Page 2 of Must Love Lavender and Little Lies
He smirked and rubbed his chin. Not for the first time, I realized how good-looking my best friend really was. With his long, black hair, massive frame, square jaw, and devilish smirk, he could have any woman he wanted. And that fiveo’clock shadow gave him a devil-may-care appearance that was extremely enticing…to someone else, of course. Granik was like family to me.
Granik’s stomach growled. “Hungry. I’ve been dreaming of The Pig and Piper’s mixed grill plate all day.”
“And of my good company, of course.”
“That goes without saying.
“Mixed grill… That’s all meat, you know.”
“Well, I am an orc. And in my defense, I also get that carrot and yogurt salad on the side.”
“Which you always give me.”
“But you like it.”
“And you don’t. You order it for show.”
“Do not.”
I gave him a knowing look.
“It comeswiththe mixed grill plate.”
I laughed.
“Suppose they have their larkflower shandy on tap, yet?”
“I have no doubt,” I said, giving him a warm smile. “Let me go grab my sweater, and we can go.”
Granik nodded. “I need to greet Pip anyway.”
We made our way back inside.
“Well, you wee hump of leaves, how are you today?” Granik asked as Pip rose to meet him, bounding to Granik to give him a lick.
I paused a moment, watching him with Pip. He was always so good with animals, so kind. One day, he would make a very good father. Realizing I was lingering, I shook myself from my thoughts, then went to grab my things.
“All right. Ready,” I said, rejoining him.
After giving Pip a treat, we headed off.
Despite his smiles earlier, my friend was unusually quiet. Granik was always quick to point out this or that in town or share gossip, but as we walked, I could tell his mind was busy.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Granik sighed heavily. “I love the Greening, but…”
He didn’t need to say more. Granik and I were growers. We loved spring, but this year…this year was different.
This year was Granik’s marrying year.
In orcish tradition, a man must choose his partner by the spring equinox of his thirtieth year, or his family would choose for him. All year, I’d watched as Granik avoided the problem of his marrying year, but time was closing in on him. The notion that someone as wonderful as my best friend would be wedded to someone else, someone he didn’t know, made my heart feel heavy. I had hoped he’d find someone in Moonshine Hollow, but not even someone as pretty as red-haired Marley from the sunflower farm adjoining Granik’s had won his heart.
“Have you heard from your family?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe they won’t insist on the tradition. After all, you’re here, and they’re in Mossy Bog.”
