Mimi’s Cafe was one of the nicer restaurants in the Avenue’s area. It was loudly crowded for lunch with the red booths bursting and several dark tables moved together. The warm lighting and cream walls added extra cheer and comfort, allowing the crowds to be better tolerated on an otherwise wet, dreary day.
Nellie had donned a pleated skirt over some gray leggings. She wore an oversized checked sweater, and had half of her long, auburn waves tied up with a golden bow. She chewed her lip, twisting her hands nervously in the bottom of her sweater. She glanced over her shoulder to where Nathalie sat on the stuffed bench in the foyer meant for those waiting for a table.
“Still doing all right, hon,” the waitress asked, pausing. “Want anything else to drink?”
“No, water is fine, thank you,” Nellie said. She played with her lemon wedge. “There isn’t another part of the restaurant, is there? Like, another dining room in the back?”
“Sorry, hon,” the waitress said, smiling sympathetically. “I’m sure they’re just caught on the light at Honeylocust. Takes an age to turn.”
She nodded, trying to return the waitress’s smile but failing. She kept her focus on her lemon wedge, taking small sips of water for something to do. Her ears caught angry hisses, recognizing them. She twisted to look over her shoulder.
Nathalie was quietly berating Amias. She gestured angrily towards Nellie, causing Nellie to quickly spin back to the table or else be caught watching.
“Terribly sorry,” Amias said, rushing to fill the seat opposite. “The traffic is so much worse than expected for such a crumble of a town. Ah.” He tapped a passing server’s arm. “That blackboard says something about mimosas? Is that an all-day affair or–Never mind, just bring a pitcher.”
“Uh… sure,” the waiter said, looking around for anyone else to intervene. “What kind?”
“Beg pardon,” Amias asked.
“What kind of mimosa? The peach is–.”
“Dear boy, a mimosa is not so complex,” Amias said coolly. “And if you dare serve me a Bellini and say it’s a mimosa, I will take offence.”
“So… plain,” the server asked. He recoiled at Amias’s look. “I’ll go put that in for you.”
Amias had dark circles beneath his warm brown eyes that had not been there the previous day. His short black hair that somehow looked expensive was not as meticulous, and there was more shadow on his face than just his neat, thin moustache. He picked apart a roll from the basket recently placed, half eating it and completely destroying it.
Nellie quickly propped up a menu as his eyes shifted toward her. “I had the baked brie before,” she said. “I might get that again.”
“An appetizer as a meal,” Amias said, taking a glance at the menu. “How… frugal.” He peered at her plastic cup of water. “I’m treating you, my lamb. Order yourself a drink full of sweetness and caffeine to go with whatever meal you desire.” He perked up. “Ah, alcohol!” He took the pitcher of mimosa from the waitress. “A glass like my goddaughter’s would be preferred. Less fill ups.”
Sure,” the waitress said, sounding anything but. She took the flute, eyeing Amias warily before smiling at Nellie. “Know what you want, hon?”
“Um, a lemonade and I’ll try the bacon and seafood pasta,” Nellie said timidly.
“Bacon with shrimp,” Amias said, wrinkling his nose. He offered no further comment. “What is this jambalaya pasta? That sounds adventurous. I’ll give that a go. Oh,” he flipped to the back, “and the bread pudding, lava cake, and toffee butter cake for after.” He looked at Nellie. “Does your aunt like salmon?”
“Yes,” Nellie said.
“Place an order for the salmon citrus salad for takeaway, if you would,” Amias said. “That woman glaring daggers at me from your foyer will need to eat.”
The waitress kept her customer service smile frozen, her eyes on her notepad as she jotted down the massive order. She scurried off. It was a waiter that dropped off Amias’s large, plastic cup without a word or any interaction.
Nellie watched him gulp at his mimosa, frowning. He was not as put together as yesterday, and yesterday included an encounter with an unhappy Ash.
“Are you staying in Murfreesboro,” Nellie asked.
“Yes, in fact,” Amias said, refilling his cup. “I’m renting a townhouse. Charming unit. I wasn’t expecting to find such a comfort.”
“So… you slept okay then,” Nellie asked awkwardly, allowing Amias to see she was scanning him up and down.
Amias smirked wryly. He took a short sip of his mimosa, redirecting his attention to the server bringing the food. He directed the placement with friendly relish, and took his time placing his napkin on his lap and deciding between his fork and spoon.
Nellie was relieved the combination of bacon, shrimp, and crab turned out as tasty as she suspected.
“Are you staying for a while,” Nellie asked.
“No,” Amias said. “I’ll leave tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”
“And you rented a whole townhouse,” Nellie asked.
“I’m a spoiled creature.” He gave her hand a pat. “We’ll walk around this shopping district a tad. I will answer your questions.”
“Do you know what happened to Ira,” Nellie asked without missing a moment. “He’s not even looking at my messages.”
Amias still wore his smile, but there was an edge to it. He had a similar reaction yesterday; he was dismissive of Ira and his father. He took his time picking through his jambalaya, and took another long sip of his drink.
“I cannot speak much to what he’s up to or where he is,” Amias said.
“He said he was searching for his mother, and that she was a dragon, and so was mine,” Nellie said bluntly.
“Ah, yes, that,” Amias said. “This meal is spicer than expected. I may need another drink….” He flagged down the nearest waiter, ordering a single mimosa and a glass of water. He nursed the cup before him while he waited, and clearly to keep himself occupied.
Nellie drummed her fingers on the table, narrowing her blue eyes at him.
“Ah, that looks more like the Commander,” Amias said. His smile wavered when Nellie did not take the bait. “My meager understanding of it is that he is indeed searching for his mother.” His eyes fell. “Elspeth Plantagenet was… a figure of great renown. Her disappearance has been troubling.”
“Disappearence, or dragoning,” Nellie asked.
“To that I cannot attest,” Amias said.
“Dragons are real then,”Nellie breathed.
Amias laughed lightly, his eyes following the waiter returning with the requested drinks while the waitress brought the desserts. “Of course not,” Amias dismissed. “Creatures of fantasy! Unless you count those monstrous lizards at the local zoo.” He continued to laugh in a polite manner, abruptly stopping and leaning over the table as the servers walked off. “They are real. So very, very real.”
Her face lit with a beaming grin. She gave a small squeal, wiggling in her seat. Ira was far too serious to just lie about dragons, or use them to describe something abstract.
“Then… my mother–?”
“Yes,” Amias said, holding up his head to stop her from speaking it out loud in a crowded restaurant. “In fact, what happened to Brue was the missing piece to what happened regarding–.” He flipped his hand about as if unwilling to once more speak the name Elspeth Plantagenet. “How exactly this–” he paused, eyes rolling up as he searched for the proper term– “situation befell your mother is still unknown. Magic of some like, I suspect. But, the knowledge that it happened to her did solve the question of what happened to… the other woman. Or what we suspect happened to her.”
“Why are you being weird about saying her name,” Nellie asked.
“She is of some note,” Amias said. “I do not wish to invite people to eavesdrop.”
“Um… this is the middle of Tennessee in the US. People don’t know or care about Europeans.”
His lip curled. “Quite.” He slid the lava cake towards her. “Cut into that, my dear, and make sure it’s proper.”
She happily obliged, though she would have eaten it even if it did not pour forth liquid ganache. She tested the taste, smiling at the dark chocolate goodness not being sickeningly sweet.
“What other questions have you for me,” Amias asked, helping himself to a forkful of bread pudding. “Your mother’s condition is correct. How she came by it I do not know. I believe those were the looming ones.”
“And if you knew what was up with Ira,” Nellie added.
“Which I don’t,” Amias said. “I assume he is off doing this mother searching as you believe. I also assume he’s unharmed. Heaven help those who strive to harm the little prince.” Amias rolled his eyes. “Though his mother had more snarl, his father is nothing to look lightly upon.”
“You don’t like Ira, do you,” Nellie asked. She held the lava cake up. “Taste this.”
“Like,” Amias chuckled, bemused. “What a notion! I merely have opinions on his family and he’s a key part of that family.”
There was nothing about Clayborne York that struck Nellie as something a person would form an opinion on. He owned two bed and breakfast locations that had excellent reviews, and a hotel that only had thirty rooms. It was enough for a decent income, Nellie knew the hotel at least was in a desirable area just outside of London so would see the rooms full nearly year round, but it was not anywhere close to being an empire with influence and opinions.
The hostility–opinions–may have come from Clayborne York training with the Order of Ferblanc, but that was too petty. Ira said his father only trained with them and never joined whereas Rhys joined, and climbed the ranks enough to be tapped as a commander in his new job. Amias did not seem to dislike her father, but that could have been fondness for her mother.
He was odd about Ira’s mother. Nellie had not looked into her, only finding spare moments to glimpse Clayborne’s information. His profiles were few and far with only the sparse information about his little properties, though it was mentioned he was married with one child when a personal life section was included.
“Ah,” Amias said, staring beyond Nellie. “Your aunt has retreated to eat her meal. Excellent! And the toffee butter cake is still untouched. Very good.” He abruptly stood, and downed the rest of his single mimosa. “I’ll return shortly.”
“O-okay,” Nellie stammered.
She slumped as Amias headed towards the bathrooms, understandable with the amount of liquid he had consumed. She twisted to see that Nathalie indeed was not sitting on the bench in the foyer any longer. She craned her neck, rising slightly from her seat to see if she could find her to no avail. She poked at the bread pudding with a frown. This meal was much more than she had on her. Hopefully Amias was not trying to ditch out.
A boy dropped into Amias’s seat. He grabbed the toffee butter cake, stabbed it, and hungrily ate a bite.
Nellie blinked in surprise, as if trying to make sure there really was a pre-teen boy that appeared and was eating her dessert. She looked around the dining room for anyone that might be missing a kid, but no one so much as looked in their direction.
“Excuse me,” Nellie said. “You’re at the wrong–.”
“I’m Morgan,” he said, swallowing his next large bite roughly.
The way he spoke his name indicated English was not his first language, but he was still a native speaker. It was too slight to be firmly labeled an accent, and Nellie would not have noticed it if she was not familiar with accents generally.
Morgan chewed, closing his hazel eyes in pleasure. He had a warm complexion a few shades darker than her lightly tanned. His hair looked black inside Mimi’s, but she suspected it was just very dark brown, though she could not say why. He wore it longer to cover his ears, but not long enough to touch his shoulders. It was cut jagged but somehow came across as expensive, styled, and cool which went with his shirt that was European in style and name.
Morgan’s fork clattered on the empty plate. He dabbed his mouth daintily. “I was famished! Hope you weren’t wanting any.” He leapt to his feet. “Let’s go before your aunt returns to her post.”
“Go? What? The bill–,” Nellie said lamely, standing.
“Amias is taking care of it,” Morgan said.
“But–?”
“We won’t go far,” Morgan said. “Just over to the shopping district. Come on, hurry up!”
She followed Morgan, shooting her waitress a bashful smile as she slipped by her for the door. She stole a look back but did not see Amias reappearing to pay the bill. Her insides twisted with guilt, but she kept pace with Morgan out the doors and into the full parking lot.
The dark clouds hung low and ominous over them, cooling the low 70s temperature. She crossed her arms tightly and looked around the parking lot, spotting the Crown Victoria just around the corner. She could not see through the windshield from that angle, but assumed Nathalie was inside finishing up the lunch Amias bought.
“Why’re you just standing there,” Morgan asked, trotting for the busy road that separated Mimi’s Cafe from the big parking lots for the Avenues shopping center. “There’s a break in traffic. Hurry!”
Nellie sprinted after him, crossing the street into the parking lot. Fat, cold rain drops started to fall, the frequency picking up until it was thick and steady. She hugged her wet sweater to herself as she found herself on the sidewalk under the awning in front of the import store.
Morgan put his hands into his hair, shaking the rain from it. He slicked it back off his forehead, and Nellie was struck by the difference. He looked more mature, more noble, and a bit cold. There was something else that had her staring hard, but she could not figure it out. Something to do with his smile or his eyes.
“You’re staring,” Morgan said.
“I am,” Nellie said unflinchingly. She stared more obviously, ducking slightly to look directly at his face. “There’s something off about you.”
“OMG, Perenelle?”
She flinched, straightening, and putting on a happy face for Emma, Sophia, and Olivia. They were all semi-dressed up just as she was. Emma had her shiny blonde hair in a carefully crafted messy bun, wearing tan UGG boots and tight, black leggings. Sophia wore her darker shade of blonde in a high ponytail with a claw-clip meant to look like a piece of sushi. Olivia’s curly hair was in a chunky braid that curled over the shoulder of her cropped sweatshirt.
“Hey, guys,” Nellie said. “Where’s Ava?”
“She just headed for the bookstore a minute ago,” Sophia said, her eyes scanning Morgan with great interest.
“I thought you said you didn’t feel good,” Olivia said with a hint of accusation. “We invited you. Did you have something better to do?”
“Clearly,” Morgan said. He smirked impishly. “I’m her cousin. Flew in last night.”
Nellie whipped around so fast she gave himself whiplash.
Amias told her that she inherited Brue’s smile. Brue and her brother probably had the same smile, and he passed it to Morgan. It was the similarity that caused her pause; the smile and the shape of their eyes were the same.
“Amias brought you,” Nellie breathed.
“Not exactly,” Morgan said. “I heard he was coming to visit and followed.” He looked at the three girls pointedly. “I’m stealing her away for the day. It’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.”
“Oh, sure, of course,” Sophia said hastily, ushering the other two towards the edge of the awning. “Text us tonight, Perenelle!”
“We’ve got to hang out before break is over,” Emma added.
The three of them psyched themselves up and darted into the rain.
“You’re my cousin,” Nellie hissed.
“Who else would I be?” He shook his hair again so that it hung in its lazy mop. “Come on, let’s waste some time before Amias and your aunt find us.”
She followed Morgan into World Market, shaking her sweater sleeves vainly against the damp that seeped into them. They wound their way through the nonsensical shelving in the middle of the store–displaying whatever was seasonal–to the snacks and food stuffs in the back.
Morgan picked up a chocolate hazelnut spread from Spain, turning the glass jar over with boredom. “Do you go by Nellie or Perenelle,” he asked.
“I guess both,” she said. “Or… Nellie, but I never told anyone it was okay to call me that since moving here.”
“I’ll call you Nellie then.” He put the chocolate hazelnut spread back, picking up lemon curd. “I’m just Morgan.”
“Not Regere jr,” Nellie asked.
Morgan snickered but did not seem amused. He put the lemon curd back, turning completely to browse the shelves of cookies crammed at their back. “He would send regards if he knew I was here.”
Nellie picked up a package of Jammie Dodgers. She frowned at the price, waivered, and took a more possessive grip. She would need something comforting after ditching Nathalie, and she could bribe her into a better mood with a few.
“Where do you live,” Nellie asked. She flushed at Morgan’s incredulous look. “What am I supposed to ask you then? There’s too much!”
“Lisbon,” Morgan said. He gave a shrug. “Well, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Six to nine months out of the year,” he said.
She gave it a few seconds, but Morgan did not seem interested in elaborating. “How come? Divorced parents?”
“Hardly,” he said. He waved flippantly. “Work travels. It’s tedious. Give me your phone a minute. Unlocked, please.”
“Why,” she asked suspiciously, taking her phone out of her skirt pocket and holding it close.
“So I can add myself to your contact list.”
“Why don’t you give me your unlocked phone,” Nellie said.
“It’s at the townhouse,” Morgan said. “I make it a habit to never have it while I'm out.” He smirked. “Harder to track that way. May I?”
She reluctantly unlocked her phone and handed it over. She hovered next to Morgan, popping up on her toes to gain another inch on him.
“Pretty dog,” Morgan murmured, navigating away from the homepage screen.
“Smoke wolf,” Nellie corrected.
“Canidae,” Morgan retorted, handing back her phone.
They stood in awkwardness, silence between them deafening them to the rain pounding on the metal roof and the noise of the store filled with people perusing the wares. Nellie had been truthful when she said she was not sure what to ask him, and Morgan for his part was not very forthcoming.
“Oh,” Nellie exclaimed, causing her cousin to jump. “The clearance snacks are back here. It’s good for trying some really random stuff.”
“Clearence… as in expired,” Morgan asked, raising his dark eyebrows.
“It’s not rotten or anything,” Nellie dismissed.
She circled to the back of the shelves with Morgan on her heels. She crouched, tip-toed, and bobbed around the assorted snacks while Morgan turned his back to browse the tea selection against the wall.
“There isn’t such a grand selection,” Morgan commented. “Suppose having any loose leaf in this country is progress.”
“Another tea snob in the family,” Nellie joked. Then she clarified, “My uncle is very English about his tea.”
“So is our shared grandfather from the little I remember of him,” Morgan said.
Nellie fumbled her Jammie Dodgers. “He’s dead!”
“What, no,” Morgan said, scowling. “What a leap! No, he just doesn’t like me. Doesn’t visit any. I was probably seven the last time I saw him.”
“How old are you now,” Nellie asked. She fumed at Morgan’s sly expression and exasperated head shake. “You aren't giving me a lot to work with, cous!”
“Eleven; yes, you’re older,” Morgan said. “Not by much. Don’t swell your head over it.”
It made a bit more sense why he was grating her nerves the more time they spent together with this knowledge. The only disappointment was that it was more likely he was only shorter because of his younger age, although that was not such a big deal. It just highlighted she was older and more mature no matter his jetsetting lifestyle in Europe.
Nellie abandoned the clearance shelves. There was nothing interesting. She meandered towards the drinks wall with Morgan hovering behind her. She pursed her lips to fight against a smile; her little cousin was in unfamiliar territory and was sticking close.
“Want me to buy you a soda,” Nellie asked.
“I’d love a strong tea after that sweet cake, actually, but all they have for pre-brewed are those Asian milk teas you find in the vending machines,” Morgan said.
“They might have the bottled green tea in stock,” Nellie said optimistically. “That cuts the sweet well. It’d be over here with the fancy waters and soda.”
“That sounds promising,” Morgan said. “Thanks… unless they don’t have any. Then–.” He shrugged.
The way the drinks were shelved did not make much sense to her, so she set about bobbing and weaving to search for the bottled green tea. The jasmine was in stock–also quite bitter and strong–but the flowery aftertaste was not at all what Morgan had in mind.
“I should ask; do you know what happened to Ira? I can’t get a hold of him,” Nellie said. “Amias assumes he’s off looking for his mom, but he was here looking for her and still used his phone. He’s not even reading my messages.”
“Maybe you’re irritating him,” Morgan said. He picked up a pineapple ramune soda with interest. “I don’t really speak to him, nor he to me.”
“Why,” Nellie asked. “Seems good to keep close to others who know about magic, and dragons, and cryptids.”
Morgan grinned. “The world is large, dear cousin. So much larger than a handful of people.” He looked between the pineapple ramune in his right hand and the melon one in his left. “Have you tried any of these? They look fun.”
“I’ve had the melon,” Nellie said.
“Then the pineapple,” Morgan decided, placing the melon back. “You can try a sip since you're paying for it.”
“That won’t cut any sweetness leftover from that cake.”
“So I shall suffer, but it’s of my choosing.” He handed her the soda. “Amias is probably right. I’m sure he’s fine. I would not be terribly surprised if he was being kept busy by his father. He does have a lot on his plate, as the saying is.”
Nellie chose a lychee ramune with the thought of allowing Morgan a sip. They headed towards the check-out, hugging the wall where all the dishes, glassware, and utensils were displayed. They got sidetracked by the crazy array of coffee mugs, snickering snidely at the on-the-nose feminist ones shaped like chubby torsos with words like ‘beautiful’ or ‘powerful’ painted on the front.
“Oh, I got another question,” Nellie said. “Do you know Penny?”
“Penny,” Morgan said, scrunching his face. “Can’t say that’s familiar. Why?”
“Ira talked to her a lot,” Nellie said. She laughed. “Me and my… we thought maybe she was his girlfriend but he always pretended not to hear us when we asked.”
“She probably is then.” He grinned wickedly. “That’s too good!”
The line was long and the registers slow. They eyed the extra stuff near the register, all various forms of useless but enticing in their novelties. Nellie had to remind Morgan a few times they were only getting the sodas and Jammie Dodgers as he pawed over the items. She carefully typed Nathalie’s number into the card reader, trying to keep the numbers straight.
“Amias said you guys were leaving tonight,” Nellie murmured.
“He was rather frantic when I showed up last night,” Morgan said offhandedly. “Suppose he would cut his visit short to get me back.” He spun to her so quickly that the cashier startled. “Let’s skeeve tomorrow!”
“Ditch what,” Nellie asked, handing a ten to the cashier. “I’m on break. I can do what I want. …Within reason.”
“You must be as curious about his highness looking for his mother here, of all places, as I am,” Morgan said. “Why don’t we do a bit of sleuthing? Maybe it’ll answer where he is? Or maybe he’s even here again but not wanting to get sidetracked away from his quest like the last time.” His eyes were sparkling. “Do you have any idea–?”
“Perenelle Herle!”
This time Nellie and Morgan joined the cashier in jumping out of their skins. Nathalie stood tall with the automatic doors open to her back, rainwater streaming off her. Her blue eyes blazed. Her hands were clenched into shaking fists at her sides.
Amias flitted in behind her as she stormed up to the counter. He held his arms out, allowing them to drip, looking much like a half drowned cat–exhausted and wild.
“How dare you run off like that,” Nathalie fumed. “I was completely sick with worry!” Morgan gulped as Nathalie rounded on him. Her face softened only slight enough for Nellie to notice. “Mr. Baig will see to you.”
Nellie took her change and receipt from the cashier, not meeting her stare or answering her mutter to have a nice day, as she stuffed them in her shopping bag.. Her face burned with embarrassment now that the shock of Nathalie’s intervention wore off. She dashed after Nathalie without a word.
Nathalie had pulled the pearlescent Crown Vic up to the store. It had both front doors open, windshield wipers going, and hazards blinking. She had clearly some idea as to where Nellie would wander off to. Amias must have done what he could to delay her. It surely added to her fury.
“Get in,” Nathalie ordered, dropping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door.
Nellie could see the rest of her Spring Break evaporating right before her eyes.
“Nellie,” Morgan called, rushing into the rain.
“Master Morgan,” Amias pleaded, staying beneath the awning.
Nellie paused with her foot on the car. The seat was soaked already, a few minutes more would not matter. She found bitter tears falling from her eyes, grateful for the rain hiding this from her young cousin.
“Perenelle,” Nathalie said sharply.
“Master Morgan, please, come away,” Amias begged. “She’s gotten in enough trouble.”
Morgan pointedly ignored Amias. He gave Nathalie a cool glance down to where she sat, and wrapped his arms around Nellie in a hug that felt completely calculated and not at all affectionate. In her ear, he whispered, “Text me later, and we’ll work out tomorrow’s plans.” Then, he pulled away and returned to Amias, declaring, “I'm soaked though, Amias; how dare you let me get so!”
Nellie slumped in her wet seat. She pulled out the Jammie Dodgers, peeking at Nathalie from the sides of her eyes. She cleared her throat, flinching at the glare Nathalie shot her.
“Want a Jammie Dodger?”
------------------------
I like Mimi's. They had one in FL not far from one of the houses we lived at, and was happy to see one in Murfreesboro. It's French/Louisiana-French food mostly. I've had the baked brie 2 or 3 times. So tasty. (We had brie in the house with some regularity since I was small, and in Australia I used to do brie and crackers for the cabin/camp. Haven't done a baked brie yet.) And, yes, the Honeylocust light takes forever! When I'd get caught at it going to the groomer, I knew I'd be a minute+ late.
Elspeth goes by Elsie. Amias either doesn't know or feels weird calling her that. I had 'Elsie Plantaneget' written down before I looked to see what Elsie was short for: Elizabeth or the Scottish version Elspeth/Elsbeth. I thought the 'p' was weirder, so went with that one.
I've always really, really liked the name Morgan and at one point thought I'd name my kid that, but as I got older I started liking it less for a girl and more for a boy. I did have it on my list for middle names if I had a boy. I'm not sure if it'll still be there after all this is done, lol.
World Market is the import store I'm always going to. Somtimes they do have really cringe things like those feminist mugs. When they get stuff like that, they put them front and center for a few weeks, and you later find a bunch in clearence months later. This is a store where someone started talking to Minnie, asked how old to me, and since she was exactly number of months because it was the 21st I said X months today, and the lady goes omg a leo, and that was not considered odd for that place. That type of store. Fun people watching.
This is the longest chapter so far. And why it was finished now and not on Saturday like I was thinking it would be.
