Chapter 21 #2
Rhiannon looked around. People were curious.
They pointed and talked animatedly about the shop and the name.
Others undoubtedly whispered gossip about her and the Crowharts.
That was fine by her, let them. And then let them come back and buy the books.
And go to the Tavern for a meal. And drink coffee at the Brew after ordering flowers at Blossoms. Rhiannon recalled Lachlan’s question about her family being bourgeois.
At the time it made her shrug. Now it made her proud.
They created something here and she had been instrumental.
She saw Jerry making himself scarce with Marsha still glaring at everyone, as Victoria beamed at the storefront and then at Prudence.
“Sassy this morning, Prudence Ophelia. I will go google that salad tossin’ thing and report back. And all of you better find something else to do than gossip about my niece in the middle of the damn day.”
Prudence finished her apple and wrapped the core into a napkin.
“I really don’t think anyone wants to know your browser history. Not even the FBI.” She winked at Victoria and then her eyes lingered on Rhiannon, still laughing. Her expression was pensive as she made her way back into her store.
As people dispersed, Lachlan jumped down from the ladder that had been barely holding him in the wake of all the shenanigans and gave Rhiannon a one-armed hug from behind. Then they simply stood in silence and looked up at the sign, periodically sighing in contentment.
“We did good here, boss lady.”
“We did, errand boy.” He poked her in the ribs and she giggled, surprising herself with the sound.
“I forgot that you could laugh like this, you know. Free.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s been a while. And here you are, laughing all morning.”
Rhiannon said nothing and just allowed the moment to settle around her.
She’d remember this one. Goddess knew she didn’t want to be here.
She had fought tooth and nail for every paper, every document, every lawyer and judge.
Time and again she’d lost and was forced to take a step closer to Dragons. And she hated the place more.
She remembered the feeling of prying open the rusty lock on the front door and seeing nothing but cobwebs and dust inside.
She didn’t think she would be on the island for one week, much less almost three months.
Yet it was October on Dragons, and she was opening Crow & Cat and her orders were stacked high on her counter.
Rhiannon was yet to get all her tools set up in the shop, the potential commercial restoration projects piling up as Lachlan kept bookmarking possible ones for her, sending her at least three a day during their downtime.
She had been making very slow progress on the Compendium, and it was only intensifying her desire to finally pick up the bone folder and the repairs knife full-time again. She admitted to herself that she missed the acrid scent of the PVA glue. And the aged leather.
A cough from behind them was followed up by “Hey, I’m talking to you,” and both Rhiannon and Lachlan turned to face a disheveled and heavily breathing Lisa.
“Where do you think you get off on coming to the school and talking to my supervisor and getting me fired?”
Lisa took a step forward and Lachlan immediately shielded Rhiannon.
“I see, always hiding behind people. You didn’t have the guts to talk to me, so you tattled to my boss. Now you got a fag—”
“You better not finish that sentence, Miss.” Rhiannon stepped in front of Lachlan and breathed in the sweat and alcohol radiating from Lisa. “As for speaking to anyone about you? I don’t even know your name.”
Lisa staggered back a full step, and Rhiannon took advantage to press on, walking her backward and down the street from her shop. This trouble needed to be far, far away from here.
“Have you spoken to Prudence recently?”
Lisa tilted her head, eyes widening.
“What?”
Rhiannon narrowed hers and repeated, enunciating each word.
“Have. You. Spoken. To. Prudence. Recently?”
“Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”
“Then why would I need to climb all the way up the damn cliffs, in my fabulous shoes, and speak to people about someone whose name I don’t remember?”
Lisa paled and then bared her teeth.
“You think you’re better than me? I know your kind—”
“My kind is the one who might not climb the damn cliffs but will still walk all over you in my brand-new Louboutins if you don’t leave my place of business. We had a deal, you and I. And I keep my word. Now, if that is all?”
“Yeah, that’s what you’d prefer. For it to be all done. Neatly squared away. Disposed of. Like you disposed of your wife.”
Lisa grinned with malice as her words hit their target. Rhiannon flinched and dropped the phone she’d been holding, the screen cracking with a pitiful sound that made her cringe.
“You think you are so high and mighty, honey, but everyone has secrets. Secrets that run very deep. And now that I am unemployed, thanks to you, I have all the time in the world to dig into those very secrets. Something tells me I will find quite a few where you’re concerned.”
Rhiannon’s throat was slamming shut, and any second she’d be clawing at it, needing air.
Panic attack, just a panic attack.
“You better stay away from me.”
“Or what?”
Lachlan stepped between them yet again, but before he could say anything Pru’s voice right beside her sounded like the cavalry over the hill. Like Rohan’s horns.
“I think it’s time for you to leave now, Lisa. Before you say something you might regret. Actually, you’ve said plenty as it is.”
“Is that a threat, Pru? Suddenly you’re mighty brave and adventurous.
If only you’d have been this adventurous when we were together.
” Lisa’s smirk was downright lecherous, and Rhiannon tasted bile.
She could feel the craft clawing at her throat.
On the heels of fear, on the heels of panic, her raging power was rearing its head.
“Leave. Now.” She ground out the last word, and whatever Lisa saw on her face must’ve been enough to persuade her to depart without another sound. Her eyes spoke volumes, however, and the hatred in them was more than Rhiannon thought the entire situation warranted.
She turned and looked at the storefront, the exposed dark brick clean and the glass gleaming in the morning sun. And then dread slithered down her spine. In the second-story window—her bedroom’s—a photograph covered in blood was looking down at her.
“Margaux…”