I blew out a breath as I picked up my plate. “Has Niamh heard anything from Agnes yet? She shooed me off her porch earlier when I asked, telling me I was getting on her nerves.”
“They’re all worried about you. They don’t like to see you this stressed. Obviously they’re all handling their worry in different ways…” He popped a nut into his mouth. “Agnes and team are still working on it. She says they have some good ideas, but nowhere near enough power to re-create it.”
“Sounds about right.” I loaded my plate before sitting back against the pillows. “Edgar is muttering to himself all the time now, but I don’t think he’s any closer.”
“Can he communicate with the house like you can?”
“No, but I think she can understand what people need. And he did say she gave him another book, but it clearly isn’t enough.”
Austin leaned toward me, his elbow on a pillow, his shoulder bumping my arm. “It’s going to work out. Even if Ivy House can’t help, I have shifters willing to step up and fight. We have the gargoyles. We have the house crew. We aren’t defenseless. If we can’t tear down the spell, we’ll still be able to put up a good fight. You can unleash the dolls.”
“I’d have to see the enemy to direct them, though. If they are all hiding in the trees or flitting in neighbor’s yards, that won’t be easy. Then again, if we all pull back to the house, I can…maybe…direct them from the air. Or the roof or something.”
I bit my lip and let silence fall between us, mulling it over.
He looked up at me, something I couldn’t identify sparkling in his eyes. He nodded and turned his gaze back over the beautiful meadow below. “There. You see? When the worst comes knocking, you stand up and answer.”
I sipped the wine, the flavors exploding on my tongue and easily making their way down my throat, no surprise squeezing from tannins. “Hmm, this is good.”
“Listen, I wanted to ask you.” He took a sip of his wine. “You know a lot about tasting rooms and wine and all that. I’m just a run-down bar owner.”
“Good Lord. Don’t sell yourself short or anything.”
“Would you help me get this all set up? Would you help with the tasting room and everything?”
“Of course. I love giving my opinion. Usually that’s when it isn’t wanted, but I’ll make an exception for you.”
“How about…” He swallowed the last of his wine—his glass a lot fuller than mine, since he could handle a lot more alcohol—and grabbed the next bottle.
“Okay. Getting serious.” I finished mine before biting into a strawberry.
With the next wine poured, he sat up, one hand resting on his knee and the other holding the glass. “Would you want to become business partners? I can handle a lot of the operations aspect, and you could focus more on customer interfacing. We could both play to our strengths.” He put up his hand. “It’s just a thought. No pressure. I just thought…” He shrugged again. “I don’t know what I thought. I just…I want you in on it. If you’re interested.”
“Did you take a look into your rich-kid fund and realize the amount you thought was a lot back in the day isn’t so much anymore?” I smiled to hide my nervousness, then took a sip. These new flavors demanded my attention, light and spicy with a hint of smoke. “Hmm, this one is good. Better than the other.”
“I have plenty in my rich-kid fund. I’ll be expanding the bar to new locations and buying up a few other properties and businesses. This is…” He sucked down the liquid in one gulp. “It’s just an idea. You wouldn’t have to put up any money. You could just—”
“She will put up the money, and she will be signed on as a fifty-percent owner.” Mr. Tom’s voice rained down on us.
I spun where I sat, the small wall of rock behind us leading to trees slanting up higher into the mountain. No shape stood behind those. Ripping away the block on our magical connection, I dragged my gaze upward to the top of a pine, finding a naked figure clinging to the branches halfway up.
“Good Lord,” I whispered, turning back around.
“Also, your back is dirty, Austin Steele. I would’ve mentioned it earlier, but I was giving you your privacy.”
“Hiding in a tree listening to our every word is not giving us privacy, Mr. Tom,” I called out.
“Of course, miss. Semantics, as they say.”
I opened my mouth and shook my head, really at a loss for words. That happened so often with Mr. Tom.
“Give us some space, Mr. Tom,” I said in a more forceful tone.
“Yes, miss. I will climb a different tree a little farther away.”
“Why does he have to climb a tree at all?” I mumbled. Even as I said it, I heard a branch crack behind me. Needles rained down, and Mr. Tom shouted, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” as if he were trying to control a disobedient horse.