Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore #1) - K.A. Merikan Page 0,101
hate the change. The horse still had as much vigor as a foal, was healthy and unnaturally resilient, but everything would be different all the way in Warsaw. He’d have to live with other horses, wouldn’t get to eat as much grass, and surely even the air would be different. Still, Emil hoped to find a solution that worked for all three of them.
The mass had already started by the time he was done sweeping the yard between the back of the church and the parsonage. He was about to move farther toward the front of the building when Mrs. Luty emerged with a wide smile on her wrinkled face.
“There’s a call for you, Emil!”
Emil frowned. “Why would someone call me here?”
“Ah, you know I’m not one to gossip, but I was just talking to Mrs. Golonko about your plight, and she wants to speak with you.”
Having nothing to lose and everything to gain if Mrs. Golonko wanted to buy some of Emil’s alcoholic infusions too, he followed an unusually animated Mrs. Luty into the parsonage.
“Do you want some tea? Coffee? The wind’s so cold tonight,” she said and handed him the headset before picking up the kettle.
Emil didn’t know how to treat her sudden enthusiasm for him and focused on the task at hand. “Hello?”
“Emil. I’m so glad I happened to call Mrs. Janina just now. How are you?” she asked, without her customary tone, which indicated how little she cared for the person she spoke to.
“Um, quite good actually. Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Golonko?”
“I think you could, Emil. My husband and Mr. Nowak had to fire one of their employees for dishonesty, so a full-time opportunity opened up at the fox fur farm. I suggested they offer it to you, because you’ve been an excellent addition to the team each time you worked for me,” she said as if she hadn’t treated him like dirt every single time he part-timed in one of her shops.
And now, for the first time—this one time—he had the leverage to politely decline her offer. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Golonko, but I’m extremely busy with my alcohol infusions business. I work on it pretty much around the clock right now, but thank you so much for thinking of me. I’d gladly offer you a discounted rate if you or your husband wanted to purchase some as Christmas gifts for your contractors. I offer a variety of flavors, all local and organic.”
The line went so dead that for a moment he thought she simply switched off her phone. Mrs. Luty stared at him as if there was a ghost looming over him, but he didn’t get to look over his shoulder when Mrs. Golonko finally spoke. “I—I’m prepared to offer you very competitive pay. We might be interested in buying some of your products, but you must know yourself that the infusions are only a temporary solution. If you wanted to make this a permanent job, you’d have to make it official and take a lot of financial risk. Wouldn’t it be better to have the stability of a good job in the place you call home?”
Concern for anyone but herself and Jessika was so out of character for Mrs. Golonko that for all Emil knew, he might have accidentally stepped into another dimension. Mrs. Luty smiled and put another generous piece of cake in front of him—the same cake she’d claimed she no longer had. Were they trying to fatten him up for slaughter or something?
“Thank you, that’s too kind. I will definitely give it thought.” Not.
“Definitely do, Emil. It’s a really good opportunity for you.”
This kind of back-and-forth small talk continued for a couple more minutes before Emil managed to politely end the conversation and put the phone down. “Could I take the cake home? I promised you to sweep the whole yard, and I’m not leaving without paying up,” he said and left before Mrs. Luty managed to once again demand that he rethinks his future plans.
Unbelievable.
Things went from weird to wild when no one other than Mr. Nowak drove into the yard and parked his car with a screech of tires.
“Where’s the fire?” Emil laughed, fully expecting for Nowak to pass him and head to see Mrs. Luty, but he came closer, walking to the languid rhythm of the sleep-inducing hymn sung inside the church.
“Ah, no fire. Why would you say that?” Nowak asked, wiping his forehead with a tissue.