The Pagan Stone Page 0,14

eggs."

"Good. Good. It just seems crazy, worrying about paint chips when we've got life-and-death issues to worry about."

"Color schemes are life-and-death issues."

Layla laughed, but shook her head. "We've got a demon who wants us dead, coming into full power in about six weeks, and I'm pursuing the wild hare of opening my own business in the town it wants for its personal playground. Meanwhile Fox has to interview and train-or I have to train-my replacement as his office manager while we figure out how to stay alive and destroy ancient evil. And I'm going to ask Fox to marry me."

"We can't stop living because... Whoa." Cybil held up a hand, and waited for her morning-fuzzy brain to clear. "In my journalism classes, that's what we called burying the lead. Big time."

"Is it crazy?"

"Of course, you never bury the lead." Since it was there, Cybil reached over and took a slice of bacon. "And yes, of course, marriage is insane-that's why it's human."

"I don't mean marriage, I mean asking him. It's so unlike me."

"I would hope so. I'd hate to think you go around proposing to men all willy-nilly."

"I always thought when everything was in place, when the time was right, that I'd wait for the man I loved to set the scene, buy the ring, and ask." Sighing, Layla went back to breaking eggs in the bowl. "That's like me-or was. But I don't care about everything being in place, and how the hell can anybody know, especially us, if the time's right? And I don't want to wait."

"Go get him, sister."

"Would you-I mean under the circumstances?"

"You're damn right I would."

"I feel... Here he comes," Layla whispered. "Don't say anything."

"Damn, I was planning to blurt it all out, then toss a few handfuls of confetti."

"Morning." Fox sent Cybil a sleepy smile, then turned a dazzling one on Layla. "You're cooking."

"My boss gave me the morning off, so I've got time to spare."

"Your boss should always give you whatever you need." He reached in the fridge for his usual Coke. And, popping the top, looked from one woman to the other. "What? What's going on?"

"Nothing." And thinking of his ability to read thoughts and feelings, Layla pointed her whisk at him. "And no peeking. We were just talking about the boutique, paint chips, that sort of thing. How many eggs do you want?"

"A couple. Three."

Layla sent Cybil a satisfied smile when Fox leaned in to nuzzle her and cop some bacon behind her back.

THE BUILDING THAT WOULD HOUSE LAYLA'S BOUTIQUE had an airy feel to it, good light, good location. Important pluses, to Cybil's mind. Layla had years of experience in fashion retail, as well as an excellent eye for style-other major advantages. Added to them was her shared ability with Fox to sense thoughts, and that sense of what a customer really wanted would be an enormous advantage.

She wandered the space. She liked the old wood floors, the warm tones of it and the wide trim. "Charming or slick?" Cybil asked.

"Charming, with slick around the edges." Standing at the front window with Quinn, Layla held one of the paint chips up in the natural light. "I want to respect the space, and jazz it up with little touches. Female, comfortable, but not cozy. Accessible, but not altogether expected."

"No pinks, roses, mauves."

"None," Layla said decisively.

"A couple of good chairs for customers to sit in," Quinn suggested, "to try on shoes, or wait for a friend in the changing area, but no floral fabrics, no chintz."

"If this were a gallery, we'd say your stock would be your art."

"Exactly." Layla beamed over at Cybil. "That's why I'm thinking neutral tones for the walls. Warm neutrals, because of the wood. And I'm thinking instead of a counter"-she waved the flat of her hand waist-high-"I might find a nice antique desk or pretty table for the checkout area. And over here-" She pushed the chips into Quinn's hand, crossed the bare floor. "I'd have clear floating shelves in a random pattern, to display shoes, smaller bags. And then here..."

Cybil followed as Layla moved from section to section, outlining her plans for the layout. The image formed clearly-open racks, shelves, pretty glass-fronted curios for accessories.

"I need Fox's father to build in a couple of dressing rooms back here."

"Three," Cybil said. "Three's more practical, is more interesting to the eye and it's a magickal number."

"Three then, with good, flattering lighting, and the tortuous triple mirror."

"I hate those bastards," Quinn muttered.

"We all do, but they're a necessary evil.