Chapter Six

“You’re the last one I’d have expected this from, Korbin.” Lowell strode into the Castle Speranza library and directed his ire at his fair-haired youngest brother. “But I suppose that’s why you’ve been getting away with it. I never knew you had such a sick sense of humor.”

“Huh?” Korbin looked up from a massive tome, blinking owlishly. “Humor? Me? Never.” He shook his head dismissively and looked back down at the printed pages before him. “Nope, no idea what you’re going on about,” he murmured.

“Sure you don’t.” Lowell paced around the heavy table with his arms crossed. “Look at you, all innocent and bookish, all immersed in your research.” He slammed the book shut with a noisy thump. “But you’ve been stalking about, ruining Dora’s laundry and digging up her plants, haven’t you? Putting on glamours of bats and armadillos, just for kicks? Trying to scare her away from me out of pathetic jealousy, hmm?” Lowell lowered his face to Korbin’s until their noses almost touched. “Back off, little brother, or I’ll make you regret the day you were born.”

Korbin rose to his feet, white-blond hair flying. “You’re the one who needs to back off, Lowell!” he retorted. “I’m sick of your threats and nonsense. Of course I haven’t been bothering Dora. It doesn’t seem like anything I’d do”—he scowled and braced his fists on his hips—“because I’d never even consider it.” He gestured towards the leather-bound books spread across the library table. “I’ve got far too many more important things on my plate than to worry about your love life. Give me a break.”

“What’s all this? Reading up on cheesecake, Lowell?” Brock entered the room, sat in one of the leather armchairs and propped up his feet. “I can’t get Dora’s dessert out of my mind, either, to tell you the truth.” He smacked his lips and patted his stomach with a chuckle.

“Aarrrgh, it’s you, isn’t it?” Lowell snarled. He moved behind Brock and yanked the chair away from the table. “Damn you and your foolishness!” Lowell, bellowing in fury, picked up the chair with Brock in it and lifted it off the floor. “I should throw you across the room!” Grunting with effort and rage, he shook the chair and growled. The chandelier overhead trembled.

“Hey, now!” Brock soothed, knuckles whitening around the arms of his chair. “I know we’re all immortal here, but that doesn’t mean that getting squashed wouldn’t sting a little.” Lowell bared his teeth. “And no, Lowell, I haven’t been doing anything foolish lately, at least around you, so you can relax.” Korbin, moving slowly, put his hands on the arms of Brock’s uplifted chair and, catching Lowell’s eye, eased it to the floor.

Lowell grunted and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Surely not Father,” he murmured in a daze. “Father would never debase himself in such a fashion…or would he?”

“What’s this?” Gavin Rossi boomed from the doorway. “What sort of debasement are you wondering if I’m capable of?”

“Ah,” Lowell began. “That is, um, you’d never… Uh…”

“Put on glamours and skulk about Lowell and his ladylove,” offered Korbin. “Mess about in a human’s laundry and shrubbery.”

“And generally be foolish, just to get under Lowell’s skin,” Brock added helpfully. “Was that pretty much it, Lowell?”

Gavin looked from Brock’s mirth-filled face to Korbin’s irritated one, then turned to his oldest son. Silently, he shook his head, then left the room.

“Was that a ‘No’, I take it?” Brock quipped.

Lowell growled and grabbed the back of Brock’s chair once more. In a swift motion, he tipped it backwards until the back rested on the floor and Brock’s surprised face stared up at the ceiling. “Birdbrain,” Lowell grumbled. “Why don’t you go play with the damn chickens?”

“Any of these ones wanting for refreshies?” Mephita stood, knobby hands akimbo and gangly knees stretching down from her homespun tunic. “Tea, cider?” She leaned in to the library and grinned. “And, oh yes, eglises cooked up devilish-style. Carmen instructed this old Mephita ’bout how Miss Dora makes them.” She chuckled. “That one’s a good cook, yes, and he knows it, true?” She leered at Lowell, displaying the herbal remnants of her last meal in the gaps between her teeth.

“Out of my way, gnome,” muttered Lowell. Mephita shrank away as he stalked from the room, chased by Brock’s and Korbin’s guffaws.

* * * *

Boom-boom-boom—and the sweet lilt of the oboe fluttered up over the percussion.

“Figure eights,” instructed Carmen. “No hurry, let’s just try to get them slow and perfect, ladies.” Dora checked out her classmates to her right and left. Beth, Deb, Colby and Bernice, attired in stretchy leggings, hip scarves and tank tops, wore matching expressions of deep concentration. Dora, however, felt nothing but blissful, easy relaxation as she rolled her hips through the motions.

“Really, Dora, you don’t have to make it look so easy,” Bernice complained. “Not all of us were born with hips that will just naturally swish around like this.” The slim, silver-tressed librarian scowled.

“Shhh, Bernice, Dora can’t help it if her hips do all the work for her,” said Carmen. “And you’re doing great! Just relax and enjoy and don’t worry about what anybody else is doing.”

Bernice grunted and turned her back to Dora, then resumed her hip rolls.

Colby flipped her platinum bob and looked thoughtful. “You know, Dora, I haven’t seen you look so, um, relaxed in quite a while.” Dora shrugged as warmth rose to her cheeks, but kept silent. “It’s almost as if there were some romance going on in your life.” Dora smiled and kept her eyes fixed forward.

“She got a haircut and deep conditioning treatment yesterday,” tattled Beth. “She hadn’t passed through the doors of Hippie Chic for at least six months, but she’d called a few days ago and said she needed me to get her in as soon as possible. She even got a bikini wax, you guys, and I saw her going in to the nail salon right after. Clearly she’s getting gussied up for somebody, right? So who’s the lucky man, Dora? Did one of your B&B guests get a little more than a free breakfast with his last stay?”

Dora cleared her throat. “I would never mix business and pleasure, Beth. That is totally unprofessional.”

“Yeah, and it might screw up her Trip Advisor ratings,” Bernice noted.

Deb giggled. “Or send them soaring through the roof…”

“Ladies!” scolded Carmen. “If Dora wants to keep her new romance a secret from us, even though we are her best friends and would never tell anyone, that’s her choice. Let’s move on to some vertical hip circles and head slides. Concentrate on precision.”

For a few minutes, conversation ceased in the gazebo behind Prescott Manor as the six women shimmied, rolled and stepped in the balmy spring air. A dewy layer of sweat covered each woman’s stomach and back as she danced, and the plaintively beautiful Middle Eastern music wended through the gardens. Dora was grateful for the halt to the barrage of questions, but it turned out to be only a temporary respite.

“Out with it, Dora!” Bernice ordered. “Small town like this, we gotta get our kicks where we can, and there’s nothing more thrilling than dating somebody new.”

“Well…” Dora admitted. “I have been on a few dates with someone special.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow and caught Dora’s eye. “Someone on the manly side?”

“Oh, yes, he’s definitely manly,” Dora giggled. “In more ways than one.”

“Hot damn! Did you take any pictures?” asked Bernice. “Oooh, or video? Got it on YouTube yet?”

“Sorry, Bernice, no images to share. He’s…kind of old-fashioned and a little silly at times, but he seems quite fond of me.” She slid her head from side to side as she spoke. “A bit self-conscious, but it’s actually endearing in a funny way.”

“Go on,” Deb urged. Her carrot-red curls glowed in the afternoon sun. “As an old married woman, I need to be reminded of how fun dating is. Marcus thinks that the same old incense and massage oil will do the trick every time.”

“What’re you complaining about? I’d love to have a man light some incense and rub on me. Send that husband of yours right over!” Bernice cackled.

“Well, it’s not all perfect,” conceded Dora. “He just gets so flustered and upset that he sort of ruins it every now and then, but then he comes back and he’s just so cute and charming…” She bit her lower lip, remembering, as the music dwindled to a close. “Sometimes bumbling and tripping over his words when he talks, but then he stops talking and, well, there’s nothing awkward about his body, girls.”

“Mm-hm,” Carmen sighed. “Anybody thirsty besides me? I’ve got some peach iced tea. Be right back.”

Bernice turned to Dora. “What’s this bumbling manly man getting upset about?” she asked. “Does he lose his temper?”

“Oh, no, never at me. He just gets mad when, like, something goes wrong, and he’ll blush and fuss and go stomping off.”

“What in the world’s been going wrong?” wondered Colby. “Creepy guests at the inn?”

“No, the guests at Bohemian Rhapsody are fine—the human sort that is. It’s the animals that are causing trouble. You know, when one of those armadillos that are on the prowl digs into my garden, or a rat knocks over the bin of fertilizer, or a bat gets into the laundry.” She chuckled. “I thought his head was going to explode the other day when we got home from a walk and a buzzard had knocked over some of my potted plants, and then there was that turtle…”

“Prowling buzzards and bats in broad daylight?” asked Deb. “Sorry for asking, Dora, but were you the only one to see these creatures?” She lifted her pinched index finger and thumb to her pursed lips, inhaled deeply and crossed her eyes.

Dora punched Deb lightly on the bicep. “Nothing like that, you old hippie, but yes, I’m the only one who’s seen them, and that seems to make him even madder. I don’t know what he thinks he would do with a rat or a buzzard if he caught it, but it kills him that they’re getting away. Every time something’s gotten messed with, he gets bent out of shape that he hasn’t laid eyes on the perpetrator and then goes off in a huff.”

“What in the hell is going on at your place? Armadillos, bats, turtles, rats… Are you starting a damn zoo over there? Bed, breakfast and petting farm?” Bernice chortled. “Don’t think that many kiddos are gonna be interested in petting buzzards, though, Dora, I hate to break it to you.”

“The animals have been going a bit nuts around my place,” Dora sighed, “but what can I do? I’m just chalking it up to spring fever. I guess I’ve been too distracted with this”—she smiled—“little romance of mine that I haven’t had time to care about the critters. A mess or two isn’t going to spoil my fun.”

The side door swung shut and Carmen strode towards the gathering with a tray full of tumblers and a pitcher of tea.

“Well?” Bernice asked. She distributed glasses of amber tea as Carmen filled them.

“Huh?” asked Dora.

“His name,” Colby prodded.

“Who is it?” Deb asked insistently.

“Oh, his name.” Dora twitched her hips, raised her arms to shoulder-height and rolled her ribs. “Lowell Rossi,” she breathed. “His name is Lowell.”

Dora caught a glimpse of the mottled brown skin of a hognose snake as it parted the iris leaves and slid out of view between the roses.