“I’m gonna need a nap after all this.” He added another scoop to his brimming plate, then waggled his eyebrows. “Care to join me for naptime?”
“Can’t. I’ve got three interviews this afternoon. News is picking up, for once.”
“I’m glad.” He took his seat across from her and unwrapped his chopsticks. “So, things are looking up for theBeacon?”
She wrinkled her nose. “A little. Not enough.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Crunchy batter shattered down his shirt as he bit into a succulent fried prawn.
She leaned an elbow onto the table and fluttered her eyelashes. “The bigger and sooner your grand re-opening, the better.” She chomped into a spring roll and moaned, and his dick sprang to attention.
“I’ll do my best, beauty.” Which meant he’d better make up his mind about branding and merchandise damn quick. The dry wall guys were nearly done patching the ceiling, and the electrician would finish on Monday, putting an end to the flickering lights.
Unless Gus had other plans. One more big repair bill would blow his budget to smithereens.
As they pushed their empty plates away and patted their overstuffed bellies, the little girl appeared again, followed by an elegant grandmother in an embroidered scarlet jacket. With a shy smile, she set a plate on their table and nodded encouragingly at its contents—two green blobs with teardrop-shaped eyes.
“Ma Ma made a special dessert for you,” the little one told them. “It’s aliens!”
“Why, that’s so sweet of you, Mrs. Wong,” Hannah cooed.
The girl bounced on her toes. “They’re delicious. I already ated mine.”
Her grandmother looked on expectantly.
Hannah lifted one and nudged his foot under the table.
“Right, let’s see what aliens taste like.”
Turns out this variety of E.T. was a fluffy steamed bun filled with sweet red bean paste—tasty indeed. He wiped his lips. “Really tasty. Thank you so much, Mrs. Wong.”
The old woman gave a little bow. “You take good care of the store, okay?”
The young man joined them. “Ma loves shopping for her grandkids at Souvenir Planet.”
“Seventeen,” Mrs. Wong added, pantomiming sizes from tiny to tall.
The little girl thrust out her arm to display a slap bracelet. “Ma ma bought me this. It glows in the dark! It’s my favorite.” She removed it from her tiny wrist and slapped it around Xander’s. Taking his cue, he admired it, then replaced it around her arm.
Hannah made a funny squawk and dabbed her eyes with her napkin.
Never wanted kids, huh?
The thought of disappointing the little cutie pinched his conscience. It wouldn’t hurt to expand his limited selection of alien schlock just a bit. He owed that much to Hannah and the town that seemed intent on adopting him.
After a brief squabble over the check, which he insisted on covering, he helped Hannah into her jacket—not that she needed his help, but he enjoyed the smile these little courtly gestures brought to her lips. As they strolled arm in arm back toward Main Street, he asked, “So, was today part of your campaign to keep Souvenir Planet locked in a time loop?”
“Listen to you, Mr. Sci-fi.” She bumped him with her hip. “I just want you to meet everyone and see how much they support you.”
A noisy sigh slipped out before he could stop it. And of course Hannah noticed—the woman noticed everything. She spun him around to face her. “What’s wrong?”
“Bills, mostly. Looks like I’m going to have to take out a bigger loan than I’d anticipated.”
“For repairs?”
He nodded. “And inventory. Gus was operating on a paper-thin margin.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Then let us help.”
