“Bring the dear thing some food,” Magnolia suggested. “Doesn’t your mother let you eat at all?”
Darla wanted to protest that she’d already had not one, but two breakfasts, but Magnolia didn’t let her, waving Chef away imperiously.
Magnolia leaned forward, and the table gave a moan under her weight as the chair creaked ominously. “Now Darla, darling,” she said in a voice that wouldn’t carry past their table. “I understand you’re our Breck’s mate, and that you can’t get out of your wedding, which amply explains why you look like you’ve lost your best friend and stopped eating altogether, but tell me, isn’t he the just the most delicious shifter you’ve ever seen? Honestly, if I weren’t a happily mated woman, I’d have that young man making personal service deliveries to my cottage every chance I got. Such arms, he has! And his ass!”
Darla cleared her throat weakly, sure her face was beet-red. Whatever she had expected to discuss with this woman, Breck’s personal attributes had not made the list. “He’s… ah…”
Ours, her snow leopard insisted jealously. All ours. Deliciously ours.
“Very… handsome,” Darla squeaked.
Magnolia leaned back and laughed. “Oh, your face,” she said kindly. “I didn’t mean to make you squirm, dear. I just assumed that you’d be spending every chance you got with the poor man before you had to part ways.”
“I can’t,” Darla managed to say, confused and distressed by the idea as much as she longed for it. “I’m getting married.”
“You’re not married yet,” Magnolia said pointedly. “And let’s face it, darling, the time we have together is terribly short no matter who you are and how much stands in your way. If you have a chance at a few moments of happiness, you take them, and you hold onto them and you do the best with them you possibly can, even if it’s not how you thought things might be.”
She wasn’t looking at Darla, for the end of her words, but over Darla’s shoulder, with soft violet eyes. Then her gaze snapped back to Darla. “And dear, if you haven’t figured it out by now, Breck knows how to live now better than most of us do. You should let him teach you that.”
Darla stared back at her, as Chef appeared from behind her with an absolute platter of food: cubes of glistening fruit, croissants, slices of cold meat, exquisite little twists of homemade mozzarella. “I couldn’t possibly eat all of this,” Darla protested.
“Oh, posh,” Magnolia said expansively. “I’ll help you.”
Which is how Darla ended up eating a third breakfast, listening to Magnolia talk about the beauties and qualities of Shifting Sands Resort, and thinking hard about her choices for the next three days.
She forgot about the apron in her purse.
Chapter 22
There was another minor earthquake after lunch. The only loss was a wineglass that fell off the counter in The Den; otherwise it was just one of the tiny rumbles that were starting to feel like just another feature of the resort.
“Who is supposed to be doing these dishes?” Saina asked crossly from the kitchen as she cleaned up the broken glass. “Seriously, there are no clean plates, and it’s starting to attract ants.” She smashed one with her thumb. “Ew!”
Breck, lying on the couch playing a first person shooter and losing badly, glanced over. They didn’t usually have a strict chore schedule, but he was in the habit of cleaning up the kitchen every time he used it. But the past few days, he hadn’t been able to dredge up the energy to care if there were dirty dishes, barely interested in feeding himself. “Sorry,” he said, sounding unapologetic to his own ears.
“Oh, yuck, this dishtowel is crunchy,” Saina said in disgust. “When was the last time these were changed? Breck don’t you usually do the shared laundry?”
“Yeah,” Breck said, as his character died again. He thumbed off the game, but made no move to get up off the couch.
Saina seemed to finally notice his malaise. “I don’t think I noticed how much you do around here,” she said as she dumped the last of the broken glass into the over-full trash. “Are you... are you okay?”
Saina wasn’t the sort to be sympathetic to self-pity, or to be particularly sympathetic in general, so Breck was touched by the question. “I’ll be fine,” he lied.
Saina’s mouth twisted doubtfully. “You know that mermaids can usually tell if people are telling the truth,” she suggested.
Breck hadn’t know that, and wondered how many of his outrageous stories she’d known the real truth behind. “I’ll be fine,” he repeated, not
caring if she believed it or not.
To his surprise, she came and sat beside him on the couch. “So, I’m not the most… people-oriented person,” she said frankly. “And it’s not really siren custom to give a damn about anyone except ourselves.”
“Yeah,” Breck said, equally honestly. Saina had been an odd fit in their quirky work family, and he was pretty sure that she was the most surprised of all of them how well she had adjusted to the affectionate and cooperative employees who lived in The Den.
“I’m really sorry you got yanked from your work by a ridiculous bigot,” Saina said carefully. “And I know that you cared a lot about what you did. So if you want to talk about it or whatever, I’d listen.”
Despite the musical lilt to her voice, she said it like she was offering her wrists to be slit, Breck thought, and he was honestly touched by her thoughtfulness. He also knew that talking about Darla wasn’t going to fix a thing. “I appreciate the offer,” he said sincerely. “But you can’t help me with this.”
Saina shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said without offense. “I’ll do a load of dishes if you want.”