Enchantment Emporium

by Tanya Huff

  She smiled at the thought. Graham looked startled for a moment, then smiled back.

  “So are you having the muffins?”

  When she turned back to the counter, a pair of big red mugs filled with coffee waited by two empty plates although she hadn’t heard Kenny move-not to take the mugs from the rack, not to fill them at the urns. He held a pair of tongs over the muffin baskets.

  “Yes,” Graham answered for them both. “We are. Thank you.”

  While he paid, Allie carried both mugs and plates over to the most isolated of the small tables by the front windows. “I waitressed in a bar while I was in university,” she explained as he joined her, brows up at the display of plate shuffling. “Right kind of place and I still get the urge to clear tables and refill coffees. Charlie says I do it deliberately to embarrass her.”

  “That your cousin, the musician, in Brazil.”

  “That’s her.” She could see him filing away the whole Charlie’s a her thing.

  But all he said was, “You don’t seem the bar waitress type.”

  “Well, Michael got the job first. He was bartending and when one of the girls quit…” She’d quit because Allie had wanted to be with Michael and had been more than willing to arrange things to get it. She was a little embarrassed about that now. Right now. Which was strange because she never had been before.

  “Michael’s an old boyfriend?”

  “Michael’s… it’s complicated.”

  “Yeah, I have a couple of those, too. So…” Graham took a long swallow of coffee-two cream, two sugars-and pulled out a small black notebook. “Let’s talk about why your grandmother decided to open a store in Calgary so far from the rest of her family.”

  Allie shrugged. “Things are happening here.”

  “Seriously.”

  “She told you that, that she was far from her family?”

  “She did.” He wore a “trust me” face. Allie might have trusted him more if he hadn’t been so obviously wearing it over his actual expression. He was good, though; she couldn’t see beneath it. “It must have come as a huge shock to you when she died.”

  “It did.”

  “What happened to the body?”

  Allie froze, a piece of muffin halfway to her mouth. “The what?”

  “Your grandmother’s body. When there’s a death, there’s a body. I wondered what happened to it. Was she buried here or back home?”

  Or eaten by dragons. Allie had to bite back an inappropriate desire to giggle. “We have a family burial plot back home.”

  “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

  “Which wasn’t exactly about the store.”

  “Background information.”

  “About someone who no longer has anything to do with the store.”

  Graham acknowledged the point with a nod and drank a little more coffee. Allie watched muscles move in the tanned column of his throat and met his gaze with nothing more than a lifted brow when he caught her at it. He brushed his hair back off his face, although it didn’t really need brushing, and checked his notes. “So your grandmother left you the store; does she own the building?”

  “She said she did.”

  “But you haven’t seen the paperwork?”

  Allie shrugged so he could watch the motion. Fair was fair. “I don’t even know where the paperwork is,” she admitted. “That’s remarkably blonde, isn’t it?”

  “A little,” he admitted in turn. “And I don’t think ignoring the legalities is something even you can get away with.”

  “Even me?” she purred, leaning forward.

  A flash of something that might have been annoyance at the slip, but it was gone too fast for her to be certain. “A beautiful blonde.” He reached across the table and lifted the end of her braid out of her coffee.

  He waited for her to laugh before he did. She liked that. A lot. And she was a little afraid of how much she liked his laugh, so she fumbled her phone out to hide her reaction. Some of her reaction.

  “Do you mind? This’ll only take a minute, but you’re right and I should get it dealt with.” When he nodded, she called Roland and repeated Graham’s point, or possibly points, about the paperwork.

  “You’re talking to a reporter?”

  “Get past that.”

  “Okay…” She could hear definite speculation in the pause and thanked any gods who might be listening that he wasn’t likely to repeat that speculation to the aunties. “He’s right.”

  “I already told him that.”

  “I take it you’d like me to deal with it?”

  “If you can.”

  “No problem. In fact, you couldn’t have called at a better time since I can be out there in a couple of days. My boss is retiring, leaving me temporarily unemployed.”

  “Retiring?” Alan Kirby had always struck her as more the “die in the saddle” type, Matlocking his way through increasingly lame court cases until one of his clerks finally noticed he’d started to decay.

  “The aunties suggested it.”

  That made more sense. The aunties had probably also suggested an alternative.

  “I’ll pass on the details,” Roland continued, “when I’ve booked the flight.”

  “You don’t mind leaving home?” She’d expected to send the information to him.

  “Right now, I think being away from home would do me good.” His voice had picked up a definite edge. It wasn’t always easy being among the cosseted few.

  “If they give you any trouble…”

  “I’ll have them call you.”

  “Thanks, Rol. Cousin,” she explained, closing the phone. “He’s a lawyer. He’s flying in to deal with it.”

  “You have a lot of cousins.”

  “How do you figure? I’ve only mentioned two.”

  “It’s the way you say cousin like it should be obvious.”

  Okay, she’d give him that one. “You’re right. I have a lot of cousins.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  So stupid to miss sisters she’d never had. “Just an older brother.You?”

  “I had six and two sisters.” Graham dropped his crumpled napkin on his empty plate and frowned, like he was trying to remember. Not an obvious movement, but Allie caught it. “They uh, they died with my parents when I was thirteen. Fire. I wasn’t home; everyone else was.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I, uh, I have a fair number of cousins myself, though.” He shook the sadder memories off with what looked like the ease of long practice, as though so terrible a thing had happened to someone else, and Allie thought that was almost worse than the memory itself. “Lots of aunts and uncles. My father’s family was huge; eight of them survived to have kids of their own, and I expect by now those kids have kids.”

  “You expect?”

  “We’re not close.”

  “How often do you see them?”

  Graham frowned again. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t see them often?”

  “I don’t see them at all. Not since I left for university.” He seemed to be reaching for a memory, didn’t quite get there, and shook off the attempt with a wry twist of his mouth. “But then most of them are still in Blanc-Sablon. The town in Quebec where I was born.”

  “ Quebec? You don’t sound French.”

  He smiled then. “I can, but it’s a cheap imitation accent. In spite of what the rest of Canada thinks about rural Quebec, most of the people where I’m from are English speakers.”

  “And they never call? You never call them?”

  “Like I said, we’re not close.”

  In twenty-four years, Allie had never gone an entire day without talking to at least one member of her family. There’d been days when she hadn’t gone twenty-four minutes. “Ever think of starting a family of your own?” she asked absently, tracking the breadth of his shoulders.

  Graham’s expression seemed to be asking where that had come from. Allie was wondering the
same thing. In spite of the shoulders. “I haven’t, no.”

  “So you don’t want kids?”

  “Actually…” From the outside, it seemed as though he’d found something unexpected tucked into a forgotten corner of his head. “Actually, yeah, I do. Not eight, but I always figured I’d have a few. What about you?”

  “Not eight,” she agreed, smiling. “So, your family…” His eyes shuttered again and although she didn’t want him to close off, she couldn’t let it go. Family was everything to a Gale. “Your family is farther away than mine.” The pull of distance remained a steady ache. “Why move so far from home?”

  “My boss at the paper is an old mentor of mine. He was the reason I managed to get to university, to get out of Blanc-Sablon-which is a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong…” A raised hand cut off questions she hadn’t intended to ask. “… but I was on my own and wanted to see the rest of the world. When he offered me a job, I took it.”

  There was an obvious truth to what he’d just told her, like he didn’t think he needed to lie. In contrast to when he spoke about his family, when he spoke about his mentor/boss, it almost sounded rehearsed; spilling out freely as if she’d charmed him. She hadn’t, although she’d certainly thought about it during those moments she’d been alone with his muffin. And wow, that sounded dirty.

  She was half tempted to toss out, “Did you know we have dragons?” just to see what he’d say. She didn’t. She wasn’t that lost in his eyes.

  Then he frowned and reached into his pocket to pull out his own phone, still vibrating. “It’s my boss. I have to take this.”

  Eavesdroppers might never hear good of themselves, but Allie, sketching patterns against the white Formica tabletop in a bit of the coffee she’d wrung from her braid couldn’t hear anything at all beyond the low murmur of a male voice. Graham had turned to put his body between her and the phone, much as she had the night before. Nothing more than an obvious move to gain a little privacy in close quarters but, given the distance, it seemed to be enough to block her.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her as he hung up, “but I have to go. Something broke on a big story we’re following, and I need to take advantage of it.”

  Again, no lie in his voice. Of course she hadn’t lied to him either. “Hey, I understand about doing the job.” She stood when he did, wiping out the pattern with the napkin. “I used to be gainfully employed.”

  “And now?”

  She surprised herself by her answer. “I honestly don’t know.”

  He paused, half turned toward the door. Apparently, she’d surprised him, too. “I’d like to continue this. Dinner?”

  About to say yes, she remembered. “I can’t tonight. We’re open until midnight.”

  “I can’t tonight anyway. Story.”

  “Right.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “That would be great.” Then he actually held the door open for her. She’d have gone through it also except Kenny called her to the counter.

  “Watch this one,” he said quietly. “He prefers to drink his coffee black, but he put milk and sugar in.”

  “Okay…”

  “He is not honest with you.”

  Yes and no, actually. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Probably not at my age,” he snorted and pushed a take-out cup across the counter. “For Joe, triple triple. Waste of decent coffee. I never played hockey, but you still owe me $2.79.”

  Graham walked her back to the store but didn’t go in. “I have to go.”

  “So you said.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I should get inside. Joe’s coffee…”

  “Yeah.”

  The door opened, and Joe leaned out. “Is that for me?” he asked pointedly.

  When Allie handed it to him, he stayed where he was.

  Graham glared for a moment, but since Joe was staring fixedly at the sidewalk, it wasn’t very effective. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said at last. “Six thirty?”

  “Terrific.”

  “Casual.” When she raised a brow, he grinned. “I’ve heard women like to know. It’s a shoe thing.” He was walking away before she remembered the charm on the door. Which didn’t work if she was on the same side of it he was. By the time she got inside, it was too late.

  “I sold a couple of yoyos when you were gone,” Joe told her. “One of the glow-in-the-dark ones and one of the little ones. Oh, and some old lady bought some saucers for her sprites.”

  “She’s drinking soda pop out of a saucer?”

  “No, sprites.You know, about yea big…” His thumb and forefinger were around five centimeters apart. “… double wings, not really good for sweet fuck all but looking cute, and they’ll eat you out of house and home if you let them.” He sucked back a mouthful of coffee like he needed it. “She’s got seven. I think she expected me to care. So you’re going to dinner with him tomorrow?”

  Still thinking about the sprites, Allie just barely managed to make the lateral move to her personal life. “I am.”

  “Just dinner?”

  “None of your business, Mom.”

  He flushed and ducked his head. “Just, you’ve got no family here and…”

  “It’s okay.” How cute was an overprotective leprechaun? “And there’s family coming. My cousin Charlie’ll be here early tomorrow and my cousin Roland’s coming in next week.”

  “Oh.” Pale skin went paler, the freckles standing out. “Then I guess, I… uh…”

  When he started to move toward the door, she understood, reached out, and gently took hold of his arm-all skin and bones and oversized sweater. “Joe, Charlie’s a musician and Roland’s a lawyer. They’re not here to help in the store. I’ll still need you.”

  “I don’t…”

  So many fears unfinished.

  “I know. Hey, I made almond cake last night, want some?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’ll it make me do?”

  She grinned. “Gain weight.”

  They spent the next few hours in companionable silence as Joe sorted through a few boxes filled with the jumbled debris of a stranger’s life and Allie continued to build her catalog, inventing categories as she went.

  About an hour after lunch, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor staring at a small painting of a seascape and wondering if she could really see the waves move or if the dust and mold had started to cause hallucinations. She glanced up when the door opened and saw a small man of indeterminate age dressed in a dark green suit step into the store and head for the counter. The word dapper popped into her head uninvited as she stood. No question of where it had come from; it fit the little man perfectly.

  So did supercilious and disapproving.

  She could only see his profile, but from the way a muscle jumped in his jaw, she’d bet his teeth were clenched and his lips pressed into a thin, pale line. Wondering what had climbed up his ass and died, she’d taken a single step toward him when he snapped out a word definitely not in English-nor covered by high school French-and Joe growled, “Fuck you.”

  Allie knew bravado when she heard it. “Joe?”

  The little man turned toward her and she saw the weight of centuries in his eyes. Unlike Joe, who looked Human with only a faint overlay of not, this guy was not!Human all the way through. His slow inspection-head to toe and back again-was clearly intended to intimidate. “So you’ll be the new Gale, then?”

  His accent was Joe’s distilled and filtered through a peat bog by way of a box of Lucky Charms.

  “And you are?”

  “Sure and I was Catherine Gale’s accountant, and if you’re the new Gale in her place, then I’ll be seeing to your numbers as well-but I’ll not work around the likes of him. Blood traitor!” Color began to rise in his face as he turned his attention back to Joe, spitting out a long line of invective, tone providing sufficient translation.

  Joe gripped the edge of the counter, fingertips white, lower lip caught between his teeth, breath beginning
to quicken.

  As the little man began to surge forward, Allie slid between him and the counter.

  He stared up at her in astonishment. “You don’t understand, Gale. He has been Called and he does not answer! Roaming about free in the MidRealm indeed! I have every right to force him home.”

  “No, you don’t understand Gales. Get out.”

  The silence that fell was so complete she was pretty sure both members of her audience had momentarily stopped breathing.

  The little man recovered first. “You can’t…”

  “Yes…” She used the edge on her voice to cut him off. “… I can.”

  “Allie, it’s okay. I can go.”

  She gentled her voice for him. “There’s no need, Joe.”

  “Do you dare, Gale-child? Do you know who you are dealing with?”

  Allie knew the power of age; immortality didn’t intimidate her. Very much. “My grandmother’s accountant.”

  He bristled and jabbed a pale finger past her toward Joe. “I see your marks on him.You would dare to take control from the Courts? You would truly choose that, then?”

  “Have chosen. And it’s him, not that. And he has a name. And a place. You, on the other hand, are not wanted here.” She called up Auntie Jane’s best don’t make me come over there expression. “I’d prefer to say good-bye and nothing more, but we both know there’s more I could say.”

  All his attention shifted suddenly to her, lifting the hair off the back of her neck. “You would dare?” he demanded incredulously.

  In spite of the way her heart had lodged up somewhere in her throat, she managed a fairly nonchalant shrug. “Your choice.”

  “No, your choice, Gale-child.” His upper lip curled exposing stained teeth. “Your grandmother would not approve.”

  “My grandmother isn’t here.” Auntie Jane’s expression slid off, leaving no buffer between them. “I am.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then he snorted. “So you are. My debt to your family is cleared by my leaving.” He nodded once, turned, and walked to the door. Outside, he paused to give her a long look at his true shape before he strutted off into the west.