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“I wanted to let you know Fox Bar will be opening in a few short weeks,” he said, flashing a smile at Margaret. “We’re throwing quite a grand opening. Should be something spectacular. I’d love for you to join.”
Liza was spitting mad now. “We wouldn’t join you if—”
“I’m excited to be part of the neighborhood with you,” he said. “I don’t see any reason we can’t both exist, right? You’ll serve your clientele, and I’ll serve—”
Patrick paused, for there was movement above, followed by the sound of something swooshing by as Bernie left the windowpane like a bolt of lightning to zip outside. Within moments, Silas was standing in the door frame, a dragon now perched on his shoulder. He smiled at Margaret, clearly not reading the room at first.
“Hello,” Silas said, walking over to the group and throwing his hand out to Patrick. “Silas Birchwood. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Instantly, Patrick was back to his charm.
“Something we have to rectify right away,” he said, shaking Silas’s hand. “I’m Patrick Kerrigan. Are you also a business owner in the village?”
Silas laughed. “Oh no. I’m a professor up at Emberwind.”
Patrick’s eyebrows rose, clearly not expecting someone who was fixing Margaret’s roof to also be one of Emberwind’s elite staff. “Are you really? Then it really is an honor to meet you. I’d love to chat more.”
“That would be great,” Silas said. “And did you say which business you own?”
“Oh, of course,” Patrick said. “I—”
“He,” Liza ground out, “is someone who is leaving. Right now.”
“Liza,” Margaret hissed. “We can all be polite, right?”
Silas blinked, obviously confused. “Er, did I miss something?”
“Nothing at all,” Patrick said, continuing to smile pleasantly. “I was just introducing myself to my neighbors. And I was extending an invite to—”
“I think you’ll find that our village isn’t won over by cheap tricks, Mr. Kerrigan,” Liza said, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder as she stepped forward. “So I expect we won’t be accepting your invitation any time soon.”
Patrick looked from Liza to Margaret to Silas, deciding on a response. Next to him, Liza looked like Charles when he was puffed up and spitting at the window when they brought in horses for ceremonies.
“I apologize if I’ve offended you,” Patrick said, moving his gaze to Margaret. “I mean it when I say I believe there’s room for both of us. I only meant to say . . . well, a little friendly competition never hurt anyone, right?”
Oh no. Margaret recognized that tone. Because while Patrick Kerrigan was trying to sound playful, Margaret saw in him the same edge that she saw in Liza so often.
This would not be like Sugar Spell and Petals and Pixies.
He intended to win, no matter the cost.
Patrick bowed his head. “Until we meet again.”
And then, he turned and left.
“Oh, he’s vile,” Liza said, hurrying after him to lock the door. “Absolutely vile.”
“He’s been watching me all morning,” Silas said. “Ever since I arrived.”
“The creep,” Liza said. “Spying on us. The nerve!”
Margaret decided not to point out that they had spied on him, too.
“I thought, at first, he might be your friend and worried about me climbing all over your pub,” Silas continued. “But I’m guessing that’s not the case?”
“Afraid not,” Margaret said, but then her mind jolted on something he’d said. “But that doesn’t matter—that is to say, thank you, Silas. For the sign and the roof. I can’t believe you did that.”
Margaret looked at him, at the dragon curled on his shoulder, and couldn’t help but soften ever so slightly. She exchanged a look with Liza, then at the rest of the pub.
