Page 21 of One Night with Her Grumpy Orc

“How’s the library, dear?” Ravena asks as she sprinkles cinnamon on top of the latte’s foam.

“It’s coming along nicely. We painted yesterday. I think another week and it should be ready to reopen. Need to finish the outside and rebuild shelves. Then clean.” Deep breath. “But you’ll never guess what August found while clearing out old boxes yesterday!”

“August has been such an excellent addition to the library, hasn’t she?” Ravena’s eyes sparkle—a glint like she knows already. Then she turns to make Grev’s tea.

“She found these ancient books. Leather bound. Gold lettering. They’re exquisite. I think they are journals.” Ravena’s hands still as she listens to me. “Judging by the little bit I read—”

That does it. Her head snaps up, and the fierceness on her face is angry, and a little sad. “You shouldn’t read them. No good will come from them.”

“Do you want them back?” I ask, voice just a whisper. I don’t want to be on her bad side. Not after what I read.

“It’s better if they stay with the library. Or burned. But I don’t have the heart to do it myself. Did you pick out a pastry?”

“That cranberry orange muffin, please.” They remind me of my grandma. And the tang is the perfect balance to the overly sweet coffee I’m about to drink.

“You always have great taste, Betty. Books, flavor combinations, and now grumpy orcs. You are a great connoisseur. I admire the way you put things together.”

“Thanks.” Her comment takes me aback. I wasn’t expecting such a compliment.

“Now, come sit and enjoy breakfast with your sweetie pie. And if you could—please keep those books to yourself. I’ll trust you’ll find the right bonfire for them.” She winks as she picks up our tray and carries it to where Grev is sitting with his eyes closed, expecting me to follow.

We eat in small silences. It’s delicious and perfect. Grev talks about his plans for spring. I tell him about the new books releasing this quarter that I’m excited about. At some point, Ravena’s crow flies in, swooping past us, then resting on its perch in the front corner where it can keep an eye on everyone. Grev eyes the crow with suspicion, then reaches out for my hand and caresses it while we finish our beverages.

Ravena is quiet in the back. Occasionally I hear pans clang together, reminding us that she’s here, baking. But she doesn’t check on us, which is fine by me. I do not speak to him about my conversation with Ravena. I don’t know how much he heard, nor do I want to betray whatever delicate trust lies between her and me.

Eventually, other people arrive for their morning jolt of caffeine, and Ravena comes alive with chit chat as the café bustles. It’s as if the café’s energy mimics her own, or possibly the other way around.

“Do you think the superintendent will support a re-opening party for the library?” Grev asks. The question takes me by surprise. Silent, crowd-avoiding Grev wants to have a party? At the library?

“I doubt it, but I’ll be sure to tell you so you can stay home.”

“Why would I stay home?” The crease between his eyebrows deepens more than normal.

“You were upset when we stayed open for carolers. You’ve never been one to enjoy festivities at the library.” I smile, reminding him that I have paid attention to him this past year.

“Oh. No, I had plans. I was going to ask you to go to the choir concert. But it was the same night.”

“You were going to a concert? And you wrote a letter to my boss!” I have my doubts. But then the words hit new. “You were going to ask me to go with you? Like, on a date?”

“Sorry about that. I needed an outlet for my annoyance.” He has the good grace to look ashamed at that. “We’re dating now, aren’t we?” He winks.

“I know we are dating now. But it took being half-frozen together in the library for it to happen! You never expressed any interest before.”

“Betty, I told you. I’ve always been interested. But my life is boring. I don’t scale mountains and risk my life to rescue people. I don’t make amazing food and drinks and create an atmosphere where people want to belong. Hell, I don’t make amazing art. I’m just...me. I build useful things, but that’s about it.”

“Grev,” I cup his cheek with my hand and lean in close to him, “that’s why I love you. Because you’re you. I don’t need danger or prestige or entrepreneurship to be happy or interested or intrigued. I’ve never wanted those things. That’s why I have books.”

“If you want to go to a concert, I’d love to take you. Also, I think you should have a party to celebrate the re-opening of the library. The town needs the library. It needs you.”

---