“We’re not uninterested,” I said. “Look at all these people already having a good time and the event hasn’t even started. This is going to be amazing, because it’s always amazing. There is not a single being in the universe I can think of who puts on better events than you, Bertie. You have set the standard, and no one has come anywhere close to reaching it.”
She blinked a couple times, as surprised at what I’d said as I’d been surprised it needed saying.
“You think I’m worried about my standards?”
“No. Nope. That is not what I said.”
“I have no doubt of my ability to create the most magnificent events out of nothing but backwoods dust. I have been doing it for a lifetime. I have been doing it long before you were born, Not Little Delaney.”
Oh, man. She was really angry. I hadn’t heard that name since I was six and insisted going to school meant I was Not Little Delaney any more.
“I know.”
“And I would hope that you know I do not rely on you to tell me how good my standards may be.”
“I know.”
“The standard is where I set it, when I set it, and how I set it. Precisely. No more and no less.”
“Robyn is never gonna win this fight,” I noted.
She blinked again. Her anger shifting to something that looked a lot more like delight.
“No,” she said, as throaty and happy as I’d ever seen her. It was a little frightening, frankly. “She will not.”
I grinned at her, and wonder of wonders, she grinned back. “So,” she said, back to business, back to being Bertie. “You will speak to Ryder today. I need an answer immediately.”
“I will speak to Ryder today. I promise.”
“Now would be good, Not Little Delaney. Otherwise, I may be forced to put you on the stage, and we would all prefer to be spared that debacle if possible.”
I nodded. “Yep. Now is good. I’ll just head that way. To talk to him. I’m sure he’s gonna love this idea.” I was backing away, smiling for all I was worth, hoping she didn’t swoop down and draft me into the production out of spite.
Luckily, she was distracted by the clatter of several metal chairs falling into each other.
The two teens who had been fake sword fighting between the aisles must have felt Bertie’s gaze. They looked up from the tangle of chairs, and their faces froze in fear.
I waved my arms, and their eyes ticked to me. “Run!” I shouted through my cupped hands. The boys took off like jackrabbits.
“Delaney,” Bertie scolded.
“Can’t stay, gotta run. Important police business.” I took my own advice and sprinted to the Jeep. I got out of there as quickly as I could, doing a slightly illegal U-turn out onto the main road.
Finding Ryder wasn’t the most important thing on my plate, but I had promised Bertie, and if I didn’t follow through, she would.
So I drove through town and parked at the Blue Owl. There were several cars in the lot and a couple semi-trucks. The diner was the only twenty-four-hour place in town, and since it was on the north side of town near the highway, it was a favorite stop for truckers.
It didn’t hurt that the food was amazing, or that Piper, one of the main waitresses, was a demigod who had a knack for knowing little bits of the future. She always seemed to know what you were going to order and when you needed your coffee refilled.
The Blue Owl’s big windows had booths set in them. From where I parked, I could see some of the patrons. As a matter of fact, I could see Ryder sitting opposite Vivian.
To anyone else he probably seemed relaxed, happy even. But I knew he was very aware he was sitting with a person who would hunt, capture, and maybe torture or kill people who just wanted to live their lives peacefully.
People who just wanted to have a good home, good food, good work, and to spend time with family and friends.
I loved him for standing up for them. Standing up for all of us.
I just didn’t like that he was taking this burden on alone. I should walk right in there and invite myself to breakfast.
