Page 7 of Hotshot Mogul

“I’m Anneliese.” I held the dustpan until all the glass was swept up and dumped into the bin. “Would you sign my petition to save the trees?

Her gaze flipped to Bruce. What was up with that?

“Tell you what, kiddo. I need my reading eyedrops to read it right. They’re in the back. Come with me.”

A look of panic flashed across Bruce’s handsome face. I had to ignore his distress for now. I was there to do a job. I grabbed my bag and followed her through a cooking area to a small room with a desk.

“I’m Callie,” she said, putting liquid into her eyes with a dropper.

I set the petition on the desk. “This is your place.”

She read over the petition. “It is.”

“Paper? I didn’t know you could still do it that way. The oak is over four hundred years old? Did you hire an arborist to verify that?” Grenmann was right about that, surely.

Humans would need another human to say that it was true. “No.”

“No bother,” she said, signing it. “My next-door neighbor, Rufus, is a retired arborist. He can help you out. You need it by Monday night. I’ll alert him right now. Where are you staying, in case he needs help finding it?”

Grenmann said to stick to the truth as close as I could. “I’m camping, near the glade and the trees.”

Callie frowned. “People camp there, but it’s really not allowed. And they’re calling for rain. And cell service is sketchy. Are you strapped for cash?”

Cash meant money. I had some. I wasn’t sure how much the arborist would demand. Isolde procured and showed me how to use a cell phone as the humans did. I hadn’t had a need to use it, yet. Best to stick to the truth. “I may not have enough cash for everything.”

“So, that’s the second reason Bruce is buying you dinner when you’re trying to save the trees in his…”

I interrupted her. “He’s helping me.” But is he?

“How are you getting around town?”

“I walk.”

Her smile was kind. “Where are you from?”

I had practiced my lie. I told her I grew up on an island in the sea. We didn’t speak English, but an island language spoken by only a few. I followed it with the truth. “I’m only here to save the trees. I have five days.”

“Oh, a visa thing.”

I smiled and nodded.

“Tell you what: I have a room upstairs over the garage. My neighbor’s nephew just moved out. And there’s a scooter he used to help me with deliveries. The insurance is paid through the end of the month. It doesn’t go fast, and no fun in the rain, but if that works for you? Rufus is right next door.”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Finish your um, date. Then come back here when you’re done. You’ll be needing your stuff at the campsite. I can drive you up there.”

Clothes, I would need different things to wear. Isolde said modern humans changed their clothes often. “Yes, I will be needing my things. Thanks again.”

I returned to Bruce and wondered what “date” meant. My pancakes, syrup, and strawberries and a glass with a long stem filled with a white liquid were waiting. I tried to remember how to do this. I watched him take food and I remembered. The bites of pancakes were fluffy and light and went all melty in my mouth drenched in the maple nectar. The strawberries were sweet and tender. And the wine, not Bordeaux, slid down my throat. When my food was done, I set down the metal pronged thing. “Is this a date?”

Bruce grinned. “If you have to ask… But, yes. Our first one. Are you down with that?”

“Callie said she would wait for me until my date with you is finished. I’m going to stay with her tonight. I wanted to be sure what she meant.”

“Stay with her?” He filled my glass. I nodded and reached for bread. I remembered how to do this. I broke off a small piece, dipped it in the syrup, then lifted it to my lips. It was soft and crunchy and perfectly chewy.

“There’s butter, too.” Hmmm. He opened a tiny packet filled with a bit of soft yellow stuff, then took some bread, ripped off a piece, and used his knife to apply it. I tried it. It was so good. I opened another pack, then another. I sipped the wine in between until it was gone.

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