Chapter 2 #4
“Oh, don’t be so modest. Take the credit. You are great, Miss Dellencourt.”
“Martha, and thank you,” I snorted a chuckled, then hurried on because I was really uncomfortable with compliments about anything personal. “What were you saying?”
"Okay but know that you have a fan in me.”
“Thank you.”
“And the Fire Brigade is on the way." I could hear the smile in her voice and the confidence she had in the firefighters who were rushing to save my little store, then she added with a giggle, and if possible, I liked her even more.
"And, as for a vacation, it might be a good idea.
You work so hard. Your shop is always busy, and with only Raymondo to help, I bet you just drop into bed at the end of the night. "
See? Told you the girl was a keeper.
“Not really,” I snickered, thinking about my one and only employee, Raymondo Thibodeaux, the one and only Centipede Shifter in the whole world who was given sanctuary here in Dragoon Bootay by Fate.
Not only was it cool that he could partially shift and work with a ton of extra ‘hands’ but it helped that he was almost as old as me and never ever never called me ‘a Dragon of a certain age’.
Talk about a Prince. I loved him like he was my own.
(And it bears mentioning that partially Shifting was the stock and trade of all of us dual-natured souls. If anyone has ever tried to tell you any different, they were lying. That’s just all there is to it.)
"Yeah, ray and I make a great team. We've been together in more than one business venture over the years.
It's like we share a brain when we're together.
He even completes my sentences. Thank the Goddess he is off visiting his folks, which took almost a year to get Fate to approve. He would be losing his mind right now."
"Ha! That sounds like my brother and me," she snickered.
"But we're twins. So, I guess we kinda do share a brain.
" With just the slightest pause, the sweet girl continued, her tone much more timid, just barely above a whisper.
"But…" She drew out the word before rushing on to finish, the words coming so quickly they all ran together.
"…and I know this is extremely presumptuous…
and if I'm overstepping, please just tell me to hush my mouth, and we'll forget I ever said anything.
Oh crap! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even thought it. Please forgive me…"
"Hey, Hun," I interrupted before she hyperventilated, and I was forced to call 911 to get help for an actual 911 operator. "Breathe and tell me what you need. I gotcha covered– unless it's a million dollars or advice about your love life. Where those two subjects are concerned, I got nuthin’.”
"Are you sure? I mean, it really is a lot to ask." She inhaled so deeply I thought she might pass out, then came right back stronger than ever, "No! No-no-no-no- I can't. Just forget…"
"Out with it," I insisted. "Just ask me, or I will wonder about it forever, and then it will drive me batty, and Goddess knows, I'm already batty enough."
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Yep. Hit me.”
“Okay,” she mumbled sheepishly, her indecision and worry leading the way.
“Can you teach me how to make real ‘Marvelous Martha’ coffee some time?
Mine is terrible. Like horrible. Like worse than day-old dishwater.
Even if you don't go on vacay, I still need more than one cup of your wonderful brew a day, and most days I can't make a second trip before closing time. "
“Oh, my Lordy, yes! Of course,” I laughed out loud despite the situation. “I sure can. It would be an honor. You have to be the nicest, most genuine person I’ve talked to in a long time. And, let’s face it, a girl should never be without her java. Not to mention, we’re closed on Sundays.”
“Yep,” she chirped. “I’m not even a little ashamed to tell you that I buy two on Saturday and save one for the next day. When the weather is cold, it pretty good heated up, and when it’s hot out, I just order the second without ice. It’s just not the same, ya’ know what I mean?”
“I so do, and you are so my kinda girl," I readily cheered. "Remember, it's all about the beans, the cream– if you take yours that way, and the temperature of the water– even when you’re making cold brew. The water and the beans are the key."
"Awesome," she beamed, and I could feel her happiness over the airwaves. "Thank you so much, Miss Dellencourt…”
“Martha.”
“Oh yeah, Martha,” she giggled. “You have just made my whole year. First of all, I get to talk to you. I’m so very sorry about the circumstances–it's terrible, and I will do anything I can to help you get the shop back up and running.
We've got everything from contractors to brick masons in the Pride.
Your shop will be back up and running in no time.
You can count on it. We all live on your coffee and pastries.
And someday, I get to learn to make it. Yep, the best day in a long time.
Are you still okay? Need me to call anyone for you? Need the EMTs? An ambulance?"
"No, darlin', I'm good. Thanks for asking, and just so you know, you've made my day, too. Never would've thought calling 911 could lead me to a new friend."
"It is my honor. You're one of my favorite people in the whole world. Hang on just a sec." More staticky squelches, and she was right back. "The Fire Brigade is right around the corner. Can you believe we've only been talking for less than three minutes? How cool is that?"
"Pretty cool, and that includes dealing with my psychotic, pregnant sister."
“Oh, she was fine. No lie. I would’ve done worse if it’s had been someone I loved on the other end of a 911 call.”
“OH, good. I would hate for you to think everyone in the Dellencourt Clan is nuts.”
Trying to inject the enthusiasm I felt at talking to the sweet woman, I couldn't help but dread what I knew was coming next. I'd avoided telling her how the fire started, but it wasn't going to be so easy when the firefighters arrived.
Someone would ask how the blaze started, and I would have to tell them the whole sordid tale. Talk about a kick in the keister from Fate– and yes, she had her combat boots firmly on her size ten feet. Blowing out an exasperated breath, I sighed, "Yep, I can hear the sirens."
“Oh, great,” she chirped. “Now, how did you say that fire started?”
Shit! Came sooner than I thought.
“Well, it’s like this… I was… What’s your name, Darlin’? I can’t believe we’ve been talkin' all this time, you’ve dealt with the crazy branch of my family tree, and I forgot to ask your name."
“It’s Theresa. Theresa Thomas,” she excitedly giggled.
“I should’ve said that. Oh, and I should’ve told you that I drive the candy apple red VW bug with black spots, eyelashes on the headlights, and a sunflower on the gearshift.
At least, this way you can be sure I’m some crazy stalker I had to sound like a groupie when I was talking about your boys and your coffee. ”
Her nervous laughter lifted my spirits. Didn’t matter that I was about to recount the most embarrassing moment of my whole life– she was the one who was uneasy. Damn, she was good.
(I know. I know. I said that before, but it’s important.)
"Sounds cute," I responded, having no clue who she was as I wracked my brain trying to recall ever seeing a car that sounded nothing short of adorable.
I didn't want to be rude or appear bitchy or uppity.
And, I have to admit that I was praying double time for the fire trucks to arrive before I had to explain how the fire started and risk losing the new friend I'd just made.
Like I said, I was pretty sure she would be calling on the renowned Dr. Maxine Monroe, Psychiatrist for the Shifterly Insane, once she got the full 411.
Utterly oblivious to my inner turmoil, Theresa…
(Thank the Goddess I finally had her name. See? It’s like I told you. My brain just does not run on all cylinders without a constant flow of coffee.)
…kept right on chatting. “I always order the same thing – large coffee, extra hot, with loads of cream, no sugar, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla and three of sugar-free cinnamon caramel syrup.”
“Oh, yeah,” I blurted out, relieved that I finally remembered such a loyal customer and really great person. “And you always get a warm cinnamon bun with honey butter slathered on the top and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”
(I would be making a double batch of those beauties and delivering them personally just as soon as I had a kitchen again.)
“I do,” she gushed, obviously pleased that I recalled her order.
“I love my sweets almost as much as I love my coffee. Mom says it’s a Big Cat thing.
I think it’s just a ‘me’ thing. Heck, I’ve loved anything ooey, gooey, and chocked full of calories since I was a little girl.
Don’t think it’s gonna change after two-hundred-and-fifty-two-and-a-half years, do you? ”
"Nope," I agreed, the shrill trill of sirens forcing me to use my extra-sensitive Dragon Queen hearing to be sure I wasn't talking over the dear woman. "I'm over five-hundred, and I still live on caffeine and chocolate, no matter how many extra curves I get."
Laughing out loud, the Tigress readily agreed, “Just more of us to love, right?”
"Yeah, well, it's been great talking to you, Theresa, but the firemen are here and… and… and…" Yep, I was really stuttering like a scratched record, and it didn't stop there.