Page 30 of Henhouse
Theo removed the cards and spread them out before him. He enjoyed the pattern of garden beds and hedgerows that decorated the back of the cards. Theo closed his eyes again and hovered his hands over the spread of cards, then asked aloud, “What do I need to know today?”
He waved his hands over the cards until he felt the familiar prickle that worked its way from the tip of his ring finger up to his shoulder indicating the card he needed beckoned from immediately below. He planted his finger on the card and edged it away from the rest of the deck. A tingling—like when a song hits just right—covered him in goose bumps as he turned the card over to reveal an illustration.
It was sketched in colored pencil shades like images on the front of heirloom seed packets—a perfectly ripe, seductively purpleeggplant.
Theo puttered down Hanover Street in his black Jeep Wrangler, the sun setting behind him in tangerine hues. He itched to drive with the top off, but there’d be a few more threats of frost and rainstorms before he could shed the hard shell and bask in the summer sun.
He pulled to a stop in front of Glitter & Glue. A plump eggplant sat in the passenger seat alongside a box of chocolates. The bold move would be to go in there and offer a vegetable. It could also be construed as weird if he wasn’t able to get out the greater meaning before she passed judgment. Weird might also be the deduction if shedidhear his full explanation about how cosmically aligned his calling her eggplant now felt given the card he’d pulled and the meaning it was assigned in the realms of the mystical.
It would be a safer move to bring in the chocolates.When had he become so pathetically indecisive?Yes, chocolates were better.
He’d use the other offering to make eggplant parmesan for dinner instead. Maybe once they knew each other better, when he’d sussed out if the other half of his bed belonged to her, he’d tell her the intricate implications of the nightshade produce.
His eyes narrowed on the shiny purple flesh of the eggplant. The belated realization that the eggplant meant a whole lot of dirty things to the emoji generation left him queasy.How had he not madethatconnection before now?
Here he was calling this ethereal, quiet, sweetly seductive womaneggplantfor weeks and she hadn’t even batted an eye. Her self-restraint was admirable. If the shoe was on the other foot, he’s not sure he could have left the opportunity to turn her twenty shades of red with the obvious innuendo on the table. So either she was as removed from emojis as he was or she was far kinder than he realized.
Another explanation hammered him in the head. Maybe she thought he’d been teasing her, and pride had her grinning through it. Theo raked his hands over his face.For fuck’s sake, had he ruined this before it even started?
He refused to believe that the sharp-tongued woman he met wouldn’t have said something if the nickname offended her that way. They had jested about it, but she seemed like the kind to let you know if you crossed a line with her. At least, that’s what he told himself so his fingers would unbuckle his seatbelt and his feet would carry him to the door, box of chocolates in hand.
He stepped up to the cheerful craft shop, open for another ten minutes. Theo paused at the glass door where he had a clear view of Effie mopping. She’d already turned off half of the overhead lights in favor of the warm lamp on the register desk. Backlit as she was, Theo noticed the alluring dip between her chest and her full hips, and the flawless curve of her neck as she dragged the mop side to side in unhurried motions. Maybe his preconceived ideas of who he’d end up with muddied his vision. Maybe her indignation had gotten in the way of him truly seeing her at first meeting, but now, when she thought no one stood watching, she was downright beguiling.
Theo stepped through the door before he teetered into creepy territory. The chime of the bell signaled his arrival and snagged Effie’s attention away from her chore.
“Hi,” she chirped, her puzzled brow at odds with the airy smile that parted her plump, rosy lips. Her brunette waves were swept into a bun atop her head that left wild tendrils floating around the near angelic curve of her face. Theo hadn’t let himself look at her too long before now, but something in his meditation unlocked the desire he’d kepttucked away after their first meeting.
She was radiant, beautiful. Like a dew drop on rose petals or a rustle of leaves in the wind. She stirred the very air he breathed in a way that had his heart hammering in his chest. “Hi,” he finally purred.
“What brings you by?”
Theo perused the turnstile of leather-bound journals, plucking one from its resting place. “Need a new journal,” he half lied. He admired them the last time he came in and thought it would be a good choice for his next collection of poems—whatever those ended up being.
He followed Effie to the register with his selection and a new fountain tip pen. He placed them on the counter as she rang him up.
“I also came to thank you,” he said.
“What for?”
“Talking with Schilling. As much as he’s still reeling over the fact that Chloe found a way to insert herself with your cousin, he’s grateful to know why Hope was spooked.”
“Happy to have helped,” Effie said, and he noted the way her teeth clenched.
“But you didn’t tell him everything? Why not?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Call it a hunch,” Theo said, because it was the truth.
Effie gave him a once-over. He felt under a microscope beneath her gaze. Her eyes floated over his round spectacles and lingered on the stubble he wore just long enough to look roguish. Her eyes swept to his veined hands that rested on the counter and back to meet his stare. “I can’t help but feel like this is some kind of a test?”
Theo laughed in spite of himself. It wasn’t a test exactly, but he’d met few people who could resist the urge to meddle. He wantedto know why she’d stayed as neutral as possible in her conversation with Schilling. He didn’t even want to think about what she assumed the night was. If she’d been disappointed that Schilling wasn’t on the market. He swallowed that curiosity and said, “It’s not. Just wondering.”
“It’s not any of my business. As much as I might want them to work it out, it’s not my decision. And whatever I didn’t tell Brayden is not mine to tell. A sentiment you seemed to mirror at the Tipsy Moose?”
“I think it’s classy of you, that’s all. Even if I too want them to work it out. I’ve never seen him so happy, even with the divorce nonsense. And Hope seems great—”
“You met?”
