Page 86 of Welcome to Fae Cafe
29
Kate Kole and the First Week of Business
The café became a warm hug in the middle of the snowstorms, bringing Ontarians in to gather, eat, talk, laugh, and frankly, ogle. Kate listened to their chatter as she ran her fingers along the bookshelf beside the counter. She imagined stories there that would comfort strangers passing through, bring them back for more captivating chapters, and spark conversations among the regulars. She imagined stories about strong fae assassins, burgundy-haired humans, and fairy princes. She imagined making knit book sleeves for the books and mug cozies to keep customers’ coffees warm while they read. But there was one problem with that.
“You cannotgo to knitting club, Human. I forbid it.”
The words Cress said over and over for the rest of the week.
It was like he thought he washerPrince and had the right to make absurd royal fae decrees around the café. Kate either pretended she didn’t hear when he gave her instructions, or blatantly disobeyed just to see his reaction. Every second of his tightening skin, thinning lips, and narrowing turquoise eyes was worth it.
It seemed the fae weren’t leaving, even after Kate gave them permission to. They never explained why, they just kept working, kept cleaning, kept studying the recipe books and baking odd little pastries they called things like, “Folk Bites” and “Mischief Bombs.”
Kate slept on the couch at Lily’s place since her apartment had been invaded by assassins. But even though things were beyond busy with the café and Lily’s police shifts, it was nice to spend the late nights together sipping steaming nighttime tea and looking out at the stars.
Kate and Lily arrived at the café together in the mornings. The only one who wouldn’t smile was Dranian, but even so, the assassin had the entire menu memorized and could mix a drink faster than any human. Shayne invited customers in with warm, dazzling fae smiles that probably left the ladies weak at the knees and the men slightly terrified. Mor kept to himself as he tidied up tables and swept the floors, stifling closed-mouthed smiles whenever Cress tired out the fastest and took afternoon “royal naps” on one of the chairs by the fireplace. Shayne usually snuck over to join him, creating a calendar-worthy picture by a toasty, crackling fire.
At ten p.m. each night, the fae locked the door, poured fresh lattes, and relit the fireplace. Everyone sat around the bistro tables to talk about whatever obscure things popped into the fae’s heads. Lily asked peculiar questions, and the fae answered what they could, though, sometimes it seemed like their tongues were stuck when she got snoopy about certain parts of where they came from.
Kate constantly felt the warm touches of Cress’s stare on her back. Throughout the days, he asked Kate small, quiet questions like, “What is the purpose of dish soap when water cleans the human goblets just fine?” and “Why do you read such boring literature?” and “Which of my assassins is your least favourite? I want to see if we picked the same one.”
The snow roared in like a beast, coming all at once and covering Toronto with a blanket of white. University classes were cancelled for most of the week, but somehow coffee drinkers kept showing up. Parking along the street got overcrowded, and Lily was forced to go apologize to the neighbouring stores about it.
On Tuesday evening, Kate sat down by the crackling fireplace with her laptop and a steaming Ca-FAE Mocha. She rubbed her tired eyes as Cress took the seat across from her.
“What are you doing?” He studied her laptop suspiciously.
“Taxes,” Kate said.
Cress tugged the computer over to himself and made a face as he looked it over. “You must pay all of this coin?”
Kate nodded and laid her head down on the table. “I can’t stare at that screen anymore.”
“Wait a faeborn minute.” Cress’s fist dropped to the tabletop, and Kate jumped. “You must pay taxes on the coin you earn, and then you must pay taxes again when youspendthe coin you earn, and then you must pay taxes on—”
“It doesn’t make sense. Don’t try to understand it,” Kate advised, sitting back.
“This is preposterous.”
“Yes.” Kate dragged her latte over and took a sip.
Cress thought for a moment, his jaw sliding back and forth. He jabbed a few buttons on the keyboard and Kate leaned to try and see what he was doing to her carefully laid out spreadsheet.
“Here.” Cress turned the computer back around with a new screen up.
“What is this?” Kate looked over the document. “Wait… is this my novel?!” She grabbed the computer and dragged it closer. “What did you do?”
“I fixed it.” Cress pulled his shoulder into a shrug. “Your writing is ghastly.”
“My writing is awesome!” Kate objected.
“Says who?”
“Well… Some people.”
A wide, doubtful smile spread across Cress’s face. “Some of the words you use don’t mean what you think they mean. Read what I wrote.” He tapped the computer screen.
Kate’s jaw jutted out as she scanned over her story. Her eyes caught on certain words. Eloquent words. Mystifying words. Her face relaxed when she got to the next paragraph. She read until the end of the first chapter before she looked back up at the fae Prince.
