Page 69 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

Mischief showed itself in her smile. “By reminding him that without someone here to hold down the fort, the establishment would more than likely be shut down, and all the beaus disposed of. As for the beaus here, they were hesitant. I mean, when Ms. Broussard left for her cruise, she didn’t look nearly as stylish or chic as me, but when I told them I simply had a bit of cosmetic surgery to look like Bette Davis, my personal icon, they rolled with it.”

“You look nothing like Bette Davis,” Elliot pointed out. “I should know; Alexander made us watchAll About Evethe other day. I hate to say it, but I believe this situation is strikingly similar to the film.”

“It isn’t, actually, but I’m glad you enjoyed the movie. As I was saying, soon enough, my beaus found joy in their routine, and their spirits lifted. Seeing them take pride in their work and become more confident in their roles made my heart swell with pride.” She looked down at Elliot’s tummy. “But I think of all the beaus currently in this home, I’m proudest of you, sugar.” She stood and grabbed a file folder. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

She led them down the stairs, which Elliot wasn’t terribly happy about, as his legs were still wobbly from his trip up them a few minutes earlier. Once they were in the foyer, she led them through the lounge, past the ballroom, into the library, and then toward the bookshelf on the far end of the hall. With practiced precision, she tugged at a copy of a book calledThe Right Side of The Rainbowby AnnaLeigh White. Once it was out of its place on the shelf, Mrs. Peppercorn pressed a small, black button. Through the walls, there was the sound of metal scraping against metal as the bookshelf opened. Snapping her fingers three times, she stared back toward the door leading into the library. Sure enough, moments later, Periwinkle appeared. He rushed to her side, beaming brightly.

“Yes, Mum?” he asked. Elliot liked that Periwinkle had found a true mother in Mrs. Peppercorn. At first, during their time on the cruise, Elliot thought he might like Mrs. Peppercorn to claim him as her son as well, but then he got to know Ms. Twylah. Elliot was sure she would allow him to call her Mom, but he didn’t know if he was ready to ask permission yet. Not until the wedding, at least.

“Be a good boy and take this book out back.”

Periwinkle cocked his head to the side. “Why am I taking it outside?”

Mrs. Peppercorn narrowed her eyes at the book as if it was the most offensive thing she’d ever seen. “You remember AnnaLeigh, don’t you?”

Periwinkle nodded. “She writes those books you won’t allow me to read.”

“Books no one should be reading,” she said with a scoff. “The woman wrote absolute filth.” She opened the book, her cheeks sucking in and puffing out, pooling saliva before spitting it directly onto the page. “Straight-for-you isn’t a thing. Make better life choices, AnnaLeigh. Well, she’s dead now, so I don’t think she’ll be making any choices going forward, but you know what I mean.” She handed the book to Elliot. “I want you to take this out back and throw it in the swamp. Hopefully an alligator will eat it.”

Periwinkle nodded once before clutching the book to his chest. He rocked up and down on the balls of his foot. “I’ll do it now.” As he whirled around, he hollered, “Arthur! We’re going to swim with alligators!”

Mrs. Peppercorn shouted, “Oh, no you won’t!” behind him, but he was too busy rushing out of the room to respond.

The mechanical sounds in the wall grew louder, and then the bookshelf retracted and slid into the wall, creating a doorway and revealing a flight of stairs leading down. Elliot knew where the stairs would take him. He was led there many times during his multiple reprogrammings. While he could remember the visits to Mother’s right-hand man’s workspace, he could never remember what happened after. He didn’t know the layout of the room or what was inside, only the way to get there.

She led them down a small hallway, toward a large industrial-style door. There was a keypad above the handle, and Mrs. Peppercorn typed a long code of numbers before the locks disengaged and the door swung open. She gave the door a proud nod and walked through, into the Creationist’s lair.

There was a single operating table in the center of the room, and large computer screens lined the walls. On each screen were various photographs of Elliot, as well as charts with lines and words Elliot didn’t understand. But there, right in the center of the back wall, was a streaming video that made Elliot’s heart slam in his chest.

On the screen Honey Davenport was curled inside what Elliot imagined was his tummy. He reached down and placed his hand on his stomach and, just as she always did, Honey leaned into the touch, pressing her face against Elliot’s palm.

Elliot slowly walked to the screen with her sleeping face displayed. Behind him, Alexander and Mrs. Peppercorn were speaking, but Elliot couldn’t hear a single word. All he could do was stare at Honey. The way she sucked her thumb. How each time a sharp twinge of heartburn spiked in his chest, she would tug the umbilical cord like she was trying to pull Elliot’s attention back to her. A pair of arms wrapped around Elliot’s waist, pulling him to rest against Alexander as they both took in the sight of their child.

There was the sound of a toilet flushing, then running water from a tap. A few moments later, a door opened, and a man exited the private bathroom, drying his hands on his trousers. He looked to be around fifty years old, and he had wild red curls in his hair. Tragic hair aside, he was a very attractive older man, and Elliot thought he looked like a bit of a father figure. Perhaps he was. If this was the Creationist, he was the one responsible for Elliot’s birth.

Without a word of introduction, the man approached the operating table, patting it with his hand. There was a small rolling stool beside the table, and the man took a seat. He was holding a manilla file folder, and as Elliot stared on, the man shuffled through the papers.

He patted the table again, not looking up. “Elliot. Now, please.”

Elliot shared a glance with Alexander, then with Mrs. Peppercorn, who nodded, smiling warmly.

“Go on, sugar. Hop up there. He’s here to help.”

The man looked up at her, arching an eyebrow. “I’m here because you stormed this home in the dead of night, stole my pet, and threatened to kill him if I didn’t do your bidding.” Though the accusation was harsh, the man sounded bored by the situation entirely.

Mrs. Peppercorn shook her head, scoffing. “Hogwash. You’re here because you care about these boys. You can deny it until you’re blue in the face; I see the way you look at them. They’re your babies, baby. You made them from scratch; there’s going to be an attachment there. Even if I gave you your little pet back, I think we both know you’d still stick around.”

Alexander leaned in, whispering to Elliot, “I don’t understand what’s happening right now.” Elliot shrugged, because he wasn’t too sure, either, but he knew better than to interrupt Mrs. Peppercorn.

“Then why don’t you just give him back?” the Creationist asked.

Mrs. Peppercorn pointed at Elliot. “Call it an insurance policy. Once we’ve got this all sorted, I’ll give you your precious pet. I’m not a monster, for God’s sake. He’s getting along with all the beaus upstairs.”

The Creationist’s hand balled into a fist, his knuckles going white. “You tell them, if they even think of touching him—”

Mrs. Peppercorn lifted her hands. “Enough. Enough of this.” She turned and looked at Elliot. “One of our boys needs us, sugar.”

“One ofyourboys?” Alexander asked.

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