The Revelation of Light and Dark (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 1)

Fallon frowns. “Really? That’s… odd.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Why is that odd?”

Expression incredulous, Fallon tucks her chin in. “Seriously? Come on, Finley. It’s Carrick Byrne. He runs an empire of businesses worth billions. He has dozens of high-level people under him, and even more under them, any one of which would still be overqualified to help a coffee shop owner work on a human resource manual.”

Something about her tone puts me on the defensive. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying this is beneath a man like him,” she replies, her tone turning a bit gentle as if she’s letting me in on some truth that might hurt my feelings.

“You’re saying I’m beneath him?” I ask, because yeah… that hurts my feelings.

“No,” she exclaims with a shake of her head. “You’re beneath no one, Finley. I’m just saying it’s not something a man of his caliber would normally handle. I can only figure he must have a personal interest in you.”

Her expression changes, her eyebrows rising as if she’s getting ready to let me in on a huge secret. She smiles slyly. “Come on… be honest with me. Do you have something going on with him?”

I jerk backward, her question so ludicrous it feels like a punch. I start to sputter. “What? Of course not… that’s… I mean, so ridiculous. Why would you even say that?”

“Because…” she intones in a low voice. “Working on a human resources manual isn’t something a silent partner would do. Certainly not someone like Carrick Byrne.”

My gaze slides past Fallon, blankly moving over customers. It lands on the counter where people are putting in their orders before gradually returning to my sister. I lift my chin because I need to nip her silly thoughts in the bud. “No. There’s nothing between us beyond business. And if you must know, he’s kind of annoying and supercilious. He’s not somebody I’d ever be interested in beyond his help with One Bean anyway.”

Fallon cocks an eyebrow.

I stare resolutely back.

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Oh, come on, Finley. It’s Carrick Byrne. He’s handsome, rich, and who cares if he’s annoying or supercilious? He’s the best catch in Seattle.”

It’s my turn to laugh now. I let it go, having a hard time getting it back under control. “Fallon… you know I don’t care about stuff like that. I know you do, but I don’t.”

“But Finley… it’s—”

“If you say, ‘it’s Carrick Byrne’ one more time, I’ll smack you,” I growl.

Her eyes twinkle as her lips twitch, but she ultimately holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine. If you say so. But I think there’s something there. Maybe not on your part, but definitely on his.”

“Enough,” I growl. “Think of something else to talk about.”

Fallon studies me to see if there’s perhaps any inroad she can make to turn this into a love match with further discussion, but I scowl fiercely to dissuade her.

“Fine,” she sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Have you talked to Rich lately?”

Harmless enough subject. I fill her in on what Rich has been up to lately, which includes taking an active hand in helping his son with his new pot business. Not that his son needs help, but I think Rich is the type who can only make so much furniture as a hobby before he gets bored out of his mind.

I explain how he booked an Alaskan cruise, and my hope he’d meet someone on it. He’s been so lonely since his wife died, and now that he’s given up the social interaction he received at One Bean, I’m worried he might be too isolated once his son is all set up in his new business.

As I’m talking about Rich, a subject I’d remind her she brought up, I notice her attention keeps being pulled away.

Not by anything in particular. Her gaze might fall to her cup where she stares at it while making little hums of affirmation that she’s listening or at the people seated at the table beside us, but she’s not seeing them.

She’s distracted now, whereas before she was engaged in our conversation. I have to wonder if there’s something else she wants to discuss, but she doesn’t know how to bring it up. She lifts a hand, then rubs her temple.

“So, how have you been doing?” I ask, and she startles.

“What?” she asks, her expression guilty as she’s just been fully busted with her inattention to me. “I’m sorry… I must have zoned out. What did you ask?”

“I asked how you’ve been doing?” I repeat.

Fallon rubs at her temple again, then reaches into her purse hanging on the back of her chair. She pulls out a small bottle of Excedrin, then shakes two out. I wait as she washes them down with a sip of coffee. “Sorry,” she explains with a small smile. “I’ve been having headaches lately. Damn stress.”