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Perfect. Maybe Rune will finally have time to start my training sessions. Over the past week, he’s been so busy with Sebastian, I’ve barely seen him.
With any luck, we can explore fighting techniques with a hands-on approach.
The way my mind takes off with that idea—it’s a different wrestling match I’m envisioning with the Viking—a pants-off kind of match.
I’m still picturing Rune naked when I return to the storefront downstairs. There’s a woman standing at the counter, and I flush as if she can see the naughty images flashing behind my eyes.
She’s a dark-skinned Cajun witch with an intimidating severity about her.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
“Oh riiight.” Rune snaps his fingers as he follows behind me, trying and failing to look innocent. “I was supposed to tell you a customer came in and is waiting for you. My bad.”
I pat him on the arm and frown. “Poor old man. That’s what happens when your brain is hundreds of years old—you start forgetting things.”
Rune scoffs, feigning insult. “That’s just rude.”
The woman pegs me with a scowl and stiffens. “What’s rude is leaving a paying customer unattended for ages while you cavort upstairs with a vampire brute.”
Woah. Who swapped her morning coffee for the Folgers Instant Bitch blend?
“That’s my fault.” Elara descends the stairs and swoops in to save the day with her cheery, sing-song voice and contagious smile. “What can I get you today, Francine?”
Elara’s arrival does nothing to temper Francine’s foul mood. The scowl on her face remains plastered in place. “I came for the order I made last week,” she says, her voice just as unpleasant as her demeanor. “You said you would have it ready at four o’clock today. That was over thirty minutes ago.”
“Right, of course. It’s all packed and ready to go. Let me get it for you.” Elara disappears into the back room, leaving the three of us staring at each other in an awkward stretch of silence.
Francine’s stare bores a hole in the center of my forehead, but I keep my gaze focused on the door leading to the back room, waiting for Elara to return and save me.
I prefer the behind-the-scenes side of things. Grand-Mère handled the clients at the funeral home. She was better at the people side of things.
Computers, and finances, and bookkeeping—not so much. That’s where I came in.
That’s all I’m comfortable doing here.
“Sooo…” As Rune stretches the single syllable, I just know the next words out of his mouth will cause me some kind of headache.
“I’ve got it right here.” Elara grunts as she heaves forward a trolley stacked with boxes through the door, Tavor riding on the top looking proud of himself.
Thank Gaia for perfect timing.
“That’s a huge order,” I comment, thankful for something to bridge the gap. “Are you doing a yearly restock?”
Francine’s cold demeanor doesn’t budge. I’m starting to think this is her usual mood. “It’s for the masquerade ball.”
“It was a challenge to get this many flowers blooming on such short notice, but Tavor and I got the job done. And with time to spare, right bud?”
The ferret squeaks, jumping from the top box onto Elara’s shoulders, then her head while she punches the order into the register.
Francine pops the top box open and lifts out a single delicate flower. Her mood lifts as she admires the blooms. “Beautiful as always, Elara. These will be stunning in the ballroom.”
I sigh. “Grand-Mère used to tell me stories of the grand parties held here. As a kid, I dreamed of going to a New Orleans Masquerade.”
“They are legendary,” Elara says.
“For my eleventh birthday, Grand-Mère surprised me with a frilly pink and blue gown she made herself. It was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Then we made masks that sparkled like the stars and danced the night away.”
My voice catches, and I pause to push back the bittersweet tears that threaten to choke my words. “I felt like a princess in that dress. I didn’t want to take it off, but Grand-Mère made me after the fourth day.”
