Page 39 of The Orc That Got Away

“Bye!” Amelia tells us, hopping out of the booth and scampering towards her stepfather. Bradford watches her go, shaking his head.

“Saved by Gorlag,” he murmurs.

“I hope Amelia wasn’t annoying you,” Emily says quickly.

“No!” Bradford reassures her. “Although she did want to know if I was going to be her uncle anytime soon. Since Ragnar let it slip that we spend the night together.”

Emily laughs. “Well, since she brought it up, is it wrong to admit that I’m wondering that, too?”

I roll my eyes at Bradford. “Ever notice how all married people want their friends to get married, too?”

Bradford grins. “I’ve noticed that, yeah.”

“Fine, ignore the old married woman,” Emily sighs theatrically. “I’ll be back for your order soon.”

“Thanks, Emily,” I tell her. I pick up the menu, but notice that my phone is buzzing in my pocket. I sigh and put it on the table.

“You’re popular this morning,” Bradford says as the buzzing stops, then almost immediately resumes. “Are you sure everything is okay? It’s not a family emergency or anything, is it?”

“Nothing like that,” I say honestly. “And really, it’s fine. You’re right, anyway. It’s far too early for anyone to be calling me.”

Bradford takes a long sip of his coffee and sighs happily. “Okay, now that I’ve gotten my first caffeine hit, let’s talk plans.”

“Sure,” I say, draining half of my own cup in one gulp.

“If it won’t bore the hell out of you, there’s an art museum about half an hour away that I’d love to check out,” Bradford says.

“We can do that,” I nod.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“What, you don’t think I’m cultured enough to enjoy art?” I joke.

“Um, kind of,” he says with a shrug. “I remember quite a few museum field trips in boarding school where you, Gorlag, and Kroth would always get in trouble for yelling and wrestling in the halls. Didn’t one of you deface a painting once, too?”

“Yeah,” I say, blushing. “That one cost my dad a lot of money to smooth over. But does it help that I’m really embarrassed to remember now what a jackass I used to be?”

“It does,” Bradford smiles, and takes my hands in his.

“Ready to order?” Emily asks, materializing by our side with her pad and pen already out.

“Spinach omelet, whole-wheat toast, hash browns, please,” Bradford says. “I don’t know what your secret is, but you make the best hash browns in the entire state.”

“I’ll have the same,” I tell her as Gorlag comes back in.

“We’ll have that right up,” Emily says. “And I’d tell you the secret of my hash browns, but then I’d have to kill you,” she adds, grinning at Bradford.

Gorlag grins. “She won’t even tell me what she does to get them so good,” he says, sitting down next to me.

“I’ll figure it out one of these days,” Bradford vows.

Emily laughs. “You’d have to live in Green Haven for the rest of your life and eat here every day to even start to crack the secret recipe,” she says.

“There are worse ways to live,” Bradford says. Emily goes into the kitchen and Gorlag launches into a story that Amelia told him on the way to school, something involving squirrels and hats.

I try to listen, but my mind keeps drifting to my phone, which has resumed its relentless buzzing. I pick it up and hold it in my lap as I scroll through the new emails and texts that have come in.

The tone has become increasingly urgent. As I skim, I start to feel guilty at what everyone at my company is dealing with. It might have felt good at first to know just how poorly the company fared without me, but as I read more emails, I realize that I’m in serious danger of losing the company.

---