Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Holly pulled a tray of strawberry muffins from the oven and slid them onto the counter to cool.
Before she could lift them from their tin, a stunning Lokrian traveler with luminous skin and no eyebrows pointed at the tray and held up three fingers.
Holly gingerly handed them over with a warning that they were still hot, accepted the nits, and started mixing the next batch.
She watched the female glide from the lounge with every eye fixed on her.
Beenan would lose his mind if he knew she was hosting a Lokrian at her little outpost.
The lounge was busier than she had ever seen it.
Visitors occupied every table and most of the stools along the bar.
Some were travelers who had stopped to recharge their ships, not because they had to, but because they’d heard about the festival and were curious enough to request docking at the spaceport.
Those were the ones who would never have stopped there otherwise.
Others had come specifically because of Harry’s channel, and those were the ones who had booked rooms in advance at the hotel.
Holly could tell the difference: the general travelers who’d stopped out of curiosity, or necessity, looked around with mild interest, while the Frolicking with Fungi followers (oh, Harry loved wordplay) arrived with enthusiasm and at least one article of clothing bearing an image of a mycelium in some stage of development. They were easy to spot.
She had been at this for hours. The oven had been running since dawn, and the lounge smelled of butter and warm bread and the faintly sweet steam of Harry’s tea station, which occupied the shelving unit Rasker had built and was doing a brisk business of its own.
Two of the eight varieties Harry had stocked had already sold out.
Holly wore a flour-dusted apron over the copper tunic she’d bought from The Emporium, and her hair was pulled back and slightly damp from the heat of the kitchen.
A human woman in a battered flight suit approached the counter and studied the offerings. “Did you make all of this?”
“I did.” Holly gestured to the display. “The scones are popular, but the vegetable pies are my personal favorite. The vegetables were grown right here on the station.”
“You grow things here?” The woman looked genuinely surprised. “On a moon?”
“Under the dome. We have gardens, a forest, even fruit trees.” Holly smiled. “There’s a tour, if you’re interested. Mish runs it from the garden gate.”
“I haven’t been on solid ground in three years and two months,” the woman mused, then bought two scones and a pie, and Holly watched her bite into a scone with pure bliss. “Oh my. You’ve got a customer whenever I’m in the sector,” the woman said around a mouthful.
Holly beamed with pure satisfaction. This was going well. No, it was going absurdly well. With no more customers at the moment, she wiped down the counter, checked the oven timer, and slipped out the lounge door into the square.
The square was alive.
Holly stood on the hotel steps and took it in.
Dozens of visitors moved through the space, browsing, talking, sitting on the benches with food and drinks.
The storefronts that had been dark and empty when she’d arrived were still dark and empty, but today they didn’t look abandoned.
They looked like potential. The Emporium’s door was propped open, and Holly could see people moving inside, drawn by whatever spectacular arrangement Orba and Sula had conjured.
Harry’s shop glowed with its colored lights, and a small crowd had gathered outside the entrance, chatting excitedly about the fungi habitats inside.
Despite Alyce’s objections, the lampposts were strung with garlands Harry had made from mushroom caps that looked like small metallic bells when dried.
They tinkled like bells, too, when the breeze moved them, and their shiny caps caught the light, throwing shifting patterns on the stone paths below.
They also smelled, faintly, of earth. Holly had decided to trust Harry to keep his word about not introducing any fungi with mind-altering properties to their visitors.
Their guests were happy because of the food and attractions.
Surely there were no “happy” spores floating in the air.
Music drifted across the square from speakers Harry had placed near two of the lampposts. Pleasant, rhythmic melodies made the square feel alive, and lived in. These were not Cody’s contribution.
She spotted Alyce cutting across the square at a pace that suggested she was managing four things at once. Her d-pad was in one hand and her other hand was pressed to her ear, listening to something on her comm. Holly intercepted her.
“How are we doing?”
Alyce removed her comm from her ear and nodded.
“We’re doing well. Better than I expected, honestly.
” She glanced at her d-pad. “Twenty-eight new visitors so far, not counting the twenty-three hotel guests. Most came through Harry’s network.
A few are walk-ins from ships that docked for maintenance. ”
“Fifty-one.” Holly’s chest swelled. It was not a huge number by any standard, but for Moone’s Landing, it was enormous.
“The garden tour is going very well,” Alyce went on. “Mish is letting visitors pick a few berries each, which was a smart touch. People love that.” She tucked a braid behind her ear. “The forest walk has had steady traffic all day. Three groups so far, and one couple went through twice.”
“And the bench?”
“Very popular. People are sitting there for twenty, thirty minutes, just looking at the view.” Alyce’s lips curved. “Sam will be pleased about that.”
Holly laughed. “Dare I ask about Cody’s music?”
Alyce’s expression flattened. “He played for about twenty minutes.”
“And?”
“It was objectively terrible, Holly. I don’t know what that instrument was made of, but it produced sounds that I believe violated several acoustic principles.
” Alyce’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Three visitors moved to the far side of the square. A Lokrian covered their auditory receptors. Harry’s sound system took over after Mish asked him to stop. ”
“Did he stop willingly?”
“He stopped,” Alyce said, in a way that suggested the details were not worth revisiting. “I haven’t seen him since.”
Holly sighed. She would deal with Cody later. Today was not the day.
“Everything else is running smoothly,” Alyce continued, already moving. “I need to check on the zig rotation. Sam says the complaining one is making a new sound and he wants me to hear it.”
She was gone before Holly could respond, striding across the square with focused energy. But it was good energy. She could see the lightness in the other woman’s step.
Holly stood on the steps for another moment, watching the square.
A child chased another child around the fountain.
A group of travelers sat on a bench, sipping cups of Harry’s tea.
Two figures emerged from The Emporium showing off bracelets that glinted in the light and a wide hat. Somewhere, a group of visitors laughed.
It was a bit messy, but it was working. The whole thing had the easy, slightly breathless atmosphere of a party that almost didn’t happen.
She went back inside to start a fresh batch of scones.
By evening, the station’s lighting had shifted to its darker cycle. The festival had mellowed, making it feel less like an event and more like an intimate gathering of friends. Some visitors had departed, but the few dozen who remained had congregated in the lounge.
Holly stood behind the counter, frosting cupcakes that were being bought and eaten almost as fast as she could finish them.
A line had formed, which had never happened during her time at Moone’s Landing, and Holly worked through it with focused calm.
She’d spent weeks preparing for this moment, after all.
“Is this made with biological flour or processed carbohydrate powder?” A stout, tentacle-headed Gardran traveler pointed to a scone and examined it with the intensity of a jeweler appraising a stone.
“It’s biological,” Holly replied proudly. “Made from the ground seeds of the wheat plant. Imported from the planet Earth.”
“Interesting. How incredible to find such a gourmet option in a little place all the way out here.” The Gardran selected a cupcake, took a bite, and closed all four of his eyes. He made a sound of profound contentment. “This is extraordinary. I would like six more.”
Holly sold him the cupcakes, ran his currency chip over the reader, and glanced at Mish.
She was having similar good luck after having closed the garden tour to move behind the bar.
The spirit and wine order had been a good call, as Mish mixed drinks and poured wine with an easy smile and a sharp eye.
Her orange hair was held in place with a half-dozen haphazard clips, but she was the picture of control and poise.
“One hard Tarklian cider, one warm Vare-lin wine, and something strong for the gentleman in the corner,” Mish said, sliding drinks across the bar without looking up. “Holly, do we have more of the honey syrup?”
“Cabinet above the sink.”
“Thank you.” Mish swung into the kitchen for the syrup and poked Holly’s arm.
She sent a glance toward the Lokrian female sipping a blue and green drink while surrounded by four enthralled travelers.
“That female sings soprano for the High Council on Outetta-5. She’s a Frolicking with Fungi follower. Can you believe it?”
Holly didn’t get to say that at this point, she could believe just about anything, because the lounge door swung open and Luv rolled in, followed by fourteen small, orange-haired children in two neat rows.