Page 38 of Bargain with Fate
Stella raised a delicate set of eyebrows. “I appreciate your perspective, Mr. Protector, but I assure you I’m quite content on Evermore. Life became increasingly stressful with the rise of technology. I was constantly trying to avoid social media and passport renewals. Living on an island devoted to others in the same predicament is a gift. I’m not sure I’d go back even if I could.”
Vale grunted his acknowledgment. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. There have been a few cases similar to yours in Savannah, which is why I was interested in learning more from you.”
“In that case, you should also talk to Franco before you leave.”
“Franco?” I echoed. “I don’t have a report from him.”
“I’m not sure of the details, but I think he may have sold an item to the same buyer.”
Ugh, not Franco.
“What’s wrong with Franco?” Vale asked.
“Was my groan audible?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“Franco spends most of his time in Buff Base,” I explained.
“The clothing-optional section of the Neighborhood,” Stella added.
Vale looked at me askance. “Nude beach?”
“Nude everything.” And I did mean everything. “Tennis. Pickleball. Golf. Activities that involve a lot of movement.”
“Pickleball is the right word for it. You’ll see,” Stella said with a knowing wink.
I didn’t want to see. I wanted to walk through blindfolded and shouting for Franco.
“I had no idea the Neighborhood was so progressive,” Vale remarked.
“The shifters are the frequent fliers,” Stella said.
“Makes sense,” Vale said. “Most shifters I know find clothing constrictive.”
“Most shifters you know are also in peak condition,” Stella replied. “Talk to me again after you’ve finished your visit. Bet you haven’t seen this many shriveled berries since that time your vineyard suffered through a drought.”
Vale appeared taken aback. “You know about that?”
Stella flashed an endearing smile that showed off her shiny fangs. “Told you I know who you are. I’m a socialite, or I was. It’s my job to keep up with the movers and shakers in our corner of society.” She pivoted to face me. “He owns a winery outside Savannah. Gorgeous place. You should pay a visit if you get the chance. The wine is the cherry on top of a sublime sundae.”
“I’m glad you appreciated it,” Vale said, “although I’m curious how you know about my involvement. My ownership isn’t public record.”
“I believe it was Genevieve Bateman who shared that juicy morsel with me.”
“The name isn’t familiar,” Vale said.
“She’s passed now, but you would remember her if you’d met. She talked with her teeth, like a member of the landed gentry.”
“Was she English?” I asked.
“No, just arrogant. She was an incredible source of gossip for a human, however. And nobody made a blood and sand cocktail like dear Genevieve.”
“I’m as fond of gossip as I am of parties,” Vale said.
She set Lord Ruffington on the chair beside her. “Dearest Protector. The real function of gossip isn’t to pass judgment on others. It’s a way women have shared information for generations when it wasn’t safe to speak freely, especially nonhumans. We had to be even more circumspect, which is why I adore Evermore. No humans means we can live more authentically.”
And Stella lived more authentically than almost anyone I’d ever met.
