have children. Sheesh.
Harmony brought one of the logs upstairs that night as she followed Gilda the deaf cook up to the suite she’d yet to see.
“The boss said to tell you he’s flying to the mainland for supplies,” Gilda shouted at the landing. “Won’t be back till late.”
“Thanks,” Harmony replied as loud, wondering why Paxton had kept his distance all day, outside or off-site, which could be her imagination, since she was jumpy about their living arrangements.
Harmony went in first and stopped dead. “All the conveniences?” Her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room. “It doesn’t even have walls. It’s a blooming dormitory!”
Gilda nodded. “Cots, in case of a storm or a late work night.”
Great, Harmony thought. She might get to share with the whole crew. Lucky blooming her.
“Boss man owns the bed, so choose your cot, and I’ll make it up.”
Harmony took her bedding from Gilda. “ I’ll make up the one farthest away from him.”
“I might be seventy, but I’m not dead,” Gilda shouted close to Harmony’s ear, as if whispering. “I’d take the cot closest to boss man.”
“Not me. He called this a suite. I was gonna put the feisty feline four in their carrier for the night so they wouldn’t pester him,” she yelled, “but to hell with that! They were cooped up all morning waiting for the boats, weren’t you, babies?” She cuddled Gingertigger. “As far as I’m concerned, King Kong deserves no such consideration. Have at him, psycho cats.”
Gilda shook her head. “You’re really gonna stay?”
Harmony realized this was an unorthodox situation, but besides fulfilling her psychic mandate, she was too curious about Gussie to quit, plus she had some added monetary, and hunky, incentives. “Of course I am. You’re only a bell pull away, you said. You do hear the bell, right?”
Gilda chuckled. “I hear it.”
“Fine. I’m staying, and I’m gonna give boss man what he deserves.”
Harmony intended to explore the mutual attraction she and Paxton were cooking up—over an open flame, they were cooking—but Gilda didn’t need to know that. She thanked Gilda and made up a cot as far away from Paxton as she could get . . . temporarily. This is where she was meant to be. She touched her ring and thought about sharing the room with the hunk. She liked the idea of two against Gussie. Plus there was the psycho-cat entertainment factor.
She needed to protect the room from Gussie first, so she swept it from east to west, a ritual sweeping away of evil. She sprinkled salt, sage, angelica, and lavender around the room’s perimeters and lit corner candles for protection, peace, harmony, and blessings. Opening the window, she waved her wand and began her chant:
“On this beautiful night in June,
By the power and light of the moon,
This room I protect and bless
From those with harm to address.
No evil through this door to seep
Into bodies, hearts, minds, in sleep.
Guard night and day
Negativity, keep at bay
And none shall it harm
Hear my will, bide this charm.
So mote it be.
So mote it be.”
Harmony sighed, feeling good about being here.
The remodeled bathroom did have all the conveniences, she discovered a short while later. She changed into a pair of boxers with Storm’s ratty old Plays Well with Others tee, but she left some long johns by her cot in case of a ghostly, ice-age wake-up call.
By the time she settled in, Tigerstar and her hyperactive kittens had installed themselves on the royal blue satin bedspread of Paxton’s manly antique four-poster. Harmony fell asleep smiling.
She heard him come into the room, and she pretended to be asleep as he went to and from the bathroom, preparing for bed.
He swore, and something shattered. Harmony peeked and saw Tigerstar riding his shoulders. That cat could leap, and she’d scared the dickens out of him. Harmony bit her lip against a laugh.
Paxton picked up the broken pieces of . . . an
Harmony brought one of the logs upstairs that night as she followed Gilda the deaf cook up to the suite she’d yet to see.
“The boss said to tell you he’s flying to the mainland for supplies,” Gilda shouted at the landing. “Won’t be back till late.”
“Thanks,” Harmony replied as loud, wondering why Paxton had kept his distance all day, outside or off-site, which could be her imagination, since she was jumpy about their living arrangements.
Harmony went in first and stopped dead. “All the conveniences?” Her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room. “It doesn’t even have walls. It’s a blooming dormitory!”
Gilda nodded. “Cots, in case of a storm or a late work night.”
Great, Harmony thought. She might get to share with the whole crew. Lucky blooming her.
“Boss man owns the bed, so choose your cot, and I’ll make it up.”
Harmony took her bedding from Gilda. “ I’ll make up the one farthest away from him.”
“I might be seventy, but I’m not dead,” Gilda shouted close to Harmony’s ear, as if whispering. “I’d take the cot closest to boss man.”
“Not me. He called this a suite. I was gonna put the feisty feline four in their carrier for the night so they wouldn’t pester him,” she yelled, “but to hell with that! They were cooped up all morning waiting for the boats, weren’t you, babies?” She cuddled Gingertigger. “As far as I’m concerned, King Kong deserves no such consideration. Have at him, psycho cats.”
Gilda shook her head. “You’re really gonna stay?”
Harmony realized this was an unorthodox situation, but besides fulfilling her psychic mandate, she was too curious about Gussie to quit, plus she had some added monetary, and hunky, incentives. “Of course I am. You’re only a bell pull away, you said. You do hear the bell, right?”
Gilda chuckled. “I hear it.”
“Fine. I’m staying, and I’m gonna give boss man what he deserves.”
Harmony intended to explore the mutual attraction she and Paxton were cooking up—over an open flame, they were cooking—but Gilda didn’t need to know that. She thanked Gilda and made up a cot as far away from Paxton as she could get . . . temporarily. This is where she was meant to be. She touched her ring and thought about sharing the room with the hunk. She liked the idea of two against Gussie. Plus there was the psycho-cat entertainment factor.
She needed to protect the room from Gussie first, so she swept it from east to west, a ritual sweeping away of evil. She sprinkled salt, sage, angelica, and lavender around the room’s perimeters and lit corner candles for protection, peace, harmony, and blessings. Opening the window, she waved her wand and began her chant:
“On this beautiful night in June,
By the power and light of the moon,
This room I protect and bless
From those with harm to address.
No evil through this door to seep
Into bodies, hearts, minds, in sleep.
Guard night and day
Negativity, keep at bay
And none shall it harm
Hear my will, bide this charm.
So mote it be.
So mote it be.”
Harmony sighed, feeling good about being here.
The remodeled bathroom did have all the conveniences, she discovered a short while later. She changed into a pair of boxers with Storm’s ratty old Plays Well with Others tee, but she left some long johns by her cot in case of a ghostly, ice-age wake-up call.
By the time she settled in, Tigerstar and her hyperactive kittens had installed themselves on the royal blue satin bedspread of Paxton’s manly antique four-poster. Harmony fell asleep smiling.
She heard him come into the room, and she pretended to be asleep as he went to and from the bathroom, preparing for bed.
He swore, and something shattered. Harmony peeked and saw Tigerstar riding his shoulders. That cat could leap, and she’d scared the dickens out of him. Harmony bit her lip against a laugh.
Paxton picked up the broken pieces of . . . an
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