Midlife Blues - Victoria Danann Page 0,2
nasty little booger of a bootmaker three doors down. “It’s a song. Little Richard I think.”
“Little Richard? He’s a dwarf? Or goblin? Is that name a slur?”
“Esme. Have you always been so uber politically correct?” I shook my head. “Never mind. He’s departed. But when he was alive, he wasn’t magic kind. He wasn’t even little.”
“Then why…?”
Exasperated and ready to steer the conversation in another direction, I said, “Maybe he started in show business when he was a kid. I don’t know. Like Little Stevie Wonder became Stevie Wonder only Little Richard never…” I trailed off. “We’ve wandered far, far off track. You asked when I want the dress. I’m American which means the answer to that question is always now. I trust you enough that I could get it an hour before the party. But I’d love to have it a week ahead?”
“It will cost you a rush fee.”
“I’m good with that as long as we’re talking pounds sterling and not years off my life or something of the sort.”
Esmerelda looked at me as if she thought I was a walking science exhibit. “Where do you get such ideas?”
“Fairy tales.”
“Um. Um. Um,” she said in three descending tones.
“So. If you don’t need anything else?”
“That will do.”
“Thanks, Esme. You’re a marvel.”
“Exactly.”
I’d told Esme that I would check with Lochlan and Ivy about the ears, but I felt certain they wouldn’t be offended. And, since I was walking right by The Braid, I stopped in.
“Bray!” I called out.
He appeared immediately with a huge grin on his affable face. “My favorite judge!”
“My favorite smith!” I responded in kind.
“You came to insist I come to lunch? And you’re in luck. I am free today.”
Lunch was, in fact, full up, but I how could I say no? What I could do is eat on a stool at the island instead of at the round table. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Yes. We’re having teriyaki stir fry.”
“I’m in!” he said.
“And since I’m here anyway…”
“Oh. Business! I’m all ears.” Braden loved that joke and used it often. He didn’t have pointy ears, but he did have huge ears that were made to seem even bigger by his diminutive stature. I’d learned it’s a characteristic of dwarves. Bradesford, his uncle, had kept his covered up with thick hair worn shoulder-length. Braden had no ear issues.
I whipped out the photo. “I want some of these and I want them to fit my ears comfortably and stay in place.”
He studied the photo and looked up, through his lashes, without moving his head. “The party.”
“Right.”
“I can do this. They will fit your ears. They will cost a lot. You will love them.”
“Shave a little off in exchange for a free lunch?”
He laughed. “Done.”
“Oops. Never mind. Forget I said that. It might be interpreted as bribery instead of barter. Which is what it would be. Barter, I mean. But regardless, we’re not doing that. I’m paying full price.”
“Of course.” He nodded.
“So. See you at twelve.” I stopped midway through my turn to leave. “Braden. You don’t think Lochlan or Ivy would be offended by this, do you?”
His smile dropped. “Why? Did they want to come to lunch?”
I smiled. “Probably. But I was talking about the elven ears?”
I could tell by his blank look that it took a minute for him to understand the reference. “You mean because they have pointy ears?”
“Yes. Esmerelda thought they might be offended.”
“Pshhhhhh. Silly as a sloth in a spider’s web.” Okaaaaay. “I think it’s just the opposite. Everybody wants those ears.”
“That’s what I thought!”
“If anything, they’ll be flattered.”
“That’s what I thought! But it’s a relief to get a second opinion. When will they be ready?”
“When do you want them?”
“What are you wearing?”
“Monkey suit. Bren calls it black tie.”
Bren was short for Brendolyn, Braden’s fiancé.
“When are you two going to…”
“Tie the knot?”
“Yeah.”
“Beltane. You’re invited.”
“Thanks very much. Nothing could keep me away.” I was amazed at the capacity of women, even those who’d been used and abused, to still believe in true love.
He chuckled.
“What?”
“I just… Nothing.”
“No. What?”
“I just got the feeling that your first thought was about what you’re going to wear.”
“My first thought was about what to give you for a wedding present,” I said indignantly. “My second thought was about what I’m going to wear. What is Bren wearing?”
“I’m not supposed to know.”
“I don’t mean what is she wearing to your handfasting.”
“Oh, you mean to John David’s. I don’t know.” He looked worried. “Is that something I should know? Am I supposed to ask her that?”
I