The café door swung open and a huge minotaur ducked through the doorway. Her fork froze halfway to her lips. He had to be seven feet tall, even without the sweeping horns, and he was dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that somehow made him look more imposing rather than less. He moved with surprising grace for someone his size, his hooves clicking softly on the wooden floor.
The petite redhead who accompanied him murmured something to him, and his gaze landed on their table. Even from across the room she heard him sigh, but he made his way over to them and nodded politely.
“Flora. Gladys.”
“Houston!” Flora gave him a wide innocent smile. “Perfect timing. This is Chloe Bennington. She’s new in town.”
Houston gave Flora a wary look, but he smiled at her.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Chloe.” His voice was a low rumble. “This is my mate, Ginger. I hope you’re settling in well.”
“I am, thank you,” she said cautiously, and Ginger gave her a sympathetic smile.
“It can be an adjustment, but Fairhaven Falls is a wonderful place to live.”
“Don’t just stand there looming,” Flora ordered. “Sit. We were discussing Chloe’s future.”
She blinked. “We were? I didn’t think my future was up for discussion.”
“Everything’s up for discussion in Fairhaven Falls,” Gladys said mildly. “You’ll get used to it.”
Houston seated Ginger on the bench next to Chloe, then pulled up a chair which creaked ominously under his weight. “What are you scheming, Flora?”
“Scheming? Me?” Flora pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. “I’m simply solving your problems for you. Chloe here needs a job.”
“What?” She blinked again. “I never said?—”
Flora waved an impatient hand. “I know you don’t need income immediately…”How did she know that?“…but what do you intend to do with yourself for the next three months? Just sit in that cabin alone worrying about the future?”
The words hit a little too close to home. She set down her fork, appetite suddenly gone despite the perfect pancakes.
“I wasn’t?—”
“Of course you were, dear.” Gladys’s tone was gentle but matter-of-fact. “It’s what we do when we’re alone with our thoughts.”
Flora turned to Houston. “You know the town archives are a disaster. Meredith tried to organize them before she retired, but she’s eighty-three and her knees gave out halfway through. You’ve been complaining about it for months.”
Houston gave the old woman a suspicious look. “I agree that the town archives could use help, but?—”
“Chloe is a librarian,” Flora said triumphantly. “Aren’t you, dear?”
“I was a librarian,” she said slowly. “Although I worked in the public library, rather than the archives.”
“Close enough.” Flora leaned forward, black eyes sparkling. “You know how to organize things, don’t you? How to find connections between dusty old records?”
“Well, yes, but?—”
Flora ignored the interruption, focusing on Houston. “You were just saying last week you needed someone with organizational skills and historical knowledge. Here she is. Problem solved.”
Houston looked at Chloe, then back at Flora. “I can’t just hire someone on the spot?—”
“Why not? You’re the mayor.”
“That’s not how municipal hiring works?—”
“The town council will approve it, won’t we, Gladys?” Flora crossed her arms and glared at the mayor. “I’m sure you don’t want to explain to the council why you’re letting our heritage turn to mold because you couldn’t be bothered to hire a qualified candidate.”
She listened to the exchange with growing mortification. “Really, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking for?—”
