Page 56 of Tourist Season
“Nolan Rhodes, sir.” Nolan extends a hand past me, and though it takes Arthur a beat to move, he accepts the handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”
I suppress the urge to groan, but only barely.Of courseNolanwould lay his accent on a little thicker and put on his most charming facade for Arthur. All I need is for these two to suddenly become friends. “Nolan, this is Arthur, and that’s Lukas.”
“Good to meet you,” Lukas says, and though Nolan replies with the same, it feels cold, summoning a chill across my skin. When I peek up at Nolan, he’s closer than I thought he’d be, his presence looming only an inch from my back. His attention shifts from Lukas to me, dropping to linger on my lips. Blood dances in my veins. I give him a quirked brow, an unvoiced question. When his eyes latch to mine once more, he backs up a step, then sits. The distance between us is a cold whisper in my flesh.
I clear my throat and give a little shake of my head. When I turn my attention back to Lukas, he looks puzzled. “All okay?”
“Of course,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “Just wondering what took you so long.”
A slow, sardonic grin slides across Lukas’s lips, summoning a ball of dread into my flip-flopping guts. “You must have put the house keys in the dishwasher, Harper. It took me forever to find them.”
Shit. “I absolutelydid not—”
Arthur hits me with one of his lightless, menacing stares. “Why would you put them there? If you wish to clean them, Harper, use the silverware polish if you must. It was an infuriating search.”
Judgy bus, Lukas mouths over the top of Arthur’s head as he settles his grandfather into the seat next to mine.
“But—”
Lukas’s eyes light with sparks of vengeance. “Judgy bus, Harper,” he whispers. “Just let it happen.”
“Harper,” Arthur barks, and I cringe. “The hedges need to be trimmed.”
I dart a glare at Lukas, whose smile only widens. I try not tolook too petulant when I turn my attention to the old man, who glares at me over the rims of his reading glasses. “I can start them this week—”
“Intoshapes.”
“W-what?” I ask, though Arthur has shifted his focus to his playbill, pinching the arm of his probably ridiculously expensive reading glasses as he skims the details. A thick swallow slides down my throat. Dread slinks down my spine. Lukas can barely contain his glee. I cast a glance to Nolan on my other side, though I don’t know why. He might look a little perplexed, but I’m sure he’s busy trying to devise ways to increase my future suffering. I return my attention to Arthur, my voice thin and tight when I say, “What kind of shapes?”
Arthur waves a hand toward me, not looking up from the paper. “Animals. A swan for the boxwood in the center of the circular drive—”
“But—”
“And a series of native species for the yews in the front garden. Perhaps a bear. Maybe a moose, but it must be majestic. Befitting of Lancaster Manor.”
Lukas hides his laugh in his fist, barely keeping it under control when I reach past Arthur to smack him in the arm. “I’ve gotta go get ready,” he says, backing away toward the aisle. “Don’t want to be late for opening night. Have fun.”
“Break both legs. Maybe also your hands while you’re at it.”
“Doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. You’ll get to do the gutters next time if I do.” With a wink and then a nod to Nolan, Lukas turns and strides away.
“Arthur, I don’t know anything about topiary,” I say, clutching my popcorn to my chest as I lower to sit between the two men. “How am I supposed to make a moose?”
“Practice, Harper. Use your own garden.” Arthur takes a fistful of popcorn without even looking in my direction. “We nearly lost the best garden award to Sarah Winkle last season. We need to come out with something spectacular.”
He’s right, we do need to come out with something spectacular. Arthur is too curmudgeonly and I’m too taciturn to join something as sociable as the gardening club, and those fuckers have been banding together to take us down. I’m afraid there aren’t enough deserving dead tourists to win against their creativity on the quality of the blooms alone. “I’m just not sure a topiary moose is going to seal the deal for best garden of Cape Carnage, Arthur.”
Nolan takes his own successful swipe at my popcorn. “Especially not if it winds up looking like a hunk of ballmeat.”
When I slice a glare in his direction, his eyes brighten with amusement. And while I’m distracted, Arthur takes his chance to steal another handful of popcorn. With an exasperated sigh, I shove the whole bucket in his direction and stand, rogue kernels falling from my skirt. “Trade places with me please, Arthur.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“If you move, you can more comfortably share your popcorn with this”—I wave a hand in the general direction of Nolan behind me—“thingover here, instead of both of you reaching over me. Plus, you’ll be smack in the center of the row. Best seat in the house.”
“Where are you going,” he demands, rather than asks.
I start moving past him, the patrons a few seats away shifting to make room for me to exit the aisle. “To get my own popcorn. Maybe I’ll go backstage and see if Lukas needs help with his costume.”
