Page 22 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

“It’s none at all. I like bergamot with raw sugar. Will that do?”

She smiled. “Yes indeed.”

“We have cream on hand if you like.”

“If it’s no trouble…”

“None at all.” I stopped her. “So. You have questions for me?”

“Oh yes!” She looked at the notebook she was clutching as if it had just appeared by magic. “I do. Is it a good time?”

I laughed softly at the profound difference. “Perfect.”

She put the notebook on the table and removed an old-style fountain pen from her breast pocket. I wasn’t old enough to have used pens that fill with ink, but I was aware that they are infamous for leaking and would hate to see that happen to the ivory-colored silk blouse she wore under her purple gabardine suit coat.

I was glad I hadn’t had time to ask about the pen. She held it just above the open notebook and left it poised there in the air, apparently waiting for something to be said.

I stared. “That pen is going to take notes for you?”

Her eyes jerked to the pen like she’d done something wrong. “I had thought so, but if it’s…”

I held up a hand. “It’s fine. Honestly, I can’t wait to see this.”

She relaxed with a broad smile. “Good.

“Would you like me to call you Ms. Heronimus?”

“I’ve noted that you call some of the counselors by their personal names. I’d be honored for you to call me Blaes.”

“Excellent. Nice name, by the way.”

“You can call me Magistrate.” I heard Olivia snort softly.

“Well, of course. I wouldn’t dream to presume anything else,” Blaes said.

“No. Seriously. That was a joke. I’d be uncomfortable if you didn’t call me Rita.”

Blaes blushed at the suggestion, but said, “You’re too kind.”

“Yeah. I get that all the time.” Having slowly come to understand my sense of humor, I heard a second soft snort originate with Olivia. “So, let me have it. What are you dying to know?”

She blanched. “Dying?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. It’s a human expression. What’s your first question?”

“Well, everyone really wants to know what it’s like being married to a sephalion?

I sat back. Of all the questions I might’ve imagined, that hadn’t come to mind. I don’t know why. Of course, the ladies would be curious.

“It’s grand. He’s one of a kind.”

She looked confused. “I, ah, thought there were three?”

I smiled. “He does have two brothers who look quite like him, but believe me. They are not alike. It’s like “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”. One is too party hardy for my tastes. One is way too broody. Mine is just right.”

Again, she looked confused. “Please forgive me, Rita, but who is Goldilocks? Is she married to one of three identical bears?”

Whoops. “No. My bad. It’s a human children’s story about personal taste. Forget I brought it up. Perhaps my brothers-in-law are perfect matches for someone, but not me.”

---