Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(69)

Her grandmother stepped into her line of sight. “Do you feel up to eating, or should we go home?”

The last thing she wanted to do was go stare at the walls of her bedroom. She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “Breakfast sounds good.” Wanting to prove she was okay, she added, “And we can shop for desserts afterward.”

“So we’re going to the teahouse?” Lillith’s face lit up with excitement. “I’ve been craving sweets, and they have the best cherry pie.”

Jaxon picked up the shopping bags he’d been carrying. “Why don’t I take our bags home, and you can stay and have a nice visit.”

“But you love the cherry pie at Suzette’s.” Lillith sounded like she might cry. Was she acting or was she experiencing hormonal mood swings?

The way Jaxon sighed and gave a resigned nod hinted at one answer over the other.

Lillith and her grandmother took the lead. Bryn and Jaxon walked behind them.

“So your mom is a little mood-swingy right now?”

Jaxon snorted. “I’m not sure you should comment on someone else’s mental stability.”

Bryn came to a dead halt. “Have you reverted back to the asshat you used to be? Because a little notice would’ve been nice.”

He rounded on her. “I am not the problem here. You, my mother, and that god-awful flower-infested tearoom are the problem.”

“You’re this upset about a tearoom? Now who’s emotionally unstable?”

“My mother dragged me there every Sunday afternoon from the time I was five until I was ten. Believe me, the pie doesn’t make up for the agonizing conversations I was forced to endure about china patterns and tablecloths.”

She almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite. “Does my grandmother strike you as the type to chat about china patterns?”

“They all talk about china patterns. Like it’s mandatory.”

“I promise I won’t engage in any dish-related conversations.” She pointed toward her grandmother. “We better catch up.”

“I’m not going.” Jaxon took a step backward. “Tell my mother I left to check on a gift.”

Before she could argue the point, he took off like a man fleeing death. Fierce Jaxon traumatized by a girlie tearoom seemed absurd. Whatever. She hurried to catch up to her grandmother. They were waiting outside the tearoom.

“Where’s Jaxon?” Lillith asked.

Please don’t let her cry. “He said he needed to check on a Christmas present.”

“Oh, well I guess it’s just the three of us.” Lillith entered Suzette’s.

The dining room at Suzette’s looked like a florist’s shop had exploded. Floral carpet, floral wallpaper, floral tablecloths, and dear God, there were even floral dishes.

Yet the place was packed. Women of all Clans sat in small groups. There were a few dispirited young men who seemed to have been dragged there by their mothers. The males all had the same get-me-the-hell-out-of-here look on their faces.

Bryn blinked and then checked her grandmother’s expression.

“Something you wanted to say?” Her grandmother looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary.

How to be diplomatic about this? “This doesn’t look like a place you would enjoy. The decor is…busy.”

The hostess met them, grinning like she was in on the joke. “It must be your granddaughter’s first time with us.”

“Yes,” her grandmother said. “She isn’t known for her subtle ways. I’m waiting for her to make a comment.”

Bryn crossed her arms over her chest. “If they have pancakes, I can deal with the froufrou decorations.”

“We’ll do froufrou next time,” her grandmother said.

“This way.” The hostess led the three of them to a side door and down a hallway that led to a room that was the complete opposite of the floral nightmare up front. The walls were a soothing pale blue, the tablecloths were cream-colored, and the floor was polished hardwood. Not a froufrou item in sight.

“Is this more to your taste?” her grandmother asked after the hostess seated them.

Bryn stared around the room. Several women nodded in their direction. Her grandmother and Lillith nodded back.

A waitress brought them menus. Once Bryn saw the words “blueberry pancakes,” she was good to go. After they placed their order, she settled back in her seat. “What’s the deal with the fake front room?”

“Sometimes you want a place to get away from the men in your life,” her grandmother said, “a place they fear to tread.”

“The flowery room is a front for the real restaurant?”

“Exactly. For generations, women have dragged their sons and grandsons into Suzette’s. Once they’re grown men, they never come looking for us here again. As you can see from Jaxon’s reaction, it works.”

“That is sneaky and brilliant.” Bryn had a new respect for her fellow dragons’ feminine ingenuity. “Who thought of this?”

“A couple of Green dragons came together with the idea and approached the Blue women’s league asking them to finance the operation.” Lillith picked up her menu and turned the pages.

“And the men have never suspected anything?”

“They all want out the front door so badly, they never investigate anything else,” her grandmother said. “All the women take turns eating in the floral farce once a month. That way the room is always full.”