Page 7 of Never Been Gargoyled
I’d send her running before this place got under her skin.
Before it was too late and she got under mine.
Chapter 5
Dazy
Islept fantastic, just what I needed before I tackled my new home. Everything felt better when the sun was shining, and it was looking like it would be a perfect day.
My biggest issue was food. I drove here expecting to arrive in daylight, unpack my car, and do a little shopping, but a road had washed out. By the time I backtracked and found a new route to take, it was dark when I arrived. My belly rumbled, telling me that a glass of wine and a book would not sustain her.
Sitting up, I stretched and glanced around the room with a happy smile. The few cobwebs draping here and there would need to be removed, and I’d rehome any spiders I found outside, but I’d picked the perfect bedroom. Big, wide open, and a relatively comfortable bed.
I scooted out from beneath the warm covers and walked into the bathroom, where I washed and brushedmy teeth, combed my rat’s nest hair, and bound it in a braid. Thick and curly and much too red, it could be a problem child, but my mom had the same hair. I only vaguely remember her from when I was little since she died in a car accident, and I’d gone to live with my dad who I wasn’t very close to. They’d split before I was born and while he’d raised me, he hadn’t been the loving type.
Whenever I looked in the mirror and saw this hair, however, I thought of Mom and smiled.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, I took the stairs to the first floor and walked around to get an idea of what I was dealing with here. The original floors looked decent. They’d only need a solid buffing and a good coat of poly. Same with the original trim that had been nicely maintained. The kitchen looked like it had stepped out of the 1960s, but retro was in, right? I could strip and paint the cabinets and replace the appliances. The money Helga left me along with the estate should be enough to do the most-needed things inside the house. Hard physical work on my part would restore the gardens.
Once I’d opened my botanical gardens to the public and started seeing some income, I could carefully pick away at other needs inside and outside the manor house.
I lugged everything in from my car and stared forlornly at my too-few possessions. I’d packed the few things I couldn’t bear to give away in Dad’s garage, but that was a six-hour drive from here. I’d only brought what was vital and would slowly move the rest when I had space and time.
Inside my car, I started it up and drove to the centerof Harmony Glen, looking for a supermarket. While I didn’t find one, and might need to travel to a nearby town to do major shopping, someone in the hardware store directed me to a troll farmer’s market and a bakery run by an orc, called Dorvak’s Breads.
I loved seeing monsters around town. My great-aunt had adored it too, so that made me smile as well. I was a smiley person; no harm in that.
The bakery was next to the library, a place I needed to visit soon. I adored books of all genres, and while I’d seen some in my great-aunt’s library, most looked quite old. Not that I wouldn’t find treasures among them, but from a quick glance, it appeared my aunt had been into birding and architecture, not topics I was highly interested in. I was a fiction girly through and through.
I parked in front and took a moment to breathe in the sweet, yeasty scent that wafted through the open bakery door. My stomach growled.
Inside, it felt like I was standing near a hearth. I took in the scuffed wooden floors and old brick walls. Loaves of bread sat cooling on wire racks on a back counter, steam curling up from their crusts. More bread had been sliced and packaged and laid in a rack.
I adored sweets. Some would say they were my downfall, but I saw them as fairy food. The more I ate, the more fae I’d become. It made sense in theory.
A very large orc stood behind the counter, dressed in a white apron dusted with flour and brown flecks that could be cinnamon. His green skin had a dusky tone to it, and his arms were thick enough to make kneading doughlook like child’s play. He was handsome in a glowering sort of way, with a sharp jaw, tusks, and brows drawn down like I’d personally offended him by walking inside the shop.
“Morning,” I chirped, entirely undeterred by the growl of a man behind the counter. I was one of those people who would get louder and perkier when I encountered gloomy people. Like it was my duty to provide much-needed balance. “This place smells amazing,” I added when he didn’t return my greeting.
He grunted. No follow-up. Just that.
My grin widened anyway. “I’m new in town. I moved into the old manor house on Winterbourne Avenue. You may have known my great-aunt, Helga. She was in a nursing home the past few years and when she sadly passed, she left the estate to me.”
“Feydin hasn’t driven you away?”
I lifted my brows. “Feydin?”
His glower only deepened. “You haven’t met him yet.”
“I haven’t met anyone yet. Just you.” I gave him a toothy smile.
He grunted again.
“Yes, well… I thought I’d stop in and introduce myself to my new carb source.”
Another grunt, one that might meango on.
“Do you bake all this bread yourself?” I asked.
