What she didn’t look like was a blonde freckled-nosed chick who’d recently received the devastating knowledge that Queen Guinevere wasn’t actually buried at Glastonbury Abbey. It was just a trick the medieval priests there played to get the medieval version of tourists to show up.
“Good Lord,” the blonde cried through burgeoning hilarity, “what are you women wearing on your heads?”
I noticed Prue’s hand start to move to the flower crown, even as I sensed a calamitous scattering of emotions beating into the room from Battle and Temperance, and both Lord Raleigh’s and his fiancée’s shoulders curled in like they were trying to disappear themselves.
Obviously, this meant I had to forge into the breach.
I mean, what else could I do?
And I did this by striding forward quickly, before Prue could take off her crown, with mine firmly and proudly in place, and I dumped my baker’s box from Burns the Bread on the table between them.
“It’s a flower crown,” I answered. “We just returned from Glastonbury.”
“You’re the American,” she observed unnecessarily.
“In the flesh.” I stuck my hand out to her. “Vivienne Dupree.”
“Bestselling author,” Temperance drawled.
Chelsea Renfrew stared at my hand, and for a beat, I thought she’d ignore it, but then she leaned forward and put her fingers limply in mine.
I squeezed them…hard.
Then I let her go and flipped open the baker’s box.
“Viennese fingers for you,” I said to Temperance and turned to Battle. “Chassie has your donuts.”
“Here they are, Battie,” Chastity whisper-announced and took her box to him.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured.
I pushed in front of Chelsea and plopped down between her and Temperance.
Temperance hummed delightedly.
Chelsea gasped audibly and scuttled deeper into her corner.
I dug into a bag and pulled out the black and red flower crown we got Temperance.
I handed it to her. “You don’t have to wear it. But we agreed it’s so you.”
She took it and replied in a question, “Thank you?”
I grinned at her and turned to the other two people I didn’t know.
“Hi, I’m Vivi.”
The man got up and reached over the coffee table. “Rally. Great to meet you.”
I shook his hand.
When he sat back, the woman gave me a pained smile that I sensed was not caused by being pained at me, and pushed out, “Courtney.”
“Hi,” I replied.
“We also bought books. And crystals,” Prue said, upending her bag on the table where a bunch of crystals skittered out.
“I wanted to buy some sage sticks,” Chastity whisper-told Battle. “But Vivi told me it’s cultural appropriation.”
