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The Little Shop of Gentle Magics

Page 36

by Jessica Rosenberg

I followed them at a more leisurely pace.

Peggy had given me a quick tour, so I knew what I’d find at the top of the ladder staircase, but it was fun to see Merry twirling in place, his eyes darting everywhere as he tried to take it all in. Even Viv looked impressed as she looked around the brightly colored room.

The upstairs was composed of a large central room bookended by two smaller bedrooms at one end and a larger room and half-bath at the other. A past resident had to have been an artist of some sort, because each wall of the central room was painted to represent a different season in bold, bright strokes. The floor was divided into four quarters that matched the walls they connected to. The effect was borderline magical, and just a hair overwhelming.

The two bedrooms at the far end were painted more sedately in soothing pastels. Other than two, bare twin mattresses, the space was empty.

“This is my room!” Viv called from the pale green room farthest from the ladder stairs.

Not to be outdone, Merry cried, “This one is mine!” from the periwinkle-blue room next to it.

Art wrapped his arms around me from behind and pulled me into a tight hug. “That’s one less argument to mediate,” he whispered in my ear before kissing it so gently I wondered if I’d imagined it. “I guess that makes this one mine,” he called, pulling me into the last room. The instant he was sure we were out of sight, he repeated the kiss and followed it with a light trail of more down to the crook of my neck, right above my shoulder blade.

He groaned happily when I gasped and arched my back in response.

“That’s it. That’s the sound,” he purred in my ear.

“Dad!” Viv cried from her room, startling us both out of the heady moment.

Art released me abruptly, then caught my arm to steady me when my legs wobbled. “You okay?” he asked, frowning down at me.

“Uh-huh,” I replied, rubbing my free hand across the back of my neck, letting my fingers linger along the nerves set alight by his lips. “Totally fine. Never been better or less distracted.”

He laughed and dropped a chaste kiss on my lips before heading to see what had his daughter riled up again. I followed with a wistful sigh, picturing what might have come next if we’d been alone.

“Can you hear that?” Viv cried, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the wall in her room.

“Hear what?” Art asked, sounding more than a little distracted, clearly ready to dismiss her outburst. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Dad! Listen!” she whispered dramatically, holding up her hand for him to be quiet.

Art was glancing over at me, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, when a scrabbling sound came through loud and clear from the space behind the room’s wood paneling.

“What is that?” Viv shrieked. “Is it a mouse?”

The scrabbling grew frantic for a second but then stopped.

“Well, if it was, it’s gone now,” Art said, matter-of-factly. “It’s an old house, Viv. There might be the odd mouse in the walls.”

Viv squealed and jumped onto the only thing in the room other than her suitcase. A small puff of dust exploded out of the mattress when her feet landed in the middle.

I winced and shot Art an apologetic glance. He dismissed my concern with a wave. “Not to worry. I’ve air mattresses being delivered in a little bit.”

“What? Why?” I asked, frowning.

He shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

“But you never even checked to see if I had beds ready for them,” I said, not sure why I was annoyed that he hadn’t bothered.

Art’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I should have. Though,”—he tipped his head at the ancient mattress on the floor and winked at me—“no harm, no foul. Right?”

The butterflies in my belly flew into a tizzy, and I grinned awkwardly at him, feeling sheepish for even bringing it up. “Right. No harm, no foul.”

“Dad! The mouse! Do something!” Viv cried, bouncing back and forth from foot to foot, looking a little like a prancing colt as she waved her arms in the air in time with her feet.

“It’s g…” Before he could finish the word, the scrabbling sound started up again, this time accompanied by the faintest little animal cry I’d ever heard.

Squinting, I peered at the wall, as though I could maybe see through the paneling. “Is that a…”