Page 10 of Shifters in the Night

Why would Zed say that? Did that mean that Jon had talked with Zed about her? Or maybe Zed had some sort of psychic power? Which did she prefer?

Lia shook her head, taking a moment to enjoy the warm spring-like breeze that seemed so alien in February. According to the long-range forecasts, they could expect nice mild temperatures and relatively little rain over the next few months, which was surprising, considering they were in Louisiana. She wondered if that had something to do with the “Mystic” part of Mystic Bayou. Did they have weather witches here, too?

Maybe she should focus on the ideas spinning around her head, a list of all the things that would make Mystic Bayou more habitable – restaurants and chain stores and maybe a reliable cell phone signal. It just felt like an untapped market for well, everything. Or was it presumptuous to think people wanted those things here? They’d survived for decades without them. Hell, the video store craze seemed to have bypassed this place entirely. Maybe they were happy with things as they were? Zed didn’t seem thrilled about the recent expansion. He would probably lose his mind if one of those much-dreaded tourists asked where they could get Starbucks.

Lia thought she should probably keep all of these thoughts to herself. Unless Zed was a psychic, and then she could be in some trouble.

Her phone rang in her bag, playing her mother’s classical ringtone. She pulled it out and swiped her thumb across the screen. Her mother’s regal, delicately shaped face appeared on the screen, of course, at the perfect angle. Katya Doe had nothing but good angles.

As usual, the background of her mother’s call was filled with tinkling laughter and conversation, over the faint ring of glasses being clinked together. While her parents were devoted to each other, they rarely spent time alone. They were always at some sort of gathering, usually involving champagne, whether it was a gallery showing, a theatre opening, or something equally pretentious.

“Mom? Where are you?” she asked, redirecting her steps towards a gazebo off the town square. Across the street, a strange fountain showed a variety of supernatural creatures shielded by the outstretched wings of a dragon. She sat on the swing in the middle of the gazebo, grateful for the chance to gaze upon it and take a break.

“Oh, we’re on Peter’s boat, darling. You know how your father enjoys a nice cruise over dinner and Peter is always so accommodating,” her mother cooed. “He’s such a good friend.”

“It’s barely lunchtime, Mom,” she said, shaking her head. Peter was her father’s boss. He was a perfectly nice venture capitalist who depended on Max’s negotiating skills to keep his business at the cutting edge of new technologies. Peter was terrified of losing Max as CFO, so Peter did anything he could to keep Max happy – dinners, vacations, cars. Lia wouldn’t be surprised if Peter found some excuse to give Max his boat one day.

Max had stayed with Peter for much longer than his average employer because Peter was a shifter as well and understood why Max didn’t age. Her parents were each around ninety years old and looked maybe forty. But eventually, staff would have to turn over or her father would have to change names and fudge his educational records and find some new company to work for. It was surprisingly easy, really. People didn’t want to ask too many questions when profits were high.

“How is Mystic Swamp?” Katya asked, wriggling her fingers at someone off-camera.

“It’s Mystic Bayou and it’s just fine, thank you,” Lia answered.

“Yes, but are you are making time for socializing?” Katya asked. “You know, Talia was asking about you for her Bertrand, just the other day.”

Lia barely restrained her eye roll. Bertrand Short was a perfectly nice hind male, and the son of one of Katya’s contacts. But the pair of them just didn’t suit. His only real advantage was his connection with her community, but that wasn’t enough.

“Bertrand and I tried dating when we were younger. It didn’t work out,” Lia said.

“Oh, you were barely older than fawns,” Katya scoffed. “You’re both grown now. And darling, it’s well past time to start thinking about your future.”

“Yes, Mom, but I’m having so much fun now,” Lia reminded her. “Work is exactly what I need right now. When I find the right person, I’ll let you know.”

Katya sighed and Lia knew she’d won. Her mother’s approach to the whole marriage issue was casual. She wanted Lia to get married because it was somewhat embarrassing for her fifty-plus-year-old daughter to still be single when she spoke to the other hind mothers. At the same time, Katya was certainly in no rush to become a grandmother. As expected, her mother dropped the subject fairly easily.

“All right, all right,” Katya huffed. “What are you wearing, by the way? Just because you’re in the backwoods doesn’t mean you should let yourself go, darling. I have an appointment with Sergio tomorrow. I’ll send you a few pieces.”

“That’s really sweet, but I don’t need your stylist picking out my clothes. I am a grown up and I buy my own wardrobe.”

“Let your mother fuss over you!” Katya exclaimed. “Oh, they’re about to serve the cheese course, darling. Must run.”

With that, Katya hung up as Lia waved. She knew it was unkind to think of her mother as a corporate wife cliché, but Katya checked all of the boxes – the non-stop strategic lunching, the fund-raising galas, the near-professional devotion to shopping. Katya saw it as her business to make sure Max never had to worry about little things like running their household or buying his own underwear. Honestly, she probably worked harder managing their finances and investments than Max did at the office. And Max enjoyed that arrangement as much as Katya did. They were really, sincerely happy. It worked for them.

Lia just didn’t think that she wanted a marriage like that. She didn’t want someone to take care of her financially. She wanted someone who saw her for who she was, who was OK with her being a workaholic, who thought she was funny. She wanted someone who thought about her emotions as much as she spent thinking about everyone else’s.

As she walked toward her office, Lia realized she had lied to her mother. She was not having fun right now. She enjoyed her work. She found it fulfilling, but she didn’t have a lot fun. She enjoyed spending time with some of her coworkers, but she couldn’t say she had many friends. How sad was it to realize she was a fifty-year-old woman with no real friends?

Her age was difficult for Lia in ways that her mother didn’t seem to experience. Lia still felt as young as she was on the outside but she had an extra twenty years of life on the people who thought of themselves as her peers. There were times when she was just so … tired of being in her thirties. People expected her to go go go all of the time and put her work first and go out and have fun and look her best and, dammit, she was fifty!

And as for the people she spent most of her time with? Well, there just weren’t a lot of women in the New Ground mobile operation. The guys were perfectly nice – Andy the construction manager and Eddie the transportation coordinator were particularly delightful – but they tended to assemble in the nearest bar and drink beer while watching whatever sport was on. That really wasn’t her thing. Also, Mystic Bayou didn’t even have a bar.

So how did she go about making her life more enjoyable? When was the last time she even had fun? Running in the woods near Jon’s house. That had been fun. Jumping in the water and swimming naked had been a lot of fun … getting the absolute hell scared out of her was less fun. But since then?

She thought back to her conversation in the grocery store with Jon the strange merman – how he’d made her laugh, the way he’d looked at her. Maybe she needed more Jon in her life. She was not opposed to that.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of New Ground’s “Mystic Bayou Corporate Headquarters,” a chrome-and-grey-laminate custom mobile home they were using as office space. She took a deep steadying breath and opened the door. The inside of the trailer was all black modern (plastic) furniture and silver-toned fixtures. The desks were completely clear of paperwork, because that’s how Victor liked it.

Victor Bannister was a particular man, and often difficult to work for, but he paid well and her performance-based bonuses had added up to a considerable nest-egg. One day she was going to … well, she hadn’t figured that out yet. Buy a house somewhere? Start her own company? Retire to a beach? For now, she was content with the way things were.

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