Chapter 10
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Noelle asks me from the driver’s seat of her uncle’s car. I’m in the front passenger seat and obligated to answer because we’ve reached an agreement.
“Four. Do you know Sofia Moreno?” I ask. I’m sure she expected my question to be about her siblings in a tit-for-tat typical human exchange, but if I’m being forced to give up personal information, I’m getting useful information in return. I expect a yes or no answer. What I get is an effusive affirmative followed by a list of the last half dozen books Sofia checked out. As the town librarian, Noelle has no respect for privacy. I will never check out a book from her establishment.
“Unfortunately, Sofia’s a casual,” Noelle concludes with a sad shake of her head.
“What’s a casual?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“A casual reader. She has the potential to be an avid reader. I can feel it! She just hasn’t met the right book yet, the one that will fan her spark into a flame and set her ablaze. Although, I’m pretty sure I’ve found it.” She gives me a wink followed by a meaningful grin, and for a second, I think she means me, metaphorically of course. I’m the right book for Sofia. Something inside my chest swells at the thought. I picture us snuggled together in one of those reading nooks Noelle was going on about, but she destroys the image with what she says next.
“Like Water For Chocolate!”
“Oh, I love that book!” Holly says, jumping into the conversation from the back seat.
“Good to know! Filed away,” Noelle says, bopping her own nose before continuing. “It’s an amazing story and the perfect book for Sofia for, oh gosh, just so many reasons. I’ve been holding it behind the desk for her. But it’s been months, and I’ll have to reshelve it if she doesn’t come in soon. How do you know Sofia, Samite? Oh, I think her family has a cabin up on Mount Winter Bliss. Oh! Is that who you were visiting?“ Every time she asks a question, her eyes light up and veer from the road. She asks a lot of questions, back-to-back, with zero pauses. But our agreement is one for one, not one for a dozen. So, I only answer her last question.
“Yes.”
I might not have known I’d be visiting Sofia when I landed on her lake, but a five-day visit followed, so my one-word answer is true enough. My turn.
“Do you really think she’ll like the book?” I don’t know why that’s what I ask. I suppose I’m genuinely curious despite the twinge of jealousy over Noelle knowing something about Sofia’s tastes that I don’t. Obviously, Sofia has friends and family who have known her for a lot longer than five days, but I can’t shake the feeling that I should rank among the people who know her best.
New questions flood my mind, most of them personal and none of them my business, though I’m sure Noelle would tell me—How many friends does she have in town? Who exactly owns her family cabin? Why the hell hasn’t anyone run a phone line up that damn mountain? I just want to talk to her. What year do they think this is, 1870?—but before I can ask any of them, Holly pops forward.
“You’re thinking of sending it to her, aren’t you, Sam?” She’s scooted to the edge of her seat and her head is bobbing at my shoulder. “You should!” The little blonde pats my arm with eager encouragement.
“It’s Samite.” I correct her sternly. “Send her what? The book? How would I do that?”
“Noelle’s fundraiser! Make a donation. Get a book delivered. It’s perfect and so sweet!”
Hmmm. Not a bad idea, Holly. I glance at her but keep the thought to myself. The problem is I don’t have a way to make a donation. My wallet, cash, credit cards, they’re all gone. Although, there is my digital wallet.
“I need a new phone. I lost mine,” I say.
Noelle whips the car around, and we head straight back into town, no questions asked, surprisingly. The detour further delays my return to the hotel, but so be it. I’ll get there when I get there.
Getting a new phone with all my data ported over is unnervingly easy. Noelle is apparently best friends with the entire town. She knows the demon manning the front desk, but more importantly, he knows her. He’s practically drooling over her red, bouncy hair, and because she vouches for me like we’re old friends, I don’t even have to pay for my new phone. The demon does as she asks and charges it to my account. This woman is a security risk through and through, and I make a mental note to switch providers as soon as I get home.
When we’re back in Noelle’s car, I make the donation to have the book delivered to Sofia. It’s another of Noelle’s library fundraising schemes, so again, the donation amount is ‘any amount you want,’ which is just mind-bogglingly ridiculous.
“Will she know it’s from me?” I ask.
“Of course! I’ll be sure to tell her.” Noelle grins, her red hair bouncing with her affirmative, and I have to admit, it’s hard to look away from.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I say as a wave of uncertainty washes over me. I fiddle with my phone in my lap. We’ve never discussed books. Is this a weird gesture? A mistake?
“Trust me. She’ll want to know it’s from you,” Holly chimes in with a reassuring smile. “Besides, it’s important to show people how you feel, even when you’re afraid they might not feel the same.” How does she know that? I did not say anything like that out loud. “Actually, especially then,” she adds softly, almost to herself, and settles back in her seat.
“And she’ll get it today?” I ask Noelle.
“No, of course not. How would I get up there?” Noelle laughs. “I’ll take it to her as soon as the road opens.”
“Oh.” I mull that over for a minute. I assumed she had a drone or something. She hand delivers books? That can’t be efficient. “If I make another donation, will you deliver a bedside lamp along with the book?”
“A reading lamp and a book?” Noelle takes a hand off the steering wheel to cover her heart and both ladies audibly swoon. “That’s a perfect gift. Oh! There’s a pretty lamp in one of the reading nooks Sofia usually picks. She’s commented on it before. Do you want me to take her that lamp?”
“Yes. How much?”
“Whatever you want to pay.”
I roll my eyes. “How much did you pay for it?”
“I didn’t. It’s a family heirloom. My aunt, by marriage, got it from her mother, who brought it with her from Italy.” Her finger darts one direction, then the other, then back again, which doesn’t make sense chronologically or geographically.
“How much did her mother pay for it?”
“A thousand dollars!” Holly chimes in from the backseat.
“Good girl!” I give her an approving nod over my shoulder before turning back to Noelle to counter. “I’ll give you six hundred.”
“Seven hundred,” Noelle says firmly.
“Deal.” I start to extend my hand, meaning to shake her forearm, but before I can, Noelle squeals and stretches her hand back so Holly can gives her a loud-smacking high five. I snort a laugh. It’s amusing how excited these two get over very small sums of money.
We make one more stop, and both ladies climb out of the car to join me on the sidewalk as I scratch my curiosity itch. The all-glass storefront gives us an unobstructed view of the gutted inside space. It’s large with vaulted ceilings. There are no tables or chairs, only beautiful wall sconces, chandeliers, and at the center, a dramatic stone and steel hearth, easily ten times the size of the one in Sofia’s cabin. A giant, shiny chrome hood hangs above it. As different as it is, it’s easy to see that her cabin kitchen was a prototype for this. Her dream restaurant.
“Poor Sofia,” Noelle says with a shake of her head, and I feel the same sadness echoing in my chest. “It’s a shame it won’t open. An all-flame restaurant? That would have been thematically perfect for our little volcano town. There was quite a bit of buzz around it, too, especially in the demon community. I heard a rumor that they were already booked a year out and another that Joycelon of Fire Division was going to be at the grand opening. It would have been something very special,” she says with a regretful sigh.
“Restaurants are a bad investment,” I say, stiffening and crossing my arms.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Noelle, standing at my elbow, tilts her head thoughtfully. “That’s like saying fun is not a good investment. Sure, it might not make you rich, and it doesn’t last forever, but imagine how sad life would be without any fun in it.”
My brow twitches, and I start to chew the inside of my lip.
“Give me your phone, Sam,” Holly says at my other elbow, and without thinking, I hand it to her. What just happened? I move to snatch it back, but she’s already scurried forward. She opens my camera and takes a picture of the ‘for lease’ sign in the window.
She hands it back and, with a tiny pat on my chest, she winks and says, “Just in case.” What does that mean? In case of what?
I catch a flash of a plaid shirt out of the corner of my eye, and my head whips around. Sofia? My heart races excitedly until I get a better look at the passerby. It’s not her. Not even close. Why would it be? She said she wouldn’t come. My heart sinks again.
At Noelle’s invitation, I have dinner with her and Holly because a demon’s got to eat, and because Dark Mother help me, they’re wonderful people to be around when your heart is in your stomach and your life is upended. The food they provide is unfortunate, but the company is a mix of silly and sympathetic, which is a good thing right now. They do that thing where they suck secrets out of my soul by listening too intently, and I end up telling them everything about my time spent on Mount Winter Bliss with Sofia, well, almost everything. Most critically, I tell them how confusing my departure was.
“Is she done with me?” I ask. They can’t answer for Sofia, but gah! I have two human friends now. They make that very clear.
It’s well past dark by the time I get to the hotel. “Goodnight, Sam!” They shout in unison from the car window. I cringe at the nickname that seems to have stuck as I wave back.
When I reach my door, I enter the code and take a deep breath before walking in.
The bed is empty. I freeze.
It’s gone. My money is gone. I don’t know who ended up with it, but it’s not here. I let out a sigh that’s more like a painful groan, and my eyes squeeze shut.
Fuck.
I scrub my hands down my face and curse some more. But after swearing up a storm and slamming the door, there’s nothing else for me to do, so I go take a shower.
I max out the hot water and walk in. The tiny shower in Sofia’s cabin was far too small to fit both of us. We didn’t even try. But this shower is three times the size, and it’s easy to imagine her in here with me, her face steamy and flushed, her long black hair clinging to her neck and shoulders the way it did at the hot springs. I’ve been away from her less than a day, and I already ache to touch her again, to breathe her in once more. I inhale deeply, but it’s only steam.
I lather up my soap, and the scent doesn’t invigorate my senses the way it usually does. I turn on the extra jets, and instead of stimulating, I find them kind of annoying. I stand under the rain head and try to remember why showers are one of my favorite things, but all I can think about is Sofia. An echo plays at the back of my mind of her steely voice when she’s in charge, and a delightful shudder runs through me.
She barks orders. She bargains like she was born to it. And she cooks with some sort of unfair seduction magic.
Sofia Maria Moreno is part demon. If not through ancestry, then by the piece of me she’s stolen. I lean back against the slick tile, and even with the stinging hot water raining down on me, I shiver.
From the shower, I slump onto the bed and fall backward, not bothering with a towel and not caring if the bed gets soggy. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
My head falls sideways, and something catches my eye. I pop up and crane my neck to look over the far edge of the bed, and there it is. My money, my investment egg! The bag is lying on the floor, toppled on one side, and the cash has spilled out, but unless someone pilfered a few stacks, it’s all there!
I jump to my feet, unsure what to do, but I start moving anyway. I’m halfway through getting dressed when my phone chimes.
It’s a text from my would-have-been business partner. If he’s reaching back out to me, then things didn’t go well with his other potential investors. Interesting.
$5M upon death, and I’ll reconsider.
That’s all his text says. Upon-death clauses are a modern interpretation of a ye olden demon tradition. In days long gone, if a demon had no money to bargain with, he could offer up something to transfer upon his death, his house, his clothes, his herd of goats, his wife. Anything. Regardless of when or how the demon died, the agreement was binding and had to be paid. It resulted in murder more often than not.
These days, an upon-death clause guarantees a one-way payout should a contract come to an untimely end for any reason. It’s a contractual way to grovel. That’s what he’s asking me to do. Grovel and our deal is back on.
$5 million on top of my investment egg is more than I can afford at the moment, but not more than I can come up with if I liquidate my biggest personal assets. If I agree, and he voids the contract early, forcing me to pay out, I’ll be homeless and bunking with one of my brothers for the foreseeable future.
On the other hand, if our contract is fulfilled, this will be the biggest deal I’ve ever struck. This will put me head and shoulders ahead of all four of my brothers and on par with my father.
I go brush my teeth. I come back to look at my money strewn about the floor. I go to the closet and get a fresh pair of socks and a pristinely clean pair of shoes, and again, I come back to look at the cash pile. I pace the room, then sit on the bed and consider it for a long moment before I scoop it back into the bag, shove the whole thing into the safe, lock it, and head out the door.