“What?”
“I said no, but the long and short of it is that she mailed it already.” He shrugged. “We’ll have to send it back, of course.”
Impractical hope bloomed in her chest. “Peter, what if …”
His laugh was short. He leaned in closer. “What if several hundred more people spontaneously decide to give us $5,000, you mean?”
She sighed. He was right—a ridiculous thought.
“I should have realized it wasn’t the Pentagram,” he added. “They’re not due to call for another hour and twenty minutes. Shall we?”
They were halfway up the steps when a knock rang out on the front door. Croft stood on their porch.
“For pity’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?” He looked at Beatrix, shaking his head. “I had no idea until I picked up the paper.”
“I didn’t want to bother you?—”
“Botherme? You’re the closest thing I have to a daughter, you know!”
For all his kindness, she hadn’t realized he’d seen her that way. He was kind to everyone. Eyes welling, she threw her arms around him.
“Well, now.” Croft cleared his throat and patted her shoulder. “Well, now—what I came to tell you is that we’ve got $14,000 in the budget that we didn’t have to spend because of all the leak-fixing and other infrastructure work you did, Omnimancer. I need to call an emergency council meeting to get this authorized, but I can’t imagine they’ll object to giving you money you’ve rightfully earned.”
Beatrix pulled back, a joyful cry slipping out. Peter looked astonished. Then he shook his head as if trying to fling out the what-if she had planted there. “That’s extremely good of you, Mayor, but I couldn’t?—”
“Oh, yes, you could. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Croft leaned in confidentially. “Also, I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t want to make an offer I was still trying to piece together, but it finally got there last night, so—the counties and towns hereabouts want to hire you as our collective omnimancer.”
She caught the fleeting look of pain on Peter’s face. That was exactly the job he’d wanted, and now he couldn’t take it.
Croft handed him an envelope. “You’ll find the details in there. I know you could make a lot more somewhere else,” he added apologetically, “but—well, we’d love to have you. Think about it and let me know.”
He shook Peter’s hand, gave Beatrix a smile and left. Back in the new brewing room, she slipped the envelope from his hands, opened it and read the letter aloud.
“‘Dear Wizard Blackwell: We are pleased to offer you the position of omnimancer of Howard and Carroll counties and the municipalities therein. We are prepared to pay a salary of $40,000 a year, not including the cost of brewing ingredients, which we will cover, and’—” She stopped, putting her free hand over her mouth.
“What?” he said, his question sliding out on a sigh.
“… ‘and we will set aside $15,000 annually for the cost of employing a brewing assistant of your choice,’” she murmured. It was more than she’d ever earned. “‘We hope you will accept.’”
“Good God, I wish I could.”
She marshaled her thoughts and took his hand. “Specify that you’ll accept under the condition that your duties are brewing only. That’s all it would take?—”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What? Why?”
“This doesn’t change anything. All my arguments still stand.”
She frowned at him. “If you’re thinking that what happened first thing this morning was a sign, I’ve got news for you—thisis the sign. We have an attorney who’ll help us, we have jobs, we even have two very generous donations—comeon, Peter, what more do you need?”
“You’ve never been as poor as I have,” he snapped. “Don’t blithely shrug off something you haven’t experienced, least of all how bad it would be for the child we might accidentally conceive.”
The urge to throttle him was growing by the second. “You promised to collaborate with me on our finances. Youpromised.”
“I also promised not to dictate your employment, and I expect you to do me the same courtesy!”
“I will sleep on the floor of our fuckingbathroomif I have to so you won’t accidentally fuck me in our fucking bed! How’sthatfor courtesy?”
