They selected a suitable carpet, a couple of vases, two new chairs for the front corner, and the table Fern kept fussing over, as well as a painting that Maylee insisted would add some class when hung behind the counter.
Viv made sure to toss in the gull bookends.
Maylee turned out to be an excellent haggler, and the brothers were both regulars at Sea-Song. Viv could see dismay in the pained wrinkles on their brows as they balanced the baker’s good humor against their potential for profit.
Possibly an unfair advantage on Maylee’s part.
Viv pitched in some additional cash to have it all delivered, patted her thigh, and declared, “If Highlark saw me hauling any of it back, he’d probably stab me in the other leg.”
A few fresh pots of white paint from a cabinetmaker off the market street, and Viv considered the trip pretty successful.
“Dinner is on me,” she said. “About time I ate someplace besides The Perch.”
“I knew there was a reason I came,” said Maylee, slipping her fingers into Viv’s hand. She smelled of ginger and sunlit skin.
Viv squeezed them back. Deep down she held the knowledge of an impending ache, imperfectly disguised. But there was no getting around that, not really.
Maylee knew it was coming too. By silent agreement, they’d both pretend it wasn’t for a while longer.
“And then I said, ‘Of course I can’t put it away, it’s my fuckingtail!’ ” hollered Fern, banging one paw on the table.
Maylee tried to swallow her beer, but a laugh met it going the other direction, with predictable results. Viv pounded her on the back—gently—while finishing off her own mug. After, it was easy enough to leave her hand there.
At Maylee’s insistence, they’d moved on from dinner to a low-ceilinged tavern tucked into an alley, and they were the only three patrons. Several drinks in, they more than made up for the lack of customers with their own volume. At this point, the tavernkeep dodged in and out to refill their beverages like they were a nest of angry snakes, and every time he did so, Maylee only laughed louder.
“Sothen,” continued Fern, slurring a little and waving her glass, “he says, ‘I don’t carewhatit is, but if you grab my assone more time’ ”—she puffed herself up and deepened her voice—“ ‘there’s going to betrouble.’ ”
Maylee was wheezing for breath now.
Viv leaned back in her chair and regarded the rattkin over the top of her empty mug. “Well.Wereyou grabbing his ass?”
“Of course not,” said Fern. “It was not. Worth. Grabbing,” she declared, punctuating each word with a stab of her claw. “He had a… a whatsit. A… alantern. Banging into his butt.”
“He was aGatewarden?” Maylee said.
“AnasslessGatewarden,” declared Fern.
And then they were all laughing.
When that wound its way down to relative quiet, Fern looked at the both of them, teary-eyed, and raised her glass again. “To you two. You’re…” She searched for the word. “Cute. And I’m drunk.”
“Cute, huh? You’re definitely drunk,” said Viv, hoisting her refilled mug.
“Speak for yourself.” Maylee clinked her own mug against Fern’s glass. “I’m cute as hells.”
Viv saw the challenging look on Maylee’s face and decided she’d definitely answered too hastily. In fact, the pleasant flush in her cheeks and the bloom in her chest made her want to lean in close, brush her thumb across Maylee’s lower lip, and—
She suddenly noticed Fern watching them avidly, with her cheek on one paw, swirling her glass with the other.
Viv cleared her throat, but her words were in earnest. “Can’t argue with that.”
30
“Gods, it looks pretty grim, doesn’t it?” said Fern. She massaged her forehead, still a little the worse for wear after the prior night’s adventure.
She, Viv, and Satchel stood together near the center of the shop. The front door was latched, supplies piled in the middle of the floor, the tops of the wall shelves draped with old sailcloth weighted in place with stones. The table, chairs, and carpet they’d purchased were arrayed on the boardwalk out front, along with any other freestanding furniture that could be moved there. The gull bookends sat together on the countertop like a humorous afterthought.
Somehow, their addition made the flaking paint more obvious, and every worn corner of the room looked shabbier than normal.
