Chapter 14 #2
“Mr. Mayor, what can I get you?” Seren’s voice, devoid of all intonation, broke her reverie, and she was grateful for it.
Seren’s wink, however, set her on edge once again, since her “steadiness” was clearly a figment of her own imagination and either the Crowhart sisters were all menaces and mind-readers, or Pru was exceptionally bad at obfuscation.
She thought it was probably a lot of both.
“Oh, maybe an Americano? I’m not much for the fancy stuff, but I heard Prudence was here, so I took a chance to see my girl. And shake some hands. This campaign is heating up on me.”
“You have a challenger, Father?”
He laughed, the smooth laughter that enhanced his already handsome face, showing off the charming crow’s feet and the laugh lines.
It struck her sometimes how good-looking he was, and how she had taken so much of his face and yet looked nothing like him.
How the same features arranged themselves differently on her.
They shared the same eyes, but hers were gray and his were pale blue. They were both fair headed, but where he was honeyed, she was a towhead. Close, but not quite the same.
“Not really, Prudence. You know Judge Astor, he always stages an attempt. It’s all a big joke for him, every single time.
And then the country club president, but John is a friend, so it would all be in good fun.
Every time, they try to wind me up and burn money just so they can tease me at the poker night. ”
“I heard the new owner of the Viridescent is a viable candidate.”
Rhiannon’s words had the effect of a pin being pulled out of a grenade. Everyone collectively held their breaths.
“You heard wrong, Ms. Crowhart.” Her father’s tone was neutral, and final.
Rhiannon threw that fake smile his way. “Oh, I’m sure you’d know best, Mr. Fowler, being the mayor with your hand on the pulse of this race.” He answered with a smirk of his own, the people around them returning to their conversations, only for Rhiannon to finally toss the grenade.
“However, when I stopped by the town hall this morning for my operating permits, I saw her sign the paperwork at the Electoral Commission’s Office.”
Well, that was quite a scoop. Rhiannon went back to her latte as if she didn’t just drop the biggest news this town had witnessed since, well, since the Viridescent Cliff had been leased to developers.
And this particular developer was in a class of her own when it came to being mysterious. Pru knew that she was in her forties and had been in the hospitality business for decades, scoring the most impressive contracts on the East Coast. Pru didn’t even know her name.
“That woman is running for mayor?” Jedidiah Fowler was rarely surprised, Pru could count those instances on the fingers of one hand and still have fingers left. But he sure was surprised now.
“Paloma Allende,” Rhiannon supplied helpfully. “I had the pleasure of introducing myself. She is throwing a reception at the Viridescent for the town’s business owners next week. You’re invited, Prudence. I assume since you’re her direct opponent, you, Mr. Mayor, are not.”
Her father’s face showed nothing at all, a practiced politician’s smile replacing the earlier shock, but Pru knew she’d be getting an earful about all of this. And soon.
Seren was asking something of Rhiannon, and the other patrons were gathering around them with questions of their own, or maybe because it gave them the excuse to speak to the elusive Crowhart sister. Pru exchanged a look with her father, who patted her shoulder.
“It’s okay, my girl. I’m sure Ms. Allende will have a nice little campaign and use it to introduce herself to the townspeople. It’s an effective tool.”
Pru nodded and bussed his cheek. Surprised as he had been, he didn’t look worried. But he did look tired. Her heart squeezed in her chest.
As he shook a few more hands and excused himself, Pru finally turned back to Rhiannon, who was enjoying what appeared to be her second latte, Seren’s coffee art talent on display in the form of a cat in her glass mug.
A smirking cat. Who looked like she ate the canary.
Pru lifted her gaze to Rhiannon only to see a matching expression.
“You enjoy antagonizing people?” she asked.
Rhiannon’s smirk grew wider.
“Just men.” Then she leaned closer, and her breath brushed Pru’s ear, sending shivers down her spine.
“But I was enjoying our previous conversation a lot more.” Then she straightened and took a single sip of the coffee before setting it aside, along with a twenty-dollar bill.
“Unfortunately, there are people to see and places to conquer. Alas, I shall have to take a rain check. Will you allow me?”
Why did Pru think that Rhiannon used that particular sequence of words in that particular tone on purpose? Because, darn it, Pru felt it in her very bones. All the scenarios where she would or would not allow Rhiannon things flooded her mind…
“Yeah… Yes!” She stumbled over her own breath and refused to meet Seren’s eye when Rhiannon exited the coffee shop.
“Prudence Fowler…and my sister. Not just any sister, mind you. It had to be Rhiannon. The Windburn,” Seren said as she watched Rhiannon walk away. “And here everyone thought you lived a quiet, boring life.”
“Why Windburn, Seren?”
“Because there are always burns when she is involved, Pru. Come what is meant. Be safe, boring life or not.” Seren winked and Pru left Crow’s Brew in a daze.
Pru thought about Seren’s words about her life.
Boring. Quiet. She considered it so herself.
As she returned to Book Nest, she realized she had been thinking that since she returned to Dragons after getting her college degree in library science.
Nothing much happened in town, which had slumbered quietly in the shadow of the school for centuries.
With her father thoroughly uninterested and wanting to dedicate more and more time to his mayoral duties, she took over her grandmother’s business.
She told herself she was happy. Was the bookshop her dream?
Not when she began, but slowly, with her entire life beginning to revolve around the narrow aisles and cozy armchairs by the brick fireplace and the displays she spent way too many hours on, Pru had realized she had found her place.
But her place felt…empty. Despite the stacks of books and the candles and the tchotchkes.
As she restocked the Women’s Fiction shelves, she looked around herself with a critical eye.
A few years ago, when her grandmother passed away, the store became solely hers and yet she’d stalled on making big decisions about it.
Maybe that needed to change. An adjustment was needed.
Both to her way of living and of thinking, as if waiting for something to happen.
To the business, to her. In the meantime, both had been languishing.
The store needed something. A new coat of paint, a new vibe, if you would.
Pru knew a metaphor when one presented itself so unequivocally. She made a mental note to order paint swatches. And maybe some decals. Of dragons. And crows. And possums. Of course, possums.
The island and the town carried an allure of mystery. It was perhaps time to lean into it more. Mentally going through some of the changes she could adopt, Pru missed the bell signaling customers.
It was just one. A tall, handsome man with a backpack and a steel water bottle plastered with stickers.
A quintessential tourist. He smiled as he approached and Pru returned it, her bookseller eye assessing him quickly.
Nonfiction fan, mostly audiobooks, judging by the headphones.
He’d want something on local history and a souvenir to commemorate his visit to the island.
Pru’s hand reached for the stack of postcards.
“Welcome to Book Nest. How may I help you?”
When he rattled off how much he heard about Dragons on a podcast, loved what he had seen so far, and wanted a piece to remember his trip by, Pru patted herself on the back for a well-made guess.
Twenty minutes, two coffee table books on the town, an audiobook on the school and one on the island itself, three postcards, a few stickers, and a magnet later, Jalen—because he insisted she use his name—shook her hand and wished her a pleasant afternoon.
He did try to persuade her to have a drink with him “at this absolutely magnificent restaurant just down the street,” but Pru waved him away.
She was almost two hundred dollars richer and preferred not to waste her evenings.
He took her polite refusal on the chin, and Pru returned to the back of the shop where the fire was fading in the reading nook.
She knelt, debating whether to throw on another log or to let it die out.
“I shall have to tell my aunt that people think the Tavern is absolutely magnificent. She will be pleased.”
Pru screamed and dropped the bulky piece of wood. It landed half in the fireplace, thus taking care of her decision of whether to keep the fire going.
Rhiannon—unrepentant, gorgeous, dangerous, sly—looked down at her, arms casually crossed over her chest, pulling just a bit on her blouse, revealing the deep vee of her décolletage. Pru thought how fitting it was that she was on her knees. One needed to genuflect when faced with those breasts.
Rhiannon’s gaze was knowing. Seeing. That arrogant smile was back on those lips and Pru almost whimpered.
Almost. For all she knew, Rhiannon could be here for a business meeting.
As two neighboring merchants were prone to do.
Also, weren’t they going to some town hall event later some week or another?
Moreover, it was barely mid-afternoon. The shop was open… Pru glanced toward the front door.
Rhiannon leaned forward, extended her hand, and lifted Pru’s chin till their eyes met. Pru felt the touch and the gaze in her bones.
“You’ll have to pray that nobody enters, then.”