Page 5 of Dead & Breakfast
Salvatore bared his fangs, not unlike a disgruntled house cat. “Must I?”
“If you want to keep that smile intact, I think yes.”
“But I hate needles,” Salvatore said with an almighty pout. “And drills.”
“The sooner you go, the less likely they are to use them.” Though as vampires he and Salvatore were immortal, Arthur still insisted on routine teeth cleanings and yearly physicals. Perhaps they couldn’t get sick the way humans could, but they could still get plaque buildup, and nothing spoiled an afternoon quite the way a split fang could. “I don’t care if Dr.Young is the devil incarnate. You still have to go.”
“I think I’d prefer him that way,” Sal grumbled, but he stood up and straightened his cravat. “I must bid you all adieu. Don’t get up to any mischief while I’m away—I’ll be terribly jealous you’ve left me out.”
“Give Dr.Young my regards.” Quinn turned to Nora to add, “He’s a friend of the mayor’s.”
“Of course he is.” Sal gave them all a tight smile before sweeping from the room with the swiftness of a bat.
The upside to Salvatore’s unusual silence all evening was that when he was gone, the room didn’t seem much emptier than before. Arthur still felt his absence, though. It had been decades since Arthur had done much of anything without Sal by his side—not since before “Waterloo,” the song, not the battle. Conversation struggled along in fits and starts, until at last it died for good. Social niceties, unlike himself, could not rise anew from the grave. He couldn’t help but be reminded uncomfortably of the many times he’d suffered through the social ritual of cocktail hour with his old coworkers, hoping one day he might suddenly find he belonged asif by some sort of magic. Alas, he’d liked neither the drinks nor the company and never mustered the confidence to decline the invitation until after he met Salvatore. The grand irony was, once Arthur became immortal, his coworkers ceased including him in such activities. He would have dearly loved to tell them no at long last, but it was not to be. It pained him to know he might now be the source of that same anguish in his guests.
“Should I open another bottle?” Arthur suggested when the silence stretched too long. It had only been a quarter hour since Salvatore’s departure, but somehow it felt like eons.
“No, I should be going.” Quinn jumped up from the plush cushions she’d never truly settled into. “It’s obvious the mayor isn’t coming.”
Nora stood, too, her posture braced as if for a fight. “I guess you really don’t do anything that doesn’t win you points with him.”
“Let me show you out,” Arthur said quickly. No need to prolong the tension and allow whatever animosity they held for each other to escalate.
Quinn gave him a curt nod before leaving, not bothering to say thank you or even goodbye.
Nora sighed once she was gone. “I should never have invited the mayor. I didn’t know she’d come instead.”
Arthur parted his lips to ask for more details but decided against it at the last minute. He wasn’t much for gossip, and Sal wasn’t there to insist upon it. “Would you like more wine?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to turn in for the night. Thanks for hosting this. Wasn’t your fault Quinn—” She cut herself off and shook her head. “Good night.”
She headed upstairs, her footsteps heavy.
Alone now, Arthur cast his gaze around the room. At leastthey’d made a dent in the food, though he’d only had to open one bottle of red.
Still, as he piled perhaps an unwise amount of cheese on his plate, listening to the record player transition to a suitably depressing song, Arthur supposed this was a start. Things could finally be looking up for the Iris Inn, and for their place here in Trident Falls. This had been their most successful event yet, even with the mayor’s absence.
Chapter 2
Not long beforedawn, Salvatore had yet to cease complaining about the apparently dreadful experience he’d had at the dentist. He’d returned hours ago, a solitary cyclist on their light teal tandem bicycle.
“You can take that cotton out of your mouth,” Arthur said as he gathered ingredients for biscuits. Why Sal had it in the first place after a routine cleaning was beyond him, but Sal had never once in their decades of marriage missed an opportunity to be dramatic.
The sun had just begun to lighten the sky, and he wasn’t sure how early a riser Nora would prove to be. Arthur was doubly determined to impress Nora with the breakfast spread. A new city manager staying at their inn was no small thing. If they charmed her, she might leave them good reviews—and go on to recommend them to others or even get them a coveted spot in the chamber of commerce’s yearly tourism brochure. Wine and cheese night had ended a little awkwardly, but no matter. Breakfast was the real draw—after the bed, of course.
“That horrible man gave no instructions for care!” Salvatorecarried on around the cotton, one cheek still puffed up impressively. “That’s what one gets, going to a dentist.”
“He kept his practice open late for you,” Arthur said, only half paying attention as he scoured the counters for his favorite baking tray—a round one, dark in color, that was easy to balance in one hand, at least at night, when his vampiric nature made him more agile.
“The whole profession is evil.”
“Didn’t cavities used to kill people back in your day?” Arthur asked as he got out a mixing bowl. He was rushing to beat the sunrise, because after that, breakfast prep would progress at a snail’s pace in comparison.
“I think I’d remember dying from a cavity if it’d happened. No, that sounds like dental propaganda. Typical.” Salvatore made a pitiable face that, with the added drama of the cotton balls, made him look like an overblown pufferfish.
“Do you think we had any impact on Quinn?” Arthur asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“Who cares? I’m far more interested in Nora’s history with her. Do you think they’re ex-lovers? Who do you suppose spurned whom?”
