As Deryn watched, Paloma led Marsha in the direction of the coffee shop on the corner of the Market Square, leaving the entire crowd staring after them.
“Well, she handled that perfectly. While you just stood there gawking, my girl.” Victoria dumped half of her packages in Deryn’s hands and turned toward the Tavern.
“And what was she supposed to do, exactly? Ms. Allende is a smart and strong woman who doesn’t need a knight in shining armor riding to her rescue.” Deryn almost jumped when Ceridwen appeared near her elbow, out of nowhere.
“Damn, are you a cat or something, Ceri?”
Ceridwen smiled at Deryn’s question. Victoria just shook her head, disappointment still distorting her features.
“She should’ve said or done something. I don’t know. Helped. I’ll tell her exactly what she should’ve done when I think of it. Now, before she names my cod and striped bass, let her help me carry them to the restaurant.”
“Are you still upset about the ham incident?” Deryn ventured a guess.
“I am not upset.” The answer came through Victoria’s gritted teeth, so Deryn chose to ignore it.
“You gained over two thousand followers off one tag alone, Aunt?—”
Victoria dropped the rest of the packages into Ceridwen’s extended arms; clearly, her elder sister knew a tirade was coming. Deryn winced. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. Hands on hips, Victoria took an attack stance only to startle when a gaggle of women nearly barreled her over. Giggling, fawning, and falling over themselves, they surrounded John Moss, who was smiling vaguely and vacantly at everything around him.
“Just surveying the splendid business that the good people of Crow’s Nest are bringing to the island. Ha ha. How about a glass of cider there?”
The man selling said cider—a burly, tall fellow Deryn did not recognize—extended him a big mug and shook his hand.
“Politics aside, Mr. Moss, I always figured you’d be a nice guy to share a pint with. Can’t say that about everyone now, can you?” He guffawed, and Deryn saw red. Just as she was about to tear his head off with an outburst or an uppercut—she had not yet decided which one—Ceridwen grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Don’t engage, Der. Plus, you causing a scandal is not going to be appreciated. See, even Victoria doesn’t care.”
“Oh, I care, but you can’t shut every yapping mouth. And this one is not just dumb, but also loud. Arguing with people about John Moss is not how you deal with him.”
Deryn wanted to ask how exactly Victoria thought John Moss was supposed to be dealt with, but her phone pinged in her pocket. She was surprised to see Ceridwen take out hers as well.
“You’re included in this one, Victoria. Aren’t you going to look?” Ceridwen handed the packages back and showed Victoria the phone screen.
“Now, why would I carry a phone on me, child? So that Rhiannon can find me and talk to me about some cat? I goddamn hope ‘come see a cat’ is not a euphemism. Give me my cod back, Deryn, and go help your wayward sister deal with that menace. Jesus wept, girls, how many brain cells are between you?”
Victoria moved on, leaving both Deryn and Ceridwen gasping for breath in her wake, trying not to laugh too loudly. Victoria crossed Market Square and John Moss and the burly vendor both choked on their drinks as she passed by. All Deryn saw was a discreet snap of her aunt’s fingers before the men spilled cider all over their shirts. The crowd laughed. Victoria continued briskly onward to the Tavern. Ceridwen shook her head and pulled on Deryn’s arm.
Rhiannon had indeed texted the family chat:Come see a cat. It also hadSOSin front of it, and since they were only a fewsteps away from the Book Nest, Deryn followed Ceridwen into the cozy store.
She had been inside a time or two back in the days of being a teen on the island, buying books for school or just browsing while her date picked out a novel. Her voracious reading appetite did not find her till her late twenties, when she discovered sapphic fiction—something she had never even considered to exist, since the world was so boringly heteronormative. Once she read a few sapphic novels, however, the floodgates opened. She was pleased to see entire rows of queer literature lovingly curated by Prudence right in the middle of the store.
She did not have time to browse though, as Rhiannon swooped down on her and Ceridwen the moment they crossed the threshold. They stopped so abruptly that Seren bumped smack into them as she ran through the door.
“What cat? What emergency? Is it some kind of code for something else, because I do not, under any circumstances, want to see?—”
“Oh, for crying out loud, I bet Victoria already made that joke.” Rhiannon glared and motioned for them all to follow her upstairs, where she shared a tiny apartment with Prudence while the Atelier was being renovated.
“She did make the joke, actually,” Deryn muttered, taking the stairs one at a time after Ceridwen. “And she’s not coming. Something about cod and striped bass.”
“Were you going to name those, too? Claude the Cod and Chaz the Bass?” Rhiannon smirked, and Deryn huffed out a breath.
“Those aren’t nearly half as good as Hamuel and Hamantha, and you know it. Also, what the hell, Rhy? Cat?”
“Actually, it’s cats. Plural.”
Rhiannon stopped in the middle of the tiny living room and turned to the fireplace, where a large feline—Boleyn—lounged in all her panther glory, flanked by Patches the Possum…and three kittens.
“Patches is a…father?” Deryn whispered, and everyone burst into laughter.
