Page 12 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
The rhododendrons in front are starting to bloom, and while they’re overgrown and showy, I don’t think it’s the time to cut them back. Same with the blue-purple hydrangeas. I rake underneath them so that they’re tidy and gather the plant debris in a burlap bag.
As I progress around the outside of the hotel, I find some gopher holes.
Time to get to work for real.
Placing my sword on the ground next to me, I sit on my haunches in an area with a larger concentration of holes. I let out a low whistle and wait. It doesn’t take long for a small pile of dirt to get bigger and bigger until I see a gray-brown nose snuffling up.
Beady eyes catch mine. “Prince Kalle!”
Pulling back my hood, I give the gopher a finger wave. “Hey, little guy.”
He turns around and disappears, then comes back with three of his family members. “Look! See, I told you Prince Kalle was here!”
Giving them my most regal nod, I spread my hands. “I thought I’d do some work for the hotel.”
“It’s nice to see you!” one of them says.
“Likewise,” I say. “But I hear you guys are causing some problems.”
They blink at me innocently. “What kind of problems?”
I gesture to the holes. “I’ve been asked to help you find another place to dine.”
The first one whines. “But the roots here are so yummy.”
“That may be, but your tunnels pose a risk for humans. Do you want that?”
They shake their heads.
“Isn’t there somewhere else you could go?” I ask.
“Not one that’s free from owls,” one says. They all shudder.
We brainstorm for a few minutes until they agree to try another area where they will be less likely to cause people to twist an ankle.
“Say,” I ask hesitantly, “you haven’t happened to see my brother lately, have you? Prince Mats?”
They again shake their heads in unison. “We love Prince Mats, but we haven’t seen him.”
I sigh heavily and lower my head. “Okay. Can you keep an eye out?”
“Both eyes!” Apparently, they talked with the pigeons.
“Thank you,” I say.
I check the sky. It’s about time to take a break for breakfast. Should I go to the hotel restaurant or the café next door?
The café sounds like it might have more traffic. More people who might know where Mats is. Decision made, then. It could be boring to sit in a café without a book, but I need to stay focused on my task.
I clean up my equipment and put it away, pull my hood over my head, then cross the plaza, greeting the pigeons, and head to the coffee shop.
A bell chimes when I open the door. I walk inside, and I look up to see a very tattooed man standing behind the counter, wiping a large, gleaming machine down with a white cloth. He’s standing next to another man who also has short dark hair.
The tattooed man turns, and I realize he is the man I met yesterday. He’s wearing a white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled and a black apron with leather straps over it. It makes him look industrious and hip.
“Can I help you?” he asks, after he finishes up with the customer in front of me.
We lock eyes, and the feeling that passes between us makes my skin prickle in pleasure.
