14. Valefar #2
I consider this. “Robby is correct.”
She points the sage bundle at me. “Stay out of this.”
I clasp my hands behind my back. “I shall remain impartial.”
She blows a disbelieving puff from her lips. “You’ve been here a day. You don’t know how to be impartial.”
That may be true.
Robby continues before I can formulate a defense, relaying how she cleaned, repaired, and decorated.
His gesture encompasses the crystal displays, the framed botanical prints, the hanging lanterns, the mismatched vintage cabinets and reclaimed-wood tables surrounding the coffee bar.
Mostly from thrift stores or estate sales.
I am competent enough to dissect the information.
“She has the finest eye I’ve ever seen for one man’s trash becoming another woman’s treasure.”
Vesper’s mouth curls. “I’ll take that one.”
“She learned half the repairs from YouTube and the other half from a battered copy of Home Repair and Improvement for Dummies.”
My attention snaps immediately back to him, brow furrowing. “For dummies? The book called her a dummy?”
Her lips twitch. “No, Vale. It’s a series with the same titles.”
“A series insulting its own readers?”
Robby makes a choking noise. “He’s never heard of the “For Dummies” books?”
Vesper’s smile widens. “He’s a transplant.”
“From where? Mars?”
I shake my head quite firmly. “The Romans would revolt if so.”
Vesper laughs, genuinely, generously, and it sends heat right to my groin.
Robby’s attention shifts back to me. “So. Vale. What exactly do you do?”
Vesper throws him another look while I reply, “Helping.”
“With what?”
“Anything Vesper desires.”
Robby gives a short, appreciative whistle and bobs his eyebrows at Vesper.
“Don’t start, Robby.” She stabs a finger at him. “Or I’ll consider adding a taxidermy aisle. You can be the first test.”
Robby draws himself up, one hand settling over his chest in exaggerated offense. “I cannot defend myself against slander in my own workplace.”
“This is my workplace.”
“See?” He tips his chin in my direction, clearly expecting agreement. “Long-suffering.”
I nearly grin and show my teeth, but thankfully, Robby is squeezing Vesper in a hug once more. “Anyway, boss lady, I need you to approve the summer solstice endcap before I finish it.”
Vesper glances toward the rear display. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Approximately seventeen things wrong with the organization.”
“Ugh, fine.” Then, she waves at me. “Come on, Big Guy. You can learn what an endcap is.”
We spend the next several minutes rearranging the display.
Or rather, Vesper and Robby rearrange it while disagreeing about the height of several lanterns, and I stand nearby learning that humans can debate four inches of shelf placement with the intensity of generals discussing battlefield positions.
Vesper is reaching above her head to shift a hanging garland when Robby catches my attention again.
He nods toward her, lowering his voice. “Listen…Vale. Vesper hates people making a fuss over her, but she did something very special here. There were nights she slept on a mattress in the back room because she couldn’t afford to keep driving home after working until three in the morning.”
My attention returns to Vesper. She is standing on her toes now, tongue pressed slightly against one corner of her mouth as she adjusts the garland. The utter humanity of it endears her even more to me.
“She had Bethie then?” I ask quietly.
Robby shakes his head. “Toward the end. She used to call this place her first baby.” His expression sobers. “When things finally went bad with her bastard ex, she was pregnant and lived in the stockroom for a week before I caught her.”
“Here?”
“Air mattress and gym showers. My wife and I practically kidnapped her until she found somewhere permanent.”
My opinion of Robby shifts instantly. Then I notice the ring on his left hand and feel an embarrassing amount of relief. His knowing smirk tells me he notices that too.
“People spent years telling her to sell this place and be a proper wife,” he adds, shoving his hands in his pockets, glancing at her. “She never would.”
“Good.” My spine bristles.
“Damn right.” His jaw hardens. “This was the one thing nobody could convince her belonged to somebody else.” His expression softens. “She doesn’t need anyone to save her. But it’s nice when somebody finally helps carry shit anyway.”
Before I can answer, he spots someone approaching the counter. “Excuse me. Customer.”
I’m still ruminating on the words “bastard ex” when I sense someone observing me. I search the area. There.
Vesper’s mother is still at the bar, watching me with a quiet, calculating awareness.
After a moment, she drifts toward the invisible boundary between the coffee bar and the main shop, stopping just short as though this half of the room is cursed or something.
I am quite familiar with curses. Vesper’s shop is the opposite.
It is blessed—by her presence alone, I’m certain.
“New employee?” her mother asks, glancing between me and the displays.
“I am assisting for the day.” This seems accurate enough.
Eyes narrowed, she tips her head. “She seems fond of you.”
I look toward my summoner. “I hope so,” I answer sincerely.
Her mother opens her mouth, perhaps intending to say more, but Vesper approaches from the display and resumes unpacking the first box. I step closer to help, careful to remain useful without crowding her.
My attention settles almost entirely on Vesper. I consider my conversation with Robby, wondering if I should share it with her. And then, I sense the tingling. Something slipping. The glamour flickers.
I feel the familiar weight of my tail behind me half a second before a sharp inhale sounds from a few feet away. When I look up, Vesper’s mother has gone pale, her gaze fixed somewhere behind my legs.
Damn.
I restore the glamour immediately, but her white shock tells me I was too slow. She saw something, though I cannot tell how much.
Face paling, Vesper touches my forearm. “Mom?”
Her mother turns to Vesper, but says nothing. After a tense moment, she reaches for her purse. “I should go.”
Vesper’s shoulders loosen slightly. “Okay.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Sure.”
She glances back at me once, hunting for something. Then she leaves, the cheerful bell above the door entirely at odds with a tense silence.
Vesper exhales slowly and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just great.”