Page 28 of The Gathering Storm

One shoulder lifted under the loose fabric of his plaid button down. “Her term of duty was up. She was a guard here, you know? And she got a better offer after her contract was up and…”

When he didn’t continue, Sigrid filled in the missing words. Andrea moved on, breaking George’s heart in the process.

Raw indignation filled Sigrid. The men brought here to supplement the IECS’s staff were under the protection of the women heading the departments in which they worked, or if not them, then under Rebecca’s protection. They were to be treated with dignity and respect, and while matches were encouraged, love or otherwise, the men were subject to many of the same laws and customs as beloved Sons.

Sigrid had no Son of her own, though she’d had several grandsons over the centuries, enough to understand exactly how hard their lives could be when a Daughter spurned them.

“Look at me,” she said, and waited until he obeyed before continuing. “You will come with me to The Omega where we will order a hearty meal and you will relate every detail of your time with this Daughter to me.”

He opened his mouth, likely on a refusal, and she shushed him with a tersely spoken, “No arguments.” It was time she assumed full responsibility for her assistant, as was her duty, and past time she helped him overcome this heartbreak, one way or another.

By the time Will arrived at his parents’ bar at four that afternoon, the sky was overcast and the air held the distinct bite of snow. Inside, men and women alike huddled near the TV hung in one corner of the main room, watching a fast-paced college basketball game. Both pool tables had games going, and a third of the dining tables held small groups chatting over beer and finger food.

Eric was manning the bar again. Will caught his eye and waved, then met the other man at the end of the bar. “How’s school going?”

Eric shrugged broad shoulders under his black company polo. “It’s school. Why?”

“You up for extra hours on a regular basis?”

“I told you, man. I can always use the duckies.”

“Get me your class schedule for this semester and we’ll work something out.”

Eric dropped his chin and stared at Will through thick, black eyelashes. The onyx plugs in his earlobes flashed above the black line tattoo inked into his neck. “Is this about all the people coming in? I mean, we always get a couple of new faces every week, but never this many at once.”

Will pressed his lips into a firm line, hesitating as he measured Eric’s safety against the People’s needs. On the one hand, the mundane mortal was in no real danger as long as he kept his nose clean, and Eric was good at minding his own. On the other hand, if something was coming, maybe it would be better to move him out of harm’s way until the storm blew over and life returned to normal, if it ever did.

If there were someone to replace the bartender, Will wouldn’t hesitate, but there was no one, and with Will’s steadily increasing duties, he couldn’t fill in himself.

Oh, the life of a small business manager.

Finally, Will shook his head. “Yes and no. I have some other things to take care of for a while, but yeah, we’re probably going to have a lot of new arrivals soon. I’d appreciate the help.”

Eric snorted and flipped a bar towel over his shoulder. “Hell, man. You’re the one doing me the favor. Do you know how much my student loans are?”

Will clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Two words, man. Trade school.”

“Yeah, you tell my ma that.”

“I’ve got my own mom to deal with.” And boy, was she going to be interested in what was going on between Will and Sigrid. Speaking of. “You know the tall, leggy blonde who comes in here and bickers with Moira?”

Eric paused in the act of returning to his post. “Yeah, sure.”

“When she gets here, send somebody to come get me.”

A slow smile stretched Eric’s mouth against his honey colored skin. “I’d like me a piece of that.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Do I look stupid?” Eric shook his head and wandered off to help a customer, and Will slapped through the swinging door leading to the kitchen.

Work absorbed his attention for the next hour and a half, in between the minor emergencies that always cropped up. Casey popped her head into his office and relayed a message from Eric, who’d forgotten to tell Will they were running short on some of the local microbrews. Wayne, the lead line cook, came in fifteen minutes later and reported that a leak had developed in one of the kitchen’s coolers.

Nothing Will could do about either one on a Saturday night. He jotted notes into his calendar and tucked it into his bag. Calls could be made from home on Monday morning when he woke up. No need to come into work unless Casey couldn’t make it in that day, and she was scheduled to. Will had a feeling if he started giving up his one full day off, it’d be a long time before he’d get a another break.

About an hour after Will settled behind his desk, his cellphone beeped. He thumbed into the text message, read Casey’s warning that Sigrid had entered the bar, and checked the time. 5:23. Hunh. They must be unusually busy out front if nobody could come back and get him.

He shuffled paperwork into piles or folders, then trotted through the backrooms into the bar proper. Sure enough, the tables were steadily filling up. People lined the bar, not so many they were jampacked, but enough to have Eric hopping to fill orders.

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