Page 125 of Beyond the Cottage

“A senator’s wife. She married young, when she was naive and dewy-eyed. Now she’s sick of being his glorified housekeeper. She’s testing the waters for her own political career.”

Gretta’s brow shot up. For a hermit from the sticks, he was shockingly good at this.

“Close,” she said. “Her husband is the mayor, and she got elected to senate last year.”

Ansel flashed her a cocky smile.

“Hmm,” she said, searching the room.

She was running out of compelling characters. She considered a boy in his late teens. Chest puffed, he gazed adoringly at his beer, oblivious to the foam mustache clinging to the peach-fuzz on his upper lip. “Him?”

“Too easy,” Ansel said. “His big brother thinks he’s old enough to try his first beer. Their mother will murder them both when she smells it on his breath.”

Glass shattered. Heads collectively swiveled. At the end of the bar, a nymph darted to her feet, arms spread, mouth agape. Her flushed cheeks matched the wine stain soiling her gown.

A troll sat beside her. He leaned back with his elbows on the bar, eyes roaming the beleaguered nymph. He shrugged apologetically, but a smile played at his lips.

The room went so quiet, Gretta heard flatware clatter in the kitchen.

“How clumsy I am,” the troll said. “Apologies.”

The nymph shrieked at her ruined dress. “You did that onpurpose.”

“Never say so. I’m merely an ungainly beast. A bit of bumbling comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

The nymph’s delicate hands clenched. Though the troll outweighed her four times over, she stepped to him, getting in his face. “I see rudeness does, too. If you heard something youdisliked, maybe you shouldn’t have eavesdropped on a private conversation.”

“If you’re so offended by strangers minding their own business, maybe you ought to scurry back to your little forest.”

“Maybe trolls should have never come out from under their stinking bridges!”

The room collectively gasped. The troll stood, and the nymph stumbled back a step.

“Allow me to replace your drink.” He sniffed in her direction. “Cheap red, was it?”

“You’ll replace mygown, you stupid oaf!”

Cool as he pleased, the troll produced a thick billfold and sprinkled cash at her feet with a grin.

Two servers finally intervened, and they ushered the nymph away because they had no hope of moving her adversary. As they hauled her off, promising to comp her bill, the troll doffed his hat and strolled from the restaurant.

When the room resumed its noisy chatter, Ansel and Gretta stared at each other.

“Wow,” she said. “Alright. Tell me their story.”

“She insulted him. He overheard and—”

“Boring. You can do better.”

They watched the nymph lay into the servers. The manager scampered over, hand on his chest.

Ansel’s dark eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “They’ve met before.”

“Have they?” Gretta’s lips curled. “Where?”

“A grocery store.”

She shook her head.

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