Page 5 of Orc Charming

“When I pay you, you can buy your own things, but payday is on Thursday and it’s only Tuesday. I’ll float you some cash. I know a great thrift place, though they’re closed today. We’ll go tomorrow.”

I owed her so much already, for being kind and generous, and for giving me employment.

Maybe I hadn’t thought this through enough. I saw my chance to leave and did, not knowing where I’d end up. I boarded a bus, spending all the cash I had for my ticket, and got off at the last stop—here.

We left the empty diner, stepping out into the late afternoon sunshine. Fall had arrived with trees changing colors and a crispness in the air that hinted at winter.

“What’s it like in the orc kingdom?” she asked as we walked down a street. A few humans gawked at me while others ignored us. We didn’t encounter other orcs, but I assumed some must live in town.

Hopefully they wouldn’t recognize me.

I pondered her question for a moment, trying to find the right words. I decided to give her some truth without revealing my identity yet. “As you know, it's hidden deep within a long mountain range. We have big cities in enormous underground valleys. We live a lot like humans, strangely enough.”

“What did you do while you lived there?”

“I was . . . part of the administration.”

“I see.” She urged me to turn right at an intersection, taking a street leading away from the sea. “I read a new delegation had arrived to add to the treaty. Are you with them?” Her rueful laugh rang out. “Wait. Of course you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be here in Settler’s Cove. You’d be with the others, sitting in a conference room and not,” she spread her arms and spun around laughing, “not enjoying the smell of the sea and everything this cute little town has to offer.”

“You like it here.”

“I love it.” Her eyes gleamed. “I was born a few towns over, and I’ve lived here since I could crawl. After my dad died when I was eight, Mom sold the bigger house they’d lived in and bought a cottage. She left it and the diner to me.”

“A job and a home.”

“Right? It’s more than most have.” Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel bad about your situation.”

I tried not to cringe. It felt wrong to be dishonest with her, but it was freeing not to have an entourage with me wherever Iwent. Even more, it was freeing to talk with a woman without her gushing about my role in the kingdom. “I do well, and, hey, I worked today and my paycheck’s coming.”

“You made tips, too.”

“Yes, it felt strange to have people give me money.”

“Servers don’t make much. Mom paid me well, and I kept my tips, so you’ll see the same.” Her cheeks pinkened. “I mean, if you want to work with me another day.”

Before I could shout yes, she turned toward a small cottage painted light blue with white trim. A white picket fence with chipped paint surrounded the patch of grass in front. It was pretty, with flowers blooming in boxes beneath the windows as well as along the stone path marching toward the front door nestled in the middle of a front porch.

She creaked the gate open, and we stepped inside. After closing it, she led me up to her house, unlocking the front door and urging me inside.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said with a happy smile. “It was sad to be here right after Mom died but now the memory of her working at the kitchen counter or sitting on the porch makes me smile. I’m trying to focus on the good because life’s too short to wallow in the bad. Having her in my life for twenty-eight years was a gift I’m grateful to have.”

“I’ve painted,” I said.

“Oh, really?” She shut the door behind us and turned toward the open living area with a couch, a TV, a recliner chair, and long wall shelf overloaded with books. “Do you paint landscapes or . . .”

“I could paint your fence to thank you for your generosity.”

“That’s sweet of you.” She huffed. “It’s one more in a long list of tasks I need to do. The diner keeps me busy five days a week, and frankly, when I’m off, I like to putter in the garden or walk on the beach.”

“I’ve dabbled in various mediums, experimenting to find my true passion.” With my father running everything, I had to keep busy. Music and art were encouraged. “Who knows? Maybe someday I'll create something that moves people. Anyway, I’ll paint your fence, freeing you to do the things you enjoy.”

“It sounds like you plan to be in town for a while.”

Her voice came out neutral, but I realized I was making assumptions. “I meant if I stayed here long.”

“That’s up to you. My couch is yours for as long as you need it.”

Fortunately, it was an oversized couch. At least my feet wouldn’t hang off the end.

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