laughed and led her over to the coffin.
Kira gave a delighted cackle and rushed forward. “This is amazing.”
“Nolan outdid himself with this one.”
She whirled around. “Someone made this?” She smoothed one hand along the edge of the coffin. “It’s metal. I thought it was wood.”
“Yeah, everything in here is made by an artist. Nolan Devereaux owns this place. We’re expanding into other artists too. You said your husband creates the cider, right?”
“Yes, I actually run the taproom in between my crazy duties as mom to twin terrors.”
“Twins?” I gasped.
“Yeah, most have the same reaction. Well, except my husband. He’s besotted and they both have him completely wrapped.” She unearthed her phone from the fluffy purple depths of her jacket. “There’s my brood.”
The man was attractive in an earthy way with intricate braids that attempted to wrangle wild curls. He had a huge grin on his face as he was squished between two little girls with equally wild curls.
“Well, we’ve added on a new expansion, and we’d like to highlight local artisans.”
Instantly, Kira’s eyes took on a shrewd bent. “Is that right?”
“We are putting together offer packets for local businesses. We will have a summer and autumn monthly bazaar-style setup as well as longer placement contracted stalls inside. Maybe Brothers Three would be interested in one of our spaces?”
“We like working with local places and artists, as well. We use the Taproom to sell paintings as well as a schedule of visiting chefs.”
“I haven’t been able to get out there since your busy time is my busy time, but I’d love to come out and check it out.”
“You’re definitely welcome.” Kira flipped her phone to where a small wallet was fastened to the back and she slipped out a card, handing it to me. “I’d love to talk about your indoor stalls. I saw a bit of the space through the window when I parked. It looks amazing.”
“Thanks. We worked hard on this place.”
“Right, there was a fire, wasn’t there?”
I swallowed hard. “There was.” I cleared my throat at the tickle that always showed up when I talked about it. “There was a lot of structural damage, so we worked with a local architect to rebuild.”
“Oh, God. That’s right. Kain worked on this, didn’t he? He’s been all over The Cove and Kensington Square lately.”
“You know Kain?”
She snickered. “He’s my chef.”
My eyebrows shot up. I pictured the large Hawaiian man with the well-worn Carhartt uniform and ripped T-shirts from the chaotic building days. I hadn’t been as involved in the build, thanks to all my surgeries, but I’d met him quite a few times to get the blueprints settled on the rebuild.
Nothing about him said chef.
Then again, he didn’t exactly look like a suited-up architect either.
“I know. Long story. Needless to say, Kainoa N’ai gets around. I should have recognized his work. He built my house.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, he’s intense. And crazy talented.”
“Between him and Nolan, this place really came together.” I glanced around at just how far we’d come in a year. “I used to work in a gallery in San Francisco and I loved working with all sorts of artists. Now that Nolan has me wrapped up in candy, I have found a world of food too. I think it’s perfect for the tourists that come around for everything fall with the orchards and, of course, the summers at the lake.”
Kira nodded. “Definitely. And we’re expanding at the orchard, as well. We are gearing up for small batch moonshine and Laverne’s pet apple wine project. I think it would be a great way to horn in on the Crescent Cove pockets.”
“Perfect.” I laughed and glanced down at the card. A glossy raised logo of a barn owl accented the matte black card with the names Kira and Ronan Parrish with their respective titles, email, and phone numbers as well as website. I’d do some research this evening to see what they were really about. “Handily, I can help you spend a little more in here first.”
I tucked the card away and opened one of the drawers in the coffin where we kept the chili pepper chocolate bark. I pulled out the dark and milk versions and handed them to Kira.
“Oh, that looks amazing. Now I want this on my nightly ice cream.”
“Bet that would be awesome with a vanilla bean ice cream.”
Kira groaned. “Yes. Especially this week. I have wrecking ball twins who decided sleep was optional, and my monthly showed up with an extra one-two punch.”
“Two cartons of ice cream are in order then.”
She laughed. “Damn right.” Kira added the chocolate to the basket hanging on her arm. It was matte black metal with our logo on the side and she’d chosen the bat one.
I was pleased to see the basket was more than full.
“Want me to bring you to checkout or do you want to look around more?”
“I think I spent enough. And I really want to try this chocolate. Can I have a few more bars?”
“You sure can.” I backtracked to the coffin again and pulled out two more of each. And our Mexican hot chocolate packets. “You can try one of these on me.” I pulled out a silver pen from my pocket and marked it for inventory.
“Oh, you know the way to my heart.”
I laughed. “I hope you’ll be back.”
“I definitely will.”
We chatted a bit about the joys of working with the public on our way up to the registers. Nova was her usual bubbly self, and I left them to ring up her candy.
There was a commotion at the front doors, and I rushed over to make sure the two guys didn’t break anything getting Nolan’s new piece installed.
They were rolling it in on a dolly. The piece was wrapped tightly with heavy navy moving blankets. I couldn’t say I’d miss Pennywise who had been our entrance display for the last six months. He’d always freaked me out.
It took both of them to get the eight-foot thing off the dolly. Because it was Nolan, the base was an intricate metal. He’d used a blowtorch to etch in, What’s your favorite scary movie? along the bottom and then he’d performed some sort of alchemy to make it look like blood.
Nolan never missed a detail.
“You didn’t say it was going to be as big as the front doors, Nolan.”
He grinned over his shoulder. “Yeah, you should have seen me getting it out of my studio. Sturdy as fuck, though.”
I widened my eyes and gave him a hard look as Kira came up the main aisle.
He laughed. “Sorry.”
Kira waved him off. “I work on an orchard. The F-bomb gets dropped more than apples on the ground.”
Marshall grunted as Nolan shifted the piece fully off the dolly.
The clunk of metal on tile made me wince, but it seemed to be only the edges. Thank God Nolan had listened to me about lining the bottom of his bigger pieces with felt.
Nolan quickly unhooked the bungee cords that held the blanket on and it slowly fell away.
Kira gasped and hurried around me to get out of the way—and to get a better look.
I backed up myself and went to stand beside her.
I was not mad at the stained-glass obsession that had taken hold of Nolan for the last year or so. He’d been learning with a master, and I was fairly sure he was at the top of the class. “Damn.”
Kira glanced at me with a grin. “ Scream is one of my favorite movies.”
“Same,” I whispered.
I’d seen the photos, but they didn’t do the actual structure justice. Ghostface had been recreated in black and white with a striking series of glass panels. Behind the masked figure in black robes was a gothic archway full of every color imaginable. At the very top of the arch was a stained-glass petal motif in blood red.
“Your brain is incredible,” I said softly.
Nolan laughed. “Not exactly what Dahlia says, but thanks.” He stepped back with his hands on his hips. “Looks pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” Kira’s voice rose. “Sir, that is masterful.”
He grinned. “Thanks. I’m still figuring out stained glass, but this one is solid.”
Kira shook her head. “Solid is not the word.” She stepped closer, then she paused. “Can I look closer?”
“Sure. It’s stable.” He glanced at me. “There are hidden spaces for acrylic shelves in the leading. You should be able to fill that bad boy up.”
“And I will. I was fighting with one of our distributors today about exactly what I want in there.”
“Bet you’ll win.”
I grinned. “Oh, I will.”
At least this part of my life I knew what to do.
The rest would sort itself out.
Eventually, one way or another.