“Two. Trolls will always try to entice you with sparkly trinkets, which they sell at exorbitant prices. Don’t fall for it. The good stuff is always out back or down below.”
“But that’s a one-room cabin,” I point out.
Catbeam waves away my objection with a spotty, wrinkled hand. “The quality merch could be in that shed back there behind the bungalow, which is protected with so many charms no one is breaking into it. Or the beady-eyed troll could be hiding the good stuff underneath a cabinet or beneath a loose floorboard.”
Catbeam gives me a curt nod and continues. “Three. Even if you find the perfect ring for Sophie, you need to walk away.”
“What?” I cry. “That’s the whole purpose of this trip! I want to surprise Sophie with an engagement ring for her birthday, and you told me the only place to go for unique, high quality jewelry at reasonable prices is Talo’s Pawnshop.”
“I know what I said, sonny, and that’s true. However, the only way to get what you want at a price we both can afford is if you follow those three simple rules.”
“What do you mean, at a price webothcan afford?I’llbe buying my fiancée’sring.”
Catbeam glances upward as if seeking inspiration from the old Caddy’s velour-upholstered ceiling. “Talo doesn’t deal in something as mundane as currency.”
“Then why are we here? I’m a werewolf; I can’t offer this troll any magic tricks… er, no offense.”
“None taken.” Catbeam nods.
“All I have to offer him is a razor-thin wallet and my werewolf strength.”
“And your superior sense of smell and your pleasant customer-service demeanor.”
“Why would a troll need any of that?” I’m becoming increasingly suspicious of my future grandmother-in-law.
“Talo doesn’t need any of those attributes, but I do.”
Giving Catbeam a sidelong glance, I remind myself of the very first rule Miss Dragonfly taught me about bargaining with faeries; don’t even try, because you’ll never win.
Huffing out a long sigh, I say, “What do you want from me, Miss Catbeam?”
Catbeam gives me a broad grin. “First of all, call me Granny. Secondly, I merely need a strong werewolf like you to help me organize Catbeam’s Comics ’N Games; you know, sort through boxes, move some shelves around, restack the merch, and general cleaning. And if a customer comes in while you’re at it, I’d expect you to help them find what they’re looking for.”
“What about my superior sense of smell; where does that come in?”
“Ah, well.” Catbeam grimaces. “A two-headed rat has taken up residence in the woods behind my shop; hesneaks inside whenever it rains, and I need your nose to help me sniff out his hidey-hole.”
“What are you going to do with him when you find him?” I’m not a fan of rats, but I don’t want to help Catbeam track down and decapitate any creature, however many heads it has.
“I’m going to trap him and sell him to the faerie circus; two-headed rats are extremely rare,” says Catbeam. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a faerie circus, but I let that slide.
“I’m already working at the café and the bakery,” I remind her. “Plus I mow Rob’s lawn and clip his hedges once a week. And I’m still taking classes at night for the firefighter’s certification exam. I don’t have much spare time.”
“I just need four hours a week from you until the job is done.”
Hmm… if Catbeam is even half as disorganized as my lovely bride-to-be, I fear the job will never be done. Recalling Miss Dragonfly’s warning about making deals with faeries, I realize I’m stuck between a boulder and a tree bole; I need Catbeam’s help if I’m going to find the perfect ring for Sophie. “I’ll donate four hours of my time every week for the next twelve consecutive weeks, at which point we will declare the job is done. In exchange, you will barter with the troll to purchase Sophie’s engagement ring. No ring, no deal.”
Catbeam tents her silver eyebrows at me. “I can see my sister taught you well. Fine,” she huffs, “four hours weekly for twelve weeks.”
“For the next twelveconsecutiveweeks,” I remind her.
She shrugs. “As you wish.”
“Let’s shake on it, shall we?” I extend my hand to her, which makes the transaction binding on both sides.
Catbeam shakes my hand with a small scowl. “Wow. Dragonfly really overshared, didn’t she?”
I smile. “Miss Dragonfly took pity on a naïve, half-dead werewolf. I can never repay her for all her kindnesses to me.”
