Page 7

7

Luna

T he groundskeeper’s cottage was perfect for me.

The bedroom was separate, but everything else was encompassed in a single room.

Plants of all kinds hung in baskets from the rafters, and a fire crackled in the stove.

When I was a girl, Mom would bring us here for vacation.

I hadn’t thought it strange then that we didn’t stay at the big house.

Instead, I’d imagined we were so special we couldn’t stay in the inn with everyone else—we required our own space.

Or maybe Darius hadn’t wanted to give away one of the paid rooms to his ex and disavowed daughter.

I sighed and put more wood in the stove before setting a pot of water for tea atop it.

The cupboards were full of mismatched dishware, and I pulled a bright red mug from the front of the stack.

I needed a plan before approaching Vincent at the newspaper office.

I may have decided to do it—to set aside my pride and approach the old fae for a favor—but my whole plan for the inn wouldn’t revolve around a single shot at getting attention in the popular column.

Cataloging and cleaning the inn, then executing my ideas about gaining new customers, suddenly seemed daunting.

I’d had suggestions for years, but finally, no one stood in my way to implement them.

Darius hadn’t even asked to see a plan.

He told me I had a modest budget and could do what I wanted.

It might be modest in his mind, but when I looked at the number, it was…

large.

Large enough that if I did the cleaning myself, I could invest the rest in my improvement ideas.

I’d need to go through each room today and determine what I could clean versus what might require professional assistance.

I had my notebook open on the table while the water boiled.

Sea air gave the place a fresh scent I couldn’t get enough of, but it did mean I left a window cracked all the time, no matter how cold it got.

I wrapped a knitted blanket around my shoulders and watched the pot for bubbles.

A cool breeze slipped in through the cracked window, and I wrapped the blanket closer.

The pattern was obnoxious, even to me—each square a different color, making it one of my loudest items—and I loved bright colors.

When we stayed here in my youth, Mom always had activities for us.

One year, we started this blanket.

Mom was a seamstress, so we made each square from materials she had left over from other projects.

She brought as many as she could reasonably travel with on our visits, and the tradition was born.

We’d only half finished by the time she passed, but I let the spirit of the idea live on.

The new seamstress in our village would sell me her scraps at a discount, and I added them to the pattern.

A few years after Mom was gone, I’d ended up with this finished piece, and I thought Mom would have liked how it turned out.

The bubble of boiling water pulled my attention back toward the stovetop.

The special moonflower tea blend I kept hidden was already on the counter.

Byrd didn’t believe that the flowers bloomed on the property, so he didn’t miss them, but I also wasn’t one to draw attention to the fact that I harvested them for tea.

The scent was immediately calming to my busy mind.

With a final deep breath, I had nothing else to stop me from making my list.

As long as everything was on the list, it could be done.

It didn’t matter how many items there were, they only needed to be prioritized.

I moved to the couch, letting the comfort of the blanket fall from my shoulders as I leaned forward to write.

Taking stock of the inn seemed as good a place as any to start.

If the office looked dirty to Darius, I couldn’t imagine how the guest rooms looked.

Byrd didn’t like me in the inn, so I hadn’t been through the rooms in years.

I wrote clean and inventory bedrooms on the list.

The library would need attention.

I hadn’t checked it yesterday, too distracted by my conversation with Darius.

It was a beautiful room leading to the back porch overlooking the sea.

I’d always felt it was underutilized.

Now that I was in charge, I needed to determine what that meant.

My instinct had always been to make it a breakfast area.

The inn didn’t serve meals.

Byrd had said there were plenty of restaurants in Sandrin.

This was true, but what about those earlier risers who wanted something comforting before heading out on their adventure for the day?

The other major inns all served breakfast.

It seemed a simple addition.

I need only decide what to serve.

I added explore breakfast options to the list.

Of everything on the property, I was most proud of the grounds.

They were the one thing I was allowed to maintain in my own way.

I’d ensured healthy flowerbeds around the inn and had maintained a usable path from the cliff down to the seaside beachfront.

It was over a hundred steps.

Visiting when I was younger, I’d realized not many guests knew about it and even fewer used it, but the water was a feature of Cliff House.

I loved going down there to listen to the sea crash against the rocks.

It was peaceful.

I knew I wasn’t the only one who would love it once I got guests here.

So much relied on bringing awareness to new customers.

I moved to another part of my list.

There were a couple of paths to get the word out.

“Benefits of Magic” was one option—it might be a long shot, but I would try.

Maybe Vincent would like this place.

He seemed to enjoy things and places that weren’t new but could be represented in a new light.

That was his angle with the Sweet Solstice Sip, the last clothing boutique, and even a furniture maker.

My cheeks flushed as I remembered Earl’s words from last night.

Maybe I was his biggest fan.

Wind whipped through the window crack, bringing the scent of sea and storm.

At least Vincent’s magic would like it here, if I could get him to the property.

I certainly hadn’t made the best first impression yesterday, but worrying about his reaction wouldn’t help.

Seraphina had also said I could put signs in the tavern.

I’d check with a few other taverns near the inroads to the city to see if they would allow the same.

If I couldn’t make a big splash with a feature like “Benefits of Magic,” it was best to catch the visitors as they arrived.

My list looked as complete as it could for now.

I’d expand on it when I determined what needed to be done in the guest rooms and the library.

I took my teacup and pulled the blanket around my shoulders again as I trekked through the woods to the inn.

The rooms were worse than I’d thought.

Byrd really must have given up, and I wondered why Darius hadn’t tried to sell the inn sooner, even though my heart wrenched at the thought.

I’d been through almost all the rooms, and while nothing was wrong with them other than the dust and dinge of disuse, they weren’t welcoming.

I hoped a good clean would help as I twisted the knob of the final door.

It was my last to review.

I stumbled into the door, realizing it hadn’t opened.

Tilting my head, confused, I tried again.

The handle turned, but the door didn’t budge.

I gave it a little shake.

The door seemed to mock me with its stillness.

I got down on my knees to peer in the keyhole.

It didn’t appear locked, but it was undoubtedly not opening.

I jiggled the handle once more, and nothing happened.

With my hands on my hips, I glared at the unmoving door.

I’d need to return to this one.

I noted its stubbornness on the list next to the room needing a small leak repaired.

I moved downstairs to the main floor, and a knock stopped me in my tracks as I passed the front door.

It couldn’t be that easy, right?

I hadn’t changed anything.

This couldn’t possibly be a customer.

I hurried toward the entry.

Whoever they were, I didn’t want them to think we were closed.

Upon opening the door, the last person I expected to see stood before me: Vincent Andiveron.

My heartbeat raced as I took in all the features Seraphina and I had labeled a paltry handsome last night.

He was a work of art, as stunning as the view from the back porch over the sea.

His wind must have knocked on the door for him because he was a few steps back, leaning against the porch rail.

Even in the casual pose, he was taller than me.

I hadn’t noticed yesterday.

Likely because I’d jumped into the water.

We were on even ground now, and I still tilted my head slightly to take him in.

He wasn’t big and bulky, but he looked strong, lithe, and even graceful as he appeared to await my assessment.

His thick brown hair had that just-tousled look that I was confident his wind helped with.

Since meeting him, his dark brown eyes had swept into my mind more than once.

Today, they didn’t hold the warmth I remembered.

I tracked their focus.

.

.

reminding me that I still wore my mismatched knit blanket around my shoulders.

He stared at it as if it offended him.

It likely did.

This was fine.

Of course, his deep brown jacket from last night had been freshly cleaned.

I held in an eye roll.

This was off to a great start.

“Hello, Vincent. Nice to see you again.”

His gaze pulled away from my offending garment to meet my eyes before he pushed from the porch rail, his spine straightening like he’d been slapped.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and all I could think was that my blanket wasn’t that bad.

Rationally, I knew the change couldn’t be from my clothing, no matter how off-putting, but I had no idea what I’d done.

How dare I.

.

.

greet him?

Silence wasn’t my strong suit.

So, I did the only thing I could—I invited him in.

He still hadn’t said anything, just stared at me icily.

Words flooded from my lips to fill the gaping space between us.

“I was heading to the library. Would you care to join me?”

If possible, this was going worse than last night, when a drink had ended up dripping down his face.

He would never agree to feature the inn in his column at this rate.

Yet, to my utter bewilderment, he nodded at my invitation and entered.

I guessed that made sense.

He had come here, after all, no matter what had changed in the last few seconds.

My mind reeled as it caught up with the scene.

Had I even told him my name yesterday?

How had he known where to find me?

I’d been so focused on the fact that I’d found out who he was—and what I needed to ask him—it hadn’t occurred to me that he might also be looking for me.

Gooseflesh covered my arms and neck, less comforting than when his wind had wrapped around my legs the other night.

I gestured for him to head down the hallway into the library.

This was an inn; anyone was welcome.

His audible gasp as the view from the library windows became apparent was my first sense of comfort.

If he could appreciate the beauty of this place, I could deal with whatever he was here for.

My hand swept to the plush leather chairs, offering him a seat.

Although they had seen better days, I still deemed them acceptable for a cozy library.

“Would you like some tea?” I asked hesitantly.

He looked unsure but nodded.

“Thank you.” His gaze still showed no warmth, but the tick of his jaw was gone.

I took that as a good sign.

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

“And I was hoping to talk to you,” I replied.

His shoulders stiffened again, and his brow furrowed as his gaze narrowed with suspicion.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Let me get the tea. I’ll be back momentarily.”

There was a small kitchen between the library and the main office.

It didn’t have much, but it was easy enough to find some tea.

I could almost imagine baking here.

Nothing too extravagant.

A few loaves of bread, muffins, maybe pastries.

It would be tight, but it could work.

I loved baking.

Perhaps I could do it and wouldn’t need to hire someone.

The ideas wouldn’t stop coming now that they’d started.

Guests first, I reminded myself.

The water boiled as I considered my current guest.

What could he possibly want?

The answer wasn’t going to appear in this kitchen.

I collected two mugs, poured the water, and rolled my shoulders back as I summoned all the confidence I had with my return to the library.

Vincent sat quietly where I’d left him, his gaze fixed out the window, on the sea.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked as he took the offered mug.

It seemed he was doing everything he could to avoid making eye contact with me.

I couldn’t help but remember Seraphina’s words from last night.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

Well, he certainly could now.

It was unclear if that was a point for me or not.

“This view is breathtaking,” he said as he thanked me again for the drink.

“It’s one of my favorite places on the property.”

“One of?” A touch of warmth flooded back into his gaze with the question, like maybe he couldn’t help himself, but I was reminded how quickly his mood seemed to change.

“I don’t think you came by to hear the list of my favorite locations at Cliff House. How did you know where to find me?”

He shrugged.

“Your boss mentioned your name last night when she called you. It didn’t take much searching after that.”

I took the seat across from him in another plush chair.

“And you’re a reporter. You couldn’t help but investigate.”

He flinched again at that.

“So...” I prompted.

He had found me first.

I couldn’t help thinking it would be better if he said whatever he came for before I asked for my favor.

Indecision was plain on his pale face.

And maybe regret?

He wrapped his long fingers around his mug.

“You go first.”

“Well.” That was easier said than done.

“I know we didn’t get off to the best start, but I wanted to ask you a favor.”

He seemed to steel himself for whatever came next, but the thin line of his mouth and the returning tick in his jaw said he was preparing himself for something truly awful.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You sure you’re up for the challenge?

Darius’s words echoed in my mind.

I had to try.

“Well,” I started again.

Setting down my mug on the end table, I lifted my hands.

“I can see you appreciate the beauty of this place. I need your help to save it.”

Vincent looked around the room, his gaze cautious.

“Save it? What’s wrong with it? ”

“It has no guests,” I clarified.

His eyes narrowed.

“I need more information. I thought you worked at the tavern.”

I forced a smile.

This was going better than I’d hoped.

“I work at the tavern, but I’ve also been groundskeeper here since moving to the city. I was recently promoted to manager. As you can see”—I waved my hands around us—“it’s quite empty. Even with the influx of travelers to Sandrin, no one has come to inquire about vacancy.”

His head snapped up.

“No one?”

I shook my head.

He was trying hard not to look interested.

His gaze roamed the room again, carefully avoiding mine.

It landed on the water outside the window.

“I can’t believe that, with this view.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but it’s true. The manager quit. He couldn’t take the failure.” I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Yesterday, as part of my apology, I’d told him it was my father I was angry at, not him, but it seemed too much to explain our history and what saving this inn would mean to me.

Vincent seemed to put some pieces together as his careful gaze slowly met mine.

The warmth was back.

“This is your father’s property,” he said cautiously.

“Yes.”

He appeared to understand what that meant.

He couldn’t know the details, but he apparently remembered the strain I’d mentioned between Darius and me.

More than that, he wasn’t shutting me down.

I swallowed thickly and reminded myself of my promise to be honest with him if I asked for this favor.

“He knows I’ve been interested in running it for years.” I forced the words out.

“If I can get it filled by Long Night, he’ll keep me as manager. If not, he’ll close and sell it.”

Vincent’s gaze was calculating.

He smiled in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he spoke.

Like what he was about to say was a joke at his expense, and he wanted to beat me to the punchline.

“You know who I am,” he offered.

“And you want me to recommend this place.”

I considered Daisy’s words from last night—that he didn’t take suggestions.

It couldn’t be this easy, could it?

Daisy knew him.

She wouldn’t have tried to scare me away.

His face was masked of any emotion.

He appeared carved from stone, for all I could read.

Maybe more telling, his wind hadn’t appeared since he’d entered the inn.

“Yes…” I said slowly, drawing it out.

The sharp lines of his face were momentarily drenched with disappointment.

Then, his expression quickly morphed back to calculating.

At least he hadn’t already declined.

I readied to fill the growing silence, but he spoke again.

“I need something from you, too. Maybe we can strike a bargain.”

In my nerves surrounding my request, I’d forgotten he wanted to discuss a topic of his own.

Now, he made it clear he wanted something of me as I did him.

Given my request, I couldn’t exactly be upset about that.

My heartbeat spiked as he let the silence hang between us.

His appraising gaze had words tumbling from my lips.

“What do you need from me?”

My mind roamed through the possibilities and came up with none.

He knew nothing about me.

What skills would I have that he required?

Then I remembered how he’d found me.

Seraphina had called my name.

Warning bells started ringing in my mind.

He was old fae.

He knew my name.

The only piece of information important to him would be…

my surname.

My fears were confirmed when he finally said, “I need your help on an article investigating your father.”