Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(6)

“Why two?” Justine asked.

Priscilla shrugged. “I don’t usually ask Jason why he wants something. It makes him ornery, and he never explains anyway.”

“Good to know.” Justine returned her attention to the list. “I think I’ve got everything. Except for the flower arrangement. What kind of white flowers? Daisies? Lilies?”

“That’s up to you. Nothing too strong-smelling, though.”

“I have one more question. You know how each room at the inn pays homage to a different artist? Well, there are two second-floor west-facing rooms. One is the Roy Lichtenstein, and the other is the Gustav Klimt. Which one do you think Mr. Black would prefer?”

Tucking a coppery sweep of hair neatly behind her ear, Priscilla considered the question. “To me they both sound like something you’d take antibiotics for,” she said. “Could you tell me about ’em? I don’t know art from apple butter.”

Justine liked her frankness. “Roy Lichtenstein was an American pop artist. His most famous paintings looked like comic strips, with lettering and thought balloons. His work is more about irony and technique than emotion. Klimt, on the other hand, is all about sensuality. He was an Austrian painter in the 1800s, and his style was what they call Art Nouveau, with lines and curves inspired by Japanese woodblock prints. His best-known painting is The Kiss—there’s a print of it in the room. So … which one would suit Mr. Black? Lichtenstein or Klimt?”

Priscilla frowned.

Justine waited patiently.

“Klimt,” the woman finally said, her eyes narrowing. “But don’t read nothin’ into it.”

“I signed the nondisclosure contract,” Justine reminded her. “But even if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t need to worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I imagine so.” After a deliberate pause, Priscilla shot her a direct glance and asked, “What’s a sylph, anyways?”

So she had heard the incantation. Justine answered casually, “An elemental spirit that represents air. There’s another one for earth, one for water, and so on.”

“Are you one of those tree-hugger types?”

Justine smiled. “I’ve never technically hugged a tree, but I’ve discovered they make great listeners. What faith are you?”

“I was brought up in the Angels on Fire Ministry.”

“I’m not familiar with that one.”

“They preach sexual abstinence and the apocalypse. And our pastor was convinced that Satan put dinosaur fossils in the ground to fool people.” Not without pride, Priscilla added, “I was exorcised twice before I was fifteen.”

“Really? What for?”

“I was caught listening to rock music.”

“Both times?”

“First one didn’t take.” Priscilla paused as a ringtone sounded from the depths of her bag. “’Scuse me.” She pulled out her phone and glanced down at the tiny screen. “I’ve got some e-mails and texts to take care of.”

“Stay in the office for now, if you’d like. I’ll get one of the rooms ready for you.”

“Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to collect all the room keys once they’re ready.”

“Okay. Usually I show the guests to their rooms when they arrive.”

“Jason prefers me to take care of that. He’s not much on chin-wagging.”

“No problem. I’ll stay out of the way when they get here.”

“Thank you.” Priscilla’s head bent over the phone as she began texting. “What room will you put me in?” she asked without looking up.

“Degas,” Justine said. “A French Impressionist who painted ballet dancers. It’s not the biggest room we have, but it’s the prettiest. Lots of white lace and pink roses, and a crystal chandelier.”

Priscilla didn’t pause in her texting. “What makes you think I’d like a girly type room?”

“Because I saw the background picture on your tablet.” Justine lifted her brows in teasing arcs. “A row of kittens sitting on a piano? Really?”

As the young woman’s discomfited gaze met hers, Justine laughed quietly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Three

Later in the afternoon, Justine sat in the kitchen and drank mint tea, while Zoë took inventory of the refrigerator and pantry.

“Do you have everything you need for tomorrow morning?” Justine asked. “I finished cleaning the rooms, so I’m free to run errands.”

“We’re all stocked up.” Zoë brought a cardboard carton to her. “Take a look at these—the farm down the road added a couple of Araucana hens to the flock.”

Three pale turquoise eggs were nestled among the cream and brown ones.

“Those are fantastic,” Justine exclaimed. “Zoë, we have to start keeping chickens.”

“No we don’t.”

“Think of the free eggs.”

“Think of the smell and the noise. We’d have to build a coop. The expense of keeping chickens would cancel out any money we’d save on eggs.”

“One chicken. It would be like a pet.”

“It would be lonely.”