Page 94

Buffalo Westabrook had shown up at every fundraiser for the orphanage for as long as Dan could remember. He was famous for pressing money into the hands of shifter families who needed it without making them feel lesser. He’d always been quick to buy the first round or pick up the tab. And on that memorable night after Dan’s first full shift, when Dan was twelve and angry and looking for a fight, Will had made a call to the only person he could think of who might be able to help. It had been Buffalo who picked Dan up at the orphanage. and took him out for a night drive. They’d talked for hours about nothing and everything until Dan had dozed off in the passenger seat, wishing he’d been blessed with a Buffalo shifter for a father instead of a lion.

Dan hadn’t thought about that in years. His heart ached for Will, and Maida and everyone in Primrose Court. It was impossible to imagine the community without Buffalo.

“That conversation with Maida is not going to be easy,” Dan said. He leaned on his elbows against the bar.

“No,” Will agreed. “It isn’t.” The grim set of his jaw looked all wrong on a face that was normally so carefree.

“But it’s important to remember that this isn’t over yet, Will. Don’t lose faith now. There’s no reason to believe you won’t find them.” Both men were very quiet. Dan poured two fingers for himself before continuing. “You should have told me everything sooner, Will.”

“I know.” Will leaned back on his hands. “I kept thinking I’d have something better to report though. Some good news to balance the bad. Like… here’s the terrible thing, but also here’s the part where I already fixed it.” He stared up into the beams. “I don’t have that part yet.”

“You didn’t need that part. You just needed to tell me and let me be here for you.”

Will looked at him then with an expression Dan couldn’t quite read. He then understood how much Will had needed him to say those words. It broke his heart to realize that Will hadn’t been certain his best friend was going to come through. A wave of guilt crested and crashed over him.

“I’m sorry, Will. I’ve been an absolute dragon turd,” Dan confessed. “I’ve just been so focused on myself and my own stuff ever since the fire. I knew something had gone wrong with your mission and I didn’t push to find out what it was or how I could help. I let you carry it alone because it was easier for me.” He picked up the cloth again and then put it back down again. There was nothing else that needed wiping.

Will was quiet for a moment. He bowed his head and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.

“I forgive you. I’m just sorry I’m going to miss the opening of The Dandy Lion.”

Dan threw the cloth at him.

The front door creaked open but there didn’t seem to be anyone there. At least not at their eye level. A cough at knee level caused both men to look down.

The furry creature that stood there was standing upright on two legs. He was bright-eyed, with a prodigious overbite that was his first feature to clear the threshold as he took a step forward. He had on a monocle that made his right eye three times the size of his left. His waistcoat was crafted from rich burgundy velvet and adorned with brass buttons. As he stepped forward to greet them, his whiskers twitched like excited antennae.

“Good day! Mr. Wilder, I presume?” He stared up at Dan. His voice was high-pitched and self-important. He made no apologies for interrupting them, as he appeared to be certain that his business, whatever it was, was far more important. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fidelito, Grand Poobah of the Literary Squirrels Book Club, third chapter, Primrose Court. I have long been meaning to come by and formally make your acquaintance.”

Naturally, Dan had heard of the Primrose Court squirrels but this was his first time conversing with one. He attempted to deflect. “Greetings, Fidelito. Let me introduce you to my friend, Will Porter.”

Fidelito glanced at Will with a withering look. “Right. We’ve met.” He saluted once then returned his full attention to inspecting the room.

He paced along the walls, inspecting the wainscoting with his hands clasped behind his back, his monocle catching the light. He tapped the bookshelves in two places, apparently approvingly.

“You’ll be stocking these shelves with books?” he asked. “Bestsellers, I assume? The Ordinary charts have some strong titles this season. There is one memoir I’ve noticed that photographs extremely well against a terracotta tile backdrop.” He glanced around as if he expected to find some terracotta somewhere.

“I was actually thinking of setting up a small lending library,” Dan said. “Nothing for sale. Just exchange. Honor system.”

Fidelito stopped in his tracks. He turned. The oversized eye regarded Dan with reprobation.

“Honor system?” Fidelito repeated.

“People take a book, bring it back when they’re done, take another.”

There was a pause in which Fidelito appeared to be working through the implications of such a dubious system. “I suppose it might suffice,” he said, sounding doubtful, “provided the books are arranged by color. It can be surprisingly difficult,” he added, with complete sincerity, “to locate the right shade of blue to complement certain outfits. Brown covers are also very fashionable at the moment.”

From the bar, Will said nothing. He was biting his cheek so hard Dan worried he might be doing permanent damage. Still, it was good to see his friend struggling not to smile.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Dan said solemnly.

Fidelito scurried behind the bar itself, examining the taps with a near professional interest. “Acorn ale,” he said, suddenly. “You’ll have it on draft, I assume?”

“I… uh… I’ll look into it.” Dan said.

“Excellent!” Fidelito produced a tiny card from his waistcoat pocket and placed it on the bar. “The book club meets monthly. We have certain requirements from our hosts regarding ambiance and refreshments. Hazelnut shortbread is non-negotiable.” He looked around the room one final time, taking in the absent furniture, the bare floor, the single book on the shelf. “You’ll have seating in place by opening night, I trust.”

“Working on it,” Dan reassured him.