“Oh, right.”
“How do you get along with Ro—with your mom?” Claribel became absorbed in twirling the spaghetti noodles around her plate.
“All right, I guess. She’s a bit . . . remote.” This conversation had turned in an unexpected direction. She thought Claribel would want to talk of nothing but fairies after telling her of the voices. And Skye was certain that the voices and the fairies were connected.
“Is she alone now that you and your brother are at school?”
“Yeah, she likes it that way.” Skye pictured Mom lying on the couch devouring books the way some women savored chocolate. “Plus, Mom works long hours at her florist shop.” Skye swept a hand at the dozens of plants sitting forlornly throughout the room, all in various stages of vegetative decomposition. “As you can see, I didn’t inherit her green thumb. If she ever comes to visit, I’ll have to replace all the plants she gave me.”
“Books and flowers only take you so far. She’s in the prime of her life. I would think she’d have gentlemen friends.”
Skye shrugged. “I think she soured on men since the divorce.”
“Oh, I see.” Claribel nodded, a knowing look on her face.
“See what?”
“She prefers women.”
Skye nearly choked on a large meatball. “No, that’s not what I meant.” She downed more soda. “She’s a loner, period.”
“If you say so.”
Skye groaned inwardly. Obviously, Claribel either didn’t believe her, or thought she was naive. Whatever.
“You know, Skye, I really appreciate your work at the store. I’m aware Glenna hasn’t been pulling her fair share.”
“Why do you keep her?” Skye asked curiously.
Claribel waved a hand dismissively. “She’s the daughter of an old family friend. Anyway, Delia and I were talking today and we decided to offer you a supervisory position if you’re interested. I know you have classes so I promise it won’t be any more hours on your schedule.”
A burst of pride blossomed in her chest, then wilted. Glenna and some of the other and part time workers might not like it.
“What, exactly, would my new duties be?”
Claribel chuckled. “Don’t worry. We won’t make you give orders to Glenna and the others. Mainly we want someone we can trust to open and close the shop if one of us is unable to be there. Maybe handle some office paperwork occasionally. Of course, we’ll pay you extra. Are you interested?”
No doubt she could use the money. “Thanks, Miss Claribel. I accept.”
Claribel put on a pair of white cotton gloves, then reached into her oversized velvet patchwork handbag and pulled out a set of keys. “We were hoping you’d say yes so I brought along an extra set of keys to the shop.”
Skye took them and nodded at Claribel’s gloved hands. “Are you cold in here? I turned up the heat tonight for you.”
“Old age and arthritis,” she said with a shrug. “My hands and feet are always cold.”
Skye pocketed the keys. This proved they trusted her, now would be the right time to do the same. She got up from the table and went to the living room where she’d put the hagstone. It was surprisingly warm to her touch and her fingers closed over it possessively. She turned and saw Claribel had followed her. Skye bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Claribel was doing some kind of bizarre, shuffling dance to music only she could hear. Arms raised, her hands fluttered in the air to some invisible melody. She had pulled a fairy wand from her bun and waved it in the air like a music conductor. Her gray curls were loose and flowing, her eyes closed, her tiny feet took mincing turns.
“Miss Claribel, are you okay?” Skye managed to say evenly.
She blinked in surprise. “Oh, sorry. I swear I can feel Fae energy here. Do you sense it too?”
Skye hesitated, the hagstone a warming presence in her hand. No, she couldn’t do it. Sharing the hagstone might send Claribel right over that edge from eccentric to certifiable.
Chapter 7
Blue Energy
“The key,” Finvorra repeated, hand outstretched.
Kheelan sighed and laid the key in his Guardian’s hand, tried to brace himself for what was to come. The punishment would be severe. Reading their secret texts was no minor infraction. Just last month Finvorra had taken away his sense of sight for two days for not having enough fairy ointment of crushed four-leaf clovers and morning dew on hand. The time before that, Finvorra had made him mute an entire week for daring to complain about his workload. Kheelan steadied his face to a stoic mask and kept it carefully blank. It was best to show no fear; he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.