“Tory, my Queen, how many times did I tell you that tossing one’s salad is not something applicable here?” Lachlan undid the tarp on the right side of the sign and laughed down at them from the ladder. “We’ve talked about it.”
“Are you talking sex to my aunt?” Rhiannon still struggled for breath.
“He could talk sex to me any day. Twice on Sunday. I’ll skip church. I don’t think Reverend Lavalle would even mind.” Marsha batted her lashes at Lachlan.
“So many things wrong with this entire conversation.” Prudence leaned from Book’s Nest porch, biting into an apple. Rhiannon wanted to bite into her. She looked so good in her dungarees over a long-sleeved cotton shirt. “Lachlan, tossing one’s salad is not just a boy move, if that is what you were implying, you sexist. Marsha, Lachlan would rather talk sex to Jerry the big bear, and Reverend Lavalle would not understandyour obsession with talking sex to Lachlan on Sunday or on any day, since she has a wife back home. Oh, and Victoria? Try not to share Rhiannon’s and my bedroom activities with the whole town. Whether they do or not involve any salad tossing. Did I miss anything?”
Jerry’s face was a mixture of flattery and embarrassment, with curiosity thrown in. Marsha was clearly appalled. Rhiannon laughed so hard she could barely breathe, and Lachlan was now hanging from the ladder holding his abdomen. The crowd roared with jokes and laughter.
Once he got himself under control, Lachlan whistled, getting everyone’s attention, and pulled on the tarp and the sign was revealed, the words Crow & Cat gleaming on the wood and iron background. People cheered, and Prudence clapped. Rhiannon’s chest felt tight, not in a bad way, but in what resembled a longing, to be welcome, to belong. She did, though, didn’t she? She was here and would leave on her own terms. So why did this yearning whisper in her ear? Why did she look up at the wrought iron and feel like crying? It was beautiful. And it made her want…things she should decidedly not want at all. Things like staying.
Rhiannon looked around. People were curious. They pointed and talked animatedly about the shop and the name. Others undoubtedly whispered gossip about her and the Crowharts. That was fine by her, let them. And then let them come back and buy the books. And go to the Tavern for a meal. And drink coffee at the Brew after ordering flowers at Blossoms. Rhiannon recalled Lachlan’s question about her family being bourgeois. At the time it made her shrug. Now it made her proud. They created something here and she had been instrumental. She saw Jerry making himself scarce with Marsha still glaring at everyone, as Victoria beamed at the storefront and then at Prudence.
“Sassy this morning, Prudence Ophelia. I will go google that salad tossin’ thing and report back. And all of you better find something else to do than gossip about my niece in the middle of the damn day.”
Prudence finished her apple and wrapped the core into a napkin.
“I really don’t think anyone wants to know your browser history. Not even the FBI.” She winked at Victoria and then her eyes lingered on Rhiannon, still laughing. Her expression was pensive as she made her way back into her store.
As people dispersed, Lachlan jumped down from the ladder that had been barely holding him in the wake of all the shenanigans and gave Rhiannon a one-armed hug from behind. Then they simply stood in silence and looked up at the sign, periodically sighing in contentment.
“We did good here, boss lady.”
“We did, errand boy.” He poked her in the ribs and she giggled, surprising herself with the sound.
“I forgot that you could laugh like this, you know. Free.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s been a while. And here you are, laughing all morning.”
Rhiannon said nothing and just allowed the moment to settle around her. She’d remember this one. Goddess knew she didn’t want to be here. She had fought tooth and nail for every paper, every document, every lawyer and judge. Time and again she’d lost and was forced to take a step closer to Dragons. And she hated the place more.
She remembered the feeling of prying open the rusty lock on the front door and seeing nothing but cobwebs and dust inside. She didn’t think she would be on the island for one week, much less almost three months. Yet it was October on Dragons, and she was opening Crow & Cat and her orders were stacked high on her counter.
Rhiannon was yet to get all her tools set up in the shop, the potential commercial restoration projects piling up as Lachlan kept bookmarking possible ones for her, sending her at least three a day during their downtime.
She had been making very slow progress on the Compendium, and it was only intensifying her desire to finally pick up the bone folder and the repairs knife full-time again. She admitted to herself that she missed the acrid scent of the PVA glue. And the aged leather.
A cough from behind them was followed up by “Hey, I’m talking to you,” and both Rhiannon and Lachlan turned to face a disheveled and heavily breathing Lisa.
“Where do you think you get off on coming to the school and talking to my supervisor and getting me fired?”
Lisa took a step forward and Lachlan immediately shielded Rhiannon.
“I see, always hiding behind people. You didn’t have the guts to talk to me, so you tattled to my boss. Now you got a fag?—”
“You better not finish that sentence, Miss.” Rhiannon stepped in front of Lachlan and breathed in the sweat and alcohol radiating from Lisa. “As for speaking to anyone about you? I don’t even know your name.”
Lisa staggered back a full step, and Rhiannon took advantage to press on, walking her backward and down the street from her shop. This trouble needed to be far, far away from here.
“Have you spoken to Prudence recently?”
Lisa tilted her head, eyes widening.
“What?”
Rhiannon narrowed hers and repeated, enunciating each word.
“Have. You. Spoken. To. Prudence. Recently?”
“Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”
