Page 21 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)

Chapter Nineteen

S loane

“The snakes are wearing bowties.”

Standing in my parents’ foyer, I stare at Thad—specifically at his snakes, each one sporting a tiny silk bowtie in varying shades of blue. Even Sterling has one, though he can’t tear his eyes from the hallway mirror as he admires the effect.

“Sebastian’s idea.” Thad shifts uncomfortably. “Said something about making a good impression. Apparently, proper accessories are important for family dinners.”

“They’re adorable.” And they are, especially when several snakes try to strike dignified postures. “Though Sterling seems a bit too pleased with himself.”

“When isn’t he?” But his voice holds unmistakable fondness. “You should have seen the production of getting them all dressed. Like herding cats, but with more hissing.”

Before I can respond, my mother wheels into the foyer. “Oh! The bowties are adorable! Charles, come see this!”

My father emerges from his study, pausing at the sight of a six-foot-four Gorgon trying very hard to look non-threatening while wearing snake accessories.

“Mr. Mayor.” Thad extends his hand, careful not to move too quickly with his still-healing back. “Thank you for having me.”

Dad eyes the offered hand, then the snakes, then the obvious care Thad is taking to appear nonthreatening. After a moment that feels eternal, he reaches to shake Thad’s hand.

“Those are very… nicely coordinated bowties,” he manages, holding back a bemused smirk.

“Thank you, sir. My brother’s influence. He’s the fashionable one.”

“The librarian,” Mom says brightly. “With the storytime dreams! You must tell us about growing up together. Charles, didn’t you say the library’s children’s program numbers are up since he started?”

Something in Dad’s posture relaxes slightly. “Yes, actually. Highest attendance in years.”

“Sebastian’s good with kids. Always has been.”

“And you teach swimming?” Mom wheels toward the dining room, gesturing for us to follow. “Though I heard there was a recent… incident with Pilates?”

“Mom!”

“What? Dorothy tells me everything.” She winks at Thad. “The Silver Swimmers are quite invested in your recovery.”

“Of course they are.” Thad’s voice holds resigned amusement. “They’re probably taking bets on when I’ll be back in class.”

“Next week,” I say firmly. “After proper medical clearance.”

The dining room table is meticulously set—fine china, crystal glasses, and what appears to be every serving dish we own. Mom’s clearly gone all out.

“I wasn’t sure about dietary preferences,” she admits as we sit. “So I had Maria make several options.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’m not—” Thad starts.

The doorbell interrupts.

“I’ll get it!” our housekeeper Maria calls, but she’s too late.

Bradley Harrington III stands in the dining room doorway, wearing his most expensive suit and most insincere smile.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, though clearly that’s exactly his intent. “Charles mentioned dinner, and well, old habits.” He shrugs in the least genuine gesture of nonchalance I’ve ever witnessed.

My father has the grace to look uncomfortable. “Bradley, I don’t think—”

“Nonsense! Looks like there’s plenty of food.” Bradley moves to the empty chair beside me, then freezes.

Sterling, most dignified in his navy bowtie, has bowed up in an about-to-strike position, and his mouth is open in an aggressive hiss.

“I believe,” Thad says mildly, “that seat is taken.”

Every one of his snakes now adopts Sterling’s posture, and I must say, it just might be more intimidating than Thad’s invisible enforcer powers.

“And look.” Mom’s eyes sparkle with barely contained laughter. “The table is only set for four. Bradley, perhaps another time?”

“But—”

“Another time,” Dad says firmly, and something in his tone suggests he’s finally choosing sides. “Maria, please show Mr. Harrington out.”

After Bradley leaves with no lack of eye daggers, there’s a moment of silence. Dad slowly shakes his head, a bemused expression crossing his face. Then Mom bursts out laughing.

“Oh, that was brilliant! Their adorable bowties didn’t even slip! Did you teach them that trick specifically for dinner parties?”

“Actually,” Thad admits, his own lips twitching, “they improvised. They’re quite… protective of the woman I’m so fond of.”

Dad clears his throat. “Yes, well. Perhaps we should discuss this security consulting business of yours? The committee is quite interested in having professional protection during the Revelation Day events.”

The snakes straighten attentively.

“Of course,” Thad agrees. “That would be, um, great.”

As dinner progresses, something shifts. Dad asks genuine questions about enforcer history. He even expresses interest in how my blog has grown, with its readership tripling each week and monster communities from neighboring towns reaching out with their stories.

“Your writing is making an impact,” Dad admits, surprising me. “People are responding to authentic voices. That’s something even I can appreciate, despite my initial concerns.”

Mom shares stories about the strange occurrences she now realizes were monster protections. Thad relaxes enough to let his snakes’ personalities show, much to everyone’s amusement.

“Oh,” Mom says during dessert, “how are Sebastian’s wedding plans progressing? I imagine coordinating a Gorgon ceremony has unique considerations.”

“They’re keeping it simple,” Thad replies. “Though the Silver Swimmers have volunteered to handle decorations. Between you and me, Sebastian’s terrified they’ll turn it into a themed event.”

By dessert, Sterling is demonstrating his most businesslike security poses for Dad.

“They’re not what I expected,” Dad admits quietly as we finish our coffee. “The snakes, I mean. Or you,” he adds to Thad. “The stories about enforcers always made you sound…”

“Scarier?” Thad suggests.

“Less…” Dad gestures to where Sterling is now teaching Mom’s service dog to bow. “Personable.”

“Times change.” Thad’s hand finds mine under the table. “Sometimes for the better.”

Looking around the table—at Mom’s bright eyes, Dad’s thoughtful expression, and Thad’s snakes creating an impromptu fashion show with their bowties—I have to agree.

Because sometimes the scariest dinner invitation leads to the best possible outcome.

Even if it takes a few dramatically protective snakes to make it happen.