Page 4 of Dead & Breakfast
“No need to do a sales pitch,” Salvatore said, without his usual vigor. “I doubt she will ever be a guest here. I imagine she’s too frightened—”
“Oh, the scones,” Arthur said in a hurry before Sal could finish. “I forgot to bring them out. Sal, will you help me?” He dragged Sal from the room, then said in a low voice, “What are you doing?”
“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.” There was a petulant tilt to Salvatore’s mouth, not quite a pout.
“You’re being rude to Quinn. If we win her over, she could put in a good word with the mayor himself—”
“There’s no winning people like that over. Didn’t you see his campaign signs?Keep Trident Falls Normal. It’s not very subtle.”
Arthur had seen the signs, and he’d seen the percentage of the vote George Roth had gotten. A narrow margin. The town could still very well be swayed. Perhaps the mayor might change his tune as well if enough of his constituents showed support for their budding business.
“We must try. At the very least, we can’t be rude in front of a paying guest. Please, Sal?”
“It’s not as though Nora is being welcoming either,” Sal grumbled, but he heaved a sigh and continued. “Fine. I never could say no to those stunning emerald eyes of yours.” Salvatore’s frown eased as he stared up at Arthur, then brushed his knuckles along the smooth skin of Arthur’s cheek. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. But if she says one snide word to you, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”
“She won’t; she’ll be too busy complimenting the Gouda.” Arthur gave Sal a quick kiss, then picked up the tray of scones. They’d already been gone too long.
Back in the living room, it was like a polar vortex had hit. The air was chilly with silence, despite the warm notes coming from the record player.
“How was your meeting with the mayor?” Quinn asked in a tone that would’ve been better served slinging insults.
Nora, who now held her plate of snacks before her like a shield, replied, “Productive. He was very receptive to my proposal.”
“I doubt that,” Quinn muttered.
“When the mayor arrives, he can tell you himself.” Nora paused to take a triumphant bite of cheese and salami. “After my presentation, he said he was excited to bring it to the city council.”
“Mayor Roth never likes to tell people no to their faces.” Quinn swirled her glass of wine without drinking.
“His supporters might not like it,” Nora shot back, “but once the money starts rolling in, that’s all they’ll care about.”
If Arthur had been a guest and not the host, he might’ve asked Nora about this allegedly lucrative proposal, but it was his sacred duty to ensure everyone was enjoying themselves. His gaze darted between Nora and Quinn, waiting for the opportune moment to interject and steer the conversation toward less contentious topics.
Salvatore, on the other hand, didn’t bother waiting. He grabbed the tray of scones from Arthur and swanned forward. “Oh, don’t stand around like that,” he said to the women. “If no one enjoys these antique sofas Arthur spent weeks hunting down, he’ll sulk.”
Nora and Quinn both jerked back and swung their gazes toward the door, as if they’d forgotten Arthur and Sal were there at all. Thankfully, they took Sal’s suggestion and the four of them settled in, Nora and Quinn sitting as far apart as they could on the lavender davenport, Arthur and Sal on the velvet settee. Arthur did his best to keep them engaged, but with Salvatore being nearly silent beside him, it was difficult. He wasn’t used to so many awkward lulls. Being married to Salvatore could be described as many things, but quiet had never before been one of them.
Arthur found himself frequently glancing out the window, hoping for the telltale headlights of an approaching car that would herald the mayor’s arrival. The darkness remained unbroken, and the conversation circled the drain.
Almost an hour into the evening, Salvatore’s phone chimed an alert. When he glanced at it, he looked simultaneously relieved and nervous.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Salvatore said, a practiced breeziness tohis tone that told Arthur there had been no forgetting whatsoever. “I have a dentist appointment.”
“This late?” Nora asked.
“Ah, you must be Dr.Young’s evening appointment.” Quinn nodded, shooting a smug glance at Nora. “He mentioned he was headed back to the office when he left the chamber of commerce meeting tonight.”
“Ah, yes.” Arthur let out a nervous laugh, not particularly keen to discuss the particulars. They’d managed to stay away from vampire-related conversation all evening and he wasn’t about to break their streak now. “Dr.Young was good enough to schedule Salvatore after hours.”
“Terribly anti-paranormal of him not to have evening hours to begin with, I say,” Salvatore grumbled.
“But kind of him to accommodate your preference all the same. Now, off you go!” Arthur made a shooing motion with his hands.
“No, really, I couldn’t leave our guests without my dazzling company.” Salvatore put his phone away and flashed them all a blazing smile.
Arthur could clearly see the calculus happening in Sal’s brain. He disliked Quinn, but he hated dentists more, and at least here there was wine and cheese.
“You can’t skip your appointment. Dr.Young made room in his schedule just for you,” Arthur insisted. Sal had attempted to get out of the routine cleaning by claiming he simply couldn’t go to the dentist during the day, as it wouldn’t be fitting for a nocturnal creature. Arthur had reminded him of the many other errands they managed just fine in the sunlight, but Sal had continued to wax poetic about his air of vampiric mystique. In the end, Arthur had arranged a nighttime appointment in a rather graceful checkmate. “Go on, we’ll be fine.”
