"And we're brigade-ish," Asher continues, warming to his theme. "We brigade. We're brigade-ing right now."
"Dude, that's not a verb," Orion says.
"It is now. I'm making it a verb. Brigade, brigaded, brigading."
Eliza's lips twitch into something almost resembling a smile. Whether it's watching how Orion and Asher interact or thesuggestion about the name, I'm not sure. I think it's seeing her nephew happy for a change.
"The Life and Death Brigade," I repeat. "It's dramatic enough to sound official, yet casual enough not to take ourselves too seriously."
"And it's way cooler than the Justice League," Rowan adds.
I take another sip of water, letting the name roll around in my head.The Life and Death Brigade. “All right, let’s put it to a vote. All in favor?"
All hands go up.
"Motion carries." Asher pumps his fist. "The Life and Death Brigade is officially official!"
The celebratory pie sits between us on the table—apple for me, cherry for Asher—and the sugar rush has both of us riding high on the kind of giddy energy that comes from suddenly having more money than we know what to do with.
"I'm just saying," Asher gestures with his fork, a chunk of cherry filling wobbling precariously on the end, "you could buy so many dogs right now. Like, all the dogs."
"Why would we get more dogs when we already have the best two dogs in the whole world? No other dogs could live up to their pupper perfection."
"First of all, fair, they are perfection. Second, because you're rich now. Rich people have weird hobbies. You should lean into it."
I scoop up a bite of apple pie, the crust flaking perfectly under my fork. "I'm pretty sure adopting excessive amounts of dogs doesn't count as a hobby. That's a cry for help."
"Potato-potahto."
Marty materializes at our table with the coffeepot, topping off both our mugs. He's a wall of a man—ex-trucker turned diner co-owner and hubby—with a magnificent beard and a collection of sassy coffee mugs that cut deeper than any blade. "You two are awfully cheerful today. What'd you do, win the lottery?"
"Pretty much," Asher says around a mouthful of pie.
I take a sip from my mug and let the java kick warm me down to my bones. "We sorted out the Hallowind estate stuff. I'm officially home and in control of my life again."
Marty nods approvingly, a smile tugging at his beard. "Good for you, kid. Tanner will be jazzed to hear it."
I glance toward the pass-through window into the back. "What's Tanner up to? He usually pops his head out to say hi."
"He's fussing over a new biscuit recipe. If you play your cards right, there might be a dozen or two 'trial runs' for you to take home when you leave."
Asher gasps. "I heart you hard, big man. Like big, manly love."
He snorts and heads back toward the counter, where Tanner's visible through the kitchen window, bent over whatever he's working on with the focus of a surgeon. "I heard that, Hendrix. Stay away from my man."
Asher laughs. "You can buy me off with baked goods. I'm shallow that way."
"Done. I can't compete with your Ken doll, surfer-boy looks."
Asher laughs harder, and it does my heart good. He came to Emberwood for me, but he's building his own relationships and becoming part of the Emberwood landscape on his own merits.
When Marty's out of earshot, he leans across the table and grins. "Okay, back to you being loaded. What do you think about the two of us going over to Pete’s Mercantile and blowing a wad on dog purses and tiny sunglasses? Then we could Paris and Nicole the shit out of Emberwood."
I blink. "I don't see that happening, no."
"Okay… what about a boat? We could be Professor and Marianne."
I laugh. "Why would I buy a boat? We're nowhere near an ocean."
