Page 6 of Dead & Breakfast
“Salvatore!”
“What? You know I’m right—there must besomethingsalacious between them.”
Arthur dusted his hands on his apron and cleared his throat, determined to steer the conversation back toward the intended rails. “I want this business to flourish and that’s not going to happen unless we can get some social capital in this town. So, Quinn’s opinion of us matters a great deal, actually.”
“I’ve never allowed others’ opinions of me a moment’s thought. Why start now?”
“Trident Falls could be good to us if we let it.”
“If we let it?” Salvatore spluttered. He dragged two truly disgusting cotton balls from his mouth, holding them aloft like grenades. “I don’t know why you insist on acting as though it’s our fault the town doesn’t like us. We are who we are, and if they don’t want us, I don’t know why you’d want them.”
Arthur sighed and passed Salvatore the garbage bin for his cotton. It was the same argument they always had. Salvatore wanted to be his full vampiric self and let the town figure out how to feel about it, while Arthur wanted to show Trident Falls how normal two vampires could be. If only their neighbors knew there was nothing to fear, the Iris Inn would be a staple of Trident Falls, and Salvatore and Arthur beloved members of the community. All his life—and undeath—he’d never felt like he belonged anywhere, except perhaps hand in hand with Sal. Fitting in would be a novel experience for him and he wanted very badly to know what it was like.
“Let’s not fight,” Arthur said finally as the oven beeped to signal it was preheated. “We don’t need our guest seeing us like this.”
“Fine! But as God is my witness, I shall never go to the dentist again.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God.” Arthur slid the biscuits onto the middle rack, then started the timer.
“I’m not Catholic—there’s a difference. The better to bypass holy symbols.”
Arthur, who’d been Jewish all his life and remained so in undeath, had never really understood Salvatore’s religious inclinations. Over the years, Sal had told countless stories that all seemed to contradict one another, as though he’d tried on a dozen religions before landing on his current flavor: Unitarian Universalist.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just be atheist, then?”
“Easier, perhaps, but one can’t help what one believes. I can lieall I want to the world, but it’s what’s in here that really counts.” He pointed to his chest. “If I must believe in God, the least I can do is be practical about it.”
At first, Arthur had thought Sal’s conversion was the least logical move possible. Vampires, after all, were weakened by holy symbols of their faith, and Unitarian Universalist encompassed so many beliefs. But, as it turned out, their nondenominational leanings meant Salvatore was exempt from almost all holy safeguards against vampires and could walk through life unafraid of religious iconography. He had only one weakness: the Coexist bumper sticker.
“Suit yourself,” Arthur said with a shrug before turning back to his baking. A high-pitched sound made him nearly jump out of his skin—a feat he was, as a relatively young vampire, entirely incapable of—but the timer still had a few minutes left.
“Is that a cat?” Salvatore moseyed toward the glass sliding doors leading to the garden, where, lo and behold, a cat pawed at the door, letting out meows pitiful enough to rival Salvatore with a head cold.
It was an adult cat, but on the smaller side, with scruffy black fur and piercing green eyes. Arthur mentally cataloged its state, noting the few burrs stuck to its side and the way one eye wouldn’t open all the way.
“Must be a stray.” Arthur took two steps toward the door, then stopped. A completely feral cat wouldn’t approach people like this. “I bet it was abandoned by the road.”
“Poor thing,” Salvatore said. “Do we feed it?”
“Someone’s got to.” Arthur grabbed a shallow bowl and splashed some milk in it. “I can buy it healthy cat food later—”
“You’re going to let it go hungry all morning, then make it eat health food? You might as well become a dentist.” Salvatore took the dish of milk and opened the door. For a moment, Arthur worried the cat would rush inside, but it darted back into the garden,almost out of sight. Salvatore set the bowl down and closed the door.
Gradually, the cat returned. It looked from the door to the milk, then began lapping it up.
Salvatore smiled, his earlier rantings mellowed by the sight. Arthur didn’t care much for cats. He wasn’t allergic. He was just ever-so-slightly put off by their perceptive eyes and the way they always landed on their feet.
“Let’s get back to it,” Arthur said. “Lots to make before our guest wakes up.”
Guest.It felt so wonderful to say.
Together, they made turkey sausage, waffles, and three different kinds of eggs. Arthur considered setting up an omelet bar, but Salvatore scoffed and said, “What army do you think you’re feeding?”
“We must be sure to serve something she likes. Oh no, what if she’s vegan?” Arthur wiped his hands on his floral apron—a gift from Salvatore when they’d signed the papers for the bed-and-breakfast—and took a deep breath.
“She isn’t,” Salvatore said.
“She could be!”
