Deryn deliberately uncurled her fingers. Social media. All right.
“Fair point, I guess. Now, in the spirit of fair points, so is your question.” Deryn took a deep breath. A simple request from a local business owner was becoming more complicated by the minute. And she was still seething from being read as easily and as unflatteringly as this woman seemed to read her. “The answer to it is, however, less fair. To me, anyway.”
Paloma raised an eyebrow, and Deryn felt her stomach flip. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she knew what she was getting herself into.
Well, into the breach.
“You seem to be in need—though I have no idea why—of a girlfriend. And I need professional kitchen space for a few hours every day. Even if we both agree, it seems a bit…lopsided of a trade. For me.”
A little vertical wrinkle appeared on the otherwise pristine brow.
“You need a kitchen? The resort’s kitchen? Whatever for?”
Deryn strove to sound and look bashful. It was the least she could do.
“I am banned from my aunt’s?” She phrased it as a question and watched Paloma’s face light up with a sincere, full, and delighted smile. Deryn blinked and understood suddenly what all those shows of her childhood had been talking about when they dedicated hours to quicksand. She was sinking fast.
“Victoria banned you from the Tavern? Wait! Oh no… Hamuel and Hamantha?”
Okay, quicksand off for a second. Deryn exhaled loudly.
“It was a joke! Has everyone on this island seen it?”
Paloma laughed. A low, smoky sound, and Deryn crossed her legs. Quicksand back on.
“Serves you right, though, Ms. Crowhart. Your aunt takes great pride in that establishment. Rightfully so.”
“Are you going to read me the riot act, too? Because she already did. Rhiannon as well. Sort of. Ceridwen?—”
“I don’t believe for a second that Ceridwen Crowhart chastised you for swaddling ham.”
Deryn smirked.
“Perceptive, aren’t you? Well, they don’t put women on the cover of ‘50 Under 50’ if they aren’t perceptive. That’s a very nice cover picture of you, by the way.” Deryn nodded at the magazine pile on the coffee table. “Though I bet you made it onto the ‘30 Under 30’ and ‘40 Under 40’ lists as well.”
“I did.” The voice leveled to nothing at all. No expression, no intonation. Just two words. Had Deryn hit a sore spot? Why would making the most prestigious lists in business be a painful subject for anyone? The expression on Paloma’s face reminded Deryn of coals banked with embers, waiting to be brought to life, either for warmth or destruction. The woman was sheer restraint. Deryn’s Fire which knew none, reared its head like a dragon sniffing the air. They were such opposites, such contradictions… Deryn wondered how the Fates had decided that they belonged. Then she yanked her mind back to the conversation.
“Well, you’re right, Ceri did not scold me. She did more than her share of that twenty-five years ago when I was ten and chasing her chickens around the backyard. Or starting a fire by the fence.”
“Let me guess. Because the chickens wanted to walk in the forest, and you were doing them a favor by setting them free to explore?”
They both laughed.
“Something like that. Seren was the quiet kid. I was a handful. Ceri learned to pick her battles.”
“Councilwoman Crowhart sure does. No tilting at windmills for her. I’ve been watching her work the Town Council for months now. It’s been…an interesting experience.”
Paloma’s smile was razor-sharp, and Deryn’s chest swelled with pride.
“You are right that she works the Council, rather than works on the Council. She did the same back when we were children with our endearing, but still very dysfunctional, family.”
“I have a lot of respect for your sisters, Ms. Crowhart. And I find myself siding with your even more esteemed aunt on the ham incident. So, why do you need my kitchen?”
Deryn stood up and joined Paloma at the windows. The island was entirely engulfed in darkness now, the little dots of lights blinking on and off in the distance. She placed her fingertips on the glass, its cold surface centering her. She caught Paloma’s glance as the woman slowly dropped her own hand, which had been propped nearby.
“My career depends on visibility, Ms. Allende. And my social media is my channel to gain said visibility when I’m not filming or doing exhibitions. I post three or four recipes a week. I can’t do it from Ceridwen’s kitchen, even if she’d allow me the privilege. It’s an intimate place, a personal one, and she deserves that sanctuary to be protected. Rhiannon lives with Prudence now, so…” Deryn shrugged. The little apartment on top of the bookstore was too small anyway, not to mention how it now housed not just her sister and her fiancée but also a possum and a cat. Who were nesting. Deryn decided to follow her own advice and not bring up anything about the queer critters. Her family was weird enough to adore it. The rest of the world? Maybe not.
“Your twin sister has a magnificent kitchen at the Brew, Ms. Crowhart.”
