A Matter of Taste - Chapter 12

Morning dawned too early, and I woke groaning at the hour, at the long day ahead of me. Mostly, I groaned at the certainty that I would see Bansi again. I didn't know how to face him. The kisses we'd shared the day before had been different. Something had changed between us, the ground shifted and suddenly uneven beneath my feet, and my life was already a carefully-orchestrated routine, like one of those street entertainers one sometimes saw in the Walk, who somehow managed to dance and perform acrobatics all while keeping half a dozen balls or apples or melons in the air. That was my life, that was how I kept a roof over our heads and food on our table, the shop running and coin trickling into savings for Elodie's education. It was a dance I knew by heart through years of routine, and one in which only a hair's breadth separated success from failure. I couldn't be off balance. I couldn't afford to stumble.

And Bansi was like an earthquake, tossing the ground beneath me and throwing everything to chaos. I had to keep my feet under me. I had to keep him at a distance.

I opened the front door, ushering Elodie out before me into the chill morning, and felt the ground tilt off its axis at the sight of a little package on our front step, something small and rectangular, bundled up in brown paper and twine.

"Papa!" Elodie crouched and scooped it up before I could think what to do with it. She held it cupped in her hands like a fallen bird, eager but careful. Her eyes shone at me in the thin morning light. "What is it? What'd you get?"

I swallowed down the first words that I found on my tongue. They were all instinct, short and sharp. They'd have killed the light on her face and made her surly the rest of the day, and I with her. "I don't know," I said at length. "I haven't bought anything. I don't think it's ours."

I consoled myself with the knowledge that it wasn't a lie. Not really. I didn't know what it was. I hadn't bought anything. And it wasn't mine. It was Bansi's, I was sure. If he wanted to give it to me, fine. It didn't become mine until I accepted the gift, but that was as likely to happen with this as it had been with any of the others. Whatever it was, I'd throw it out, cast it away. I couldn't be bought.

It was easier when he'd left the gifts at my shop. I never should have shown him where I lived.

Elodie's face twisted into an expression that made it clear she thought that was the stupidest thing that had ever come from my mouth. "Of course it's ours, Papa. Someone left it for us. See?" She turned one of the package's faces toward me, showing me the place where Bansi's familiar, elegant script had written Mr. Renad Davyas across the package's top.

I bit back a sigh, and forced a smile instead. "Well, then. It must be a surprise someone has sent for us." I hooked my arm through Elodie's and reached to take the box from her. "We'll save it for tonight, shall we? It will give us something to look forward to."

"Tonight?" Her face fell until it was a caricature of dismay and disappointment. She thrust her lower lip out and wrestled away from me just so she could cross her arms over her chest, with the box still caught securely between them. "No! We have to open it now!"

"We'll be late, El." I settled for a hand on the small of her back, instead, and ushered her along. "We'll open it tonight."

"We'll open it at Corine's."

I frowned at her, but she was blithe, oblivious. She shot me back a look so full of arch innocence that only a child could have managed it. "You'll sit and have tea with her anyway, Papa. You'll have time. It won't make you late. And Corine will want to see, too!"

I had to bite back my reaction to that thought. Corine would want to see, indeed. And whatever it was that Bansi had sent me, it was bound to be fine enough and precious enough to make her raise her eyebrows and shoot me a look I had no will to answer. She'd want to know who had sent it to me, and why, and if I told her the same I had Elodie, that it must have been sent by some anonymous admirer… Well, she was a grown woman, and no fool. Elodie had been taken by the romance of the notion, but Corine would see it for the lie it was. And then I'd never hear the end of it.

"I think we should leave it here," I said to Elodie, or rather, to her back as she stomped off ahead of me. "What if it's delicate? It would be terribly rude of us to break a gift someone's taken the time to send us."

"We won't break it," she said, arch again, shooting a disdainful look back over her shoulder. "I'll be careful."

I relented. If I pressed the issue, we were going to fight, and Bansi would have been the cause, and I refused to allow that. It was bad enough he was such a source of frustration and upset in my own life. I wouldn't let him sow discord between my daughter and I, as well.

When we reached Corine's, Elodie had recovered from our squabbling. She danced up the walk to Corine's door, hugging the box to her chest and bouncing on her toes. When Corine opened the door, while I was still two steps behind her and trying to catch up, Elodie thrust the box out. "Look!" she cried. "Someone sent us a present!"

"Did they? How special!" Corine accepted the box from her hands and gave her a considering look. "It's not your birthday again already, is it, Miss El? I swear you just had one yesterday!"

Elodie gave a peal of giggles, clapping her hands over her mouth. "It wasn't yesterday. Don't be silly." She scooted into the house as I came up behind her. 

Corine caught my eye. She raised a brow. "What's all that about?"

I shook my head. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to be said, really. Nothing I cared to. Nothing that wouldn't lead to trouble. "I don't know," I said, mumbled, my head ducked down as I tried to follow Elodie inside.

Corine braced a hand against the door frame, blocking my passage. I looked up at her reluctantly, knowing what was to come. She just gave me a flat look. I'd seen her give Yvas that look any number of times, when he'd done something wrong and was trying to lie to her about it.

"I don't know," I said, my voice rough with honestly. "I don't know what it is. I don't know... why."

Her brows lifted higher, but the corner of her mouth turned up, a small smile of victory and satisfaction. "But you know who."

Not a question. It didn't need to be. I scrubbed at my brow, then ducked under her arm and into the house. "I need tea," I said grimly. "I hope your kettle's on."

"Not yet." She hung it over the fire, then turned back and motioned me to the chair at her table. "You're just going to have to put up with being interrogated while you wait."

I shut my eyes, sighed and shook my head. "Must I? This isn't the morning for it, Corine."

"Oh, you must, certainly." She sat opposite me, and despite the teasing lilt to her words, her expression was as unyielding as I'd ever seen it. She propped her elbows on the table, her chin on her knuckles. "Who sent it, Renad?"

I leaned back in my chair with a sigh that felt as though it stole all the air from my lungs. "It isn't welcome. I don't want it."

"That's not what I asked, is it?" She looked me over with a narrowed, speculative gaze. "Is it the same man who made you so happy, that while back?"

I tightened my jaw. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Her brows lifted as though I'd admitted everything. "And who made you so surly, a few weeks after?"

"Damn it, Corine."

"Watch your language, if you please," she said mildly. "The children might be listening. And I'll take that for a yes."

"He doesn't make me happy. He makes me crazy."

"They do that, don't they?" Her smile softened, turned sympathetic rather than calculating. "What's his name? Why haven't you introduced us?"

Because you already know him. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. "If it were important enough to warrant it, I would have."

"He's sending you gifts, Renad. It sounds serious to me."

I bared my teeth. Whether it was a silent snarl or an agonized grimace, not even I could have said. "It's a bribe. That's all. He thinks he can buy me. I'm going to outlast him."

She glanced over to where Elodie sat by her spindle and basket of wool, the package on the floor before her, her hands plucking impatiently at the string that bound it. She gnawed on her lip as she eyed me, and I knew my daughter well enough to know she was calculating how long I might make her wait before we opened it, judging whether or not wheedling was likely to get her what she wanted sooner, or only vex me enough to delay it.

Corine looked back at me, the edges of her smile whetted sharp once more. "Sure," she said lightly. "He sends you gifts, you accept them. I can't imagine why he wouldn't think he could buy you."

"I didn't accept it! I--" I sucked air through my teeth and leaned across the table so I could drop my voice to a fierce whisper, too low to reach across the room to Elodie. "I'd have pitched it into the gutter if I'd known it was there. But Elodie saw it first, before I could do anything, and she's got the bit between her teeth now. You know how she is. She'll think of nothing else until I let her open it and see what's in that damned box."

Corine laughed quietly and ducked her head. Her fingers drummed out a rapid beat against the table's edge. "Oh, Renad. Are you sure you haven't got it wrong? Seems to me he's courting your daughter, not you." She followed my gaze when it flashed immediately back to Elodie. She was on her belly now, her chin on the floor and her face up against the package, prying back one corner of the paper it was wrapped in, trying to peer inside. "And doing a fine job of it, too."

"He's not." The words hissed through my teeth, unexpectedly fierce. "It's just happenstance, is all it was today. He doesn't know."

Corine hesitated, her gaze on me, focused close as though she was waiting for me to finish a sentence she didn't know I'd already ended. When a second moment passed, and another, her brow furrowed. "He doesn't know Elodie?"

I bit on my tongue, on the inside of my cheek. It didn't help. The words came falling out of me all the same. "Doesn't know about her."

Corine sat back abruptly. There was astonishment in her gaze, but also something condemning. "No," she said slowly. "I was wrong. It isn't serious at all."

I drew a breath. She spoke before I could.

"You haven't told him about your daughter?"

I rubbed a hand over my jaw. The muscles there were so tight they ached. "Why should I have? It's none of his concern. I don't want him around."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, expression tight and unhappy. Behind her, the kettle's rumble turned to an unsteady whistle, but she made no move to take it off the fire, just kept staring at me, full of disapproval.

I slid my chair back and rose to get the kettle and make the tea. I had work to do, a shop to run. I couldn't wait all day for tea. 

"You're a wonder, Renad Davyas, do you know that?" She spat the words out, hard and fast, like it was an accusation, not praise.

I put the tea pot and the cups on the table, then took my chair and gestured Elodie over. "Bring that here, sweetheart. Let's see what we've been sent."

Elodie jumped up as though she'd only been waiting for the word, and scrambled up into my lap with the box. "Can I open it, Papa? Can I? Please?"

"Certainly." I wrapped an arm around her waist and propped my chin on her shoulder. "Do you need help with the knot?"

She shot me a withering look. "No." She ripped the twine off deftly, as though to prove her point, then tore at the paper underneath.

I didn't know what I expected, but I held my breath as she opened the package. When the paper fell away to reveal a wooden box, carved with an intricate pattern of vines and polished to a high shine, I forgot to breathe entirely. There were semiprecious stones inlaid in the box's surface, emeralds cut into the shape of leaves, opals glistening like dew drops, flowers petaled with sapphire and vermillion.

Corine pressed the knuckles of one hand to her mouth and stared at me, wide-eyed and pale. Elodie gasped and clapped in delight, then reached for the box with grabby hands. "Papa! It's so pretty. Can I see?"

"Be careful, love," I said as I handed it to her. "It's a very fine gift."

I shouldn't have cared if she'd smashed it to pieces there on Corine's floor. I'd tossed out every other gift Bansi had given to me. Why should I feel protective of this one? Except that it still pained me, as it always had, to think of how a moment's carelessness could destroy something worth so much. It was the waste of it, when I'd never had the luxury of being wasteful.

"I will," she promised, and pushed her back against my chest to make room on her lap to put the box. She thumbed open the delicate filigree latch and lifted the lid slowly, hunching down to peer inside as though the box contained the secrets of the heavens.

When the lid was fully opened, it revealed a tiny figure on a spring, who stood straight now that the lid wasn't bending her low, and began to spin as music filled Corine's tiny kitchen.

I didn't know the song. The tune was unfamiliar, the chords strange and unlike those in the music I had grown up with. It had an exotic rhythm, a lilting beat that was strangely compelling. It sounded like something I'd have heard Bansi humming under his breath in idle moments, a song from faraway, sun-drenched lands.

"Papa..." Elodie pinched the tiny figure between her fingers, stopping its spinning, and leaned in even closer to squint at it. "Papa, it's me."

"What?" Ice dropped into my chest, making each beat of my heart painful. I brushed Elodie's hands aside and lifted the box to peer at it myself. The figure was carved to depict a young girl spinning about on one foot, loose, foreign clothing swirling about her. "I don't know, love. She has your hair color." I squinted through the flickering candlelight. "She might have your eyes. I'm not sure that means she's you."

"Of course she is." Elodie ducked her chin down against her chest and gave me a baleful look. "It's meant for me, isn't it, Papa? Is the box for me?"

I wanted to protest, to tell her no, to throw the box out and never have to think of it again. But the waste... The waste of it made my fingers clench on the corners of the box.

But was it any greater waste than to keep the box, or give it to Elodie? Either way, the purchase was made, the coin spent. I could sell it, could pry the stones and pearls off and trade them in the market, and if I struck a good bargain, maybe have enough to send Elodie to school without any effort or worry.

But Elodie was enchanted by the damned thing, had taken it for her own as soon as she'd decided upon the resemblance between her and the dancing figure. She had little enough joy and wonder in her life. No price I might have been able to get for the box was worth taking that away from her.

"You know, El," I said, "I think you must be right. Something so pretty couldn't possibly be meant for me." I hugged her close and kissed the crown of her head. "You must promise to take very good care of it, though. It's a precious gift. I'll expect you to treat it as such."

"Yes, Papa. Yes, of course!" She scrambled off my lap, box clutched close against her chest, and ran off into the back rooms, hollering for Yvas. In moments, the music of Bansi's homeland was drifting out to us, as beguiling as the scent of spices on the city's breeze. It set my teeth on edge.

Corine propped her chin on her hand and watched me, brows raised, until the expectant silence was so thick it felt like it might choke me.

I could out wait her. I poured tea into my cup and drank it as though it were any other morning, though in truth I'd drunk too hastily and the liquid was still near scalding. I wanted to spit it out, wanted to gasp and swear. But Corine still watched me with a mother's keen gaze, and I was unwilling to give anything away, so I gulped it down and smiled as though my mouth was not throbbing.

Corine sighed and slid her chair back with a sharp scrape that sounded like the crack of frozen tree branches in deep winter. "You can be a real asshole sometimes, Renad, you know that?"

I sat back and regarded her in consternation.

"I'm your friend. I ask because I care about you. There's no need to act like I'm the constabulary come to interrogate you."

I stared at the rough wood grain on her tabletop. "It's my business, Corine. I'm not obligated to spill my secrets to you just because you care."

Her lips pressed into a bloodless line. "No. I don't suppose you are." She took up her own steaming, untouched cup of tea and moved off toward the children. "Do latch the door behind you when you go, won't you?"

Her anger stung, burning even worse than the tea. I stared after her, unable to speak, though I wanted to. I wanted to call her back and apologize. I wanted to explain everything, so she would understand. But I couldn't do that. If I told her this was all because of Bansi, she'd only be more disappointed with me, not less. She'd stare at me like I'd lost my mind, and probably ask me if I had. And then I'd never hear the end of it from her.

Bad enough I had Bansi making himself known every time I blinked, even when he wasn't around. I didn't need Corine a constant weight on my mind as well.

I finished my tea and followed the sounds of music until I found Elodie in Yvas's room so I could kiss her good-bye. Corine was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well. I meant what I'd said, and I didn't have it in me to apologize. We were friends, but that didn't grant her unrestricted access to every part of my life. I was sure there were plenty of things in her life that she didn't care to tell me, and I didn't pry, did I? We were friends. That meant I respected her enough to honor her desire for privacy.

The walk from Corine's to my shop felt longer and colder than it should have, even despite the season. Winter released its grip on our city reluctantly, and it wasn't uncommon for frigid winds to howl through and chase away the warmth of a nascent spring, but this felt icy even by our standards I huddled inside my coat, shoulders hunched and hands tucked between my arms and my ribs to keep my fingers from turning into icicles. The wind felt stronger than it had before, the bite of it colder. Every patch of road I stepped on seemed slippery with ice, precarious, and by the time I made it to my shop's door, I was in no mood to speak with anyone, especially not customers.

I let myself in, locked the door behind me, and wished for another cup of Corine's scalding tea on which to thaw my fingers. I had an hour or so yet to work, and the rhythm of it might help set my mood to rights, but the cold had made my fingers stiff and clumsy. I tried to work through it, but every time I fumbled a bolt or had to go chasing down a nut that had rolled off the counter and made a break for it across the shop floor, it only added fuel to the fire of my wretched mood.

Someone tried the handle of the shop's door. I ignored it, breathing on my fingers to try to restore some semblance of warmth and function to them. My hours were posted on the door, and it wasn't yet time to open. They could wait, or they could go elsewhere.

But a heartbeat after whoever it was gave up on the door, a sharp knock startled me, made me jump and spill half a box of gears across the countertop and the floor. I stared at them, anger buzzing under my skin, making my heart pound against my breastbone.

The knock came again. I shoved my chair back and stalked to the door, threw the locks and wrenched the door open. I didn't feel any surprise at all at the sight of Bansi standing on the opposite side, looking warm in his layers of coats and scarves, his thrummed mittens and hat pulled down over his ears like we were truly in the depths of winter. He beamed a smile at me and made to step across the threshold. "There you are. Did you have cotton in your ears? I saw your light coming out beneath the door, so I knew you must be here already, but then it seemed like you'd never come."

I hated him for looking so warm and being so cheerful, when I was cold and miserable. "The door was locked for a reason."

His smile dimmed, but only a few degrees. "I brought you this. Thought you could use it." He held up a square box, bigger than the one left on my doorstep, then shouldered past me into the shop. I closed the door behind him, only to keep out the howling wind that tried to follow him.

"Two gifts in one morning?" I snapped, coming around to the opposite side of the counter. "Isn't that a bit much, even for you?"

I had thought his smile was warm before, but now it turned brilliant. His eyes shone at me as he put this new box on the counter between us. "Oh, you did get that one. Good. I wasn't sure if they'd be able to deliver it on time. I'm glad." He lifted the lid off the box and pushed it toward me. "Here. I'd hoped to meet you here with this, but I had to walk slowly, so it wouldn't spill."

I peered into it despite myself. There was a cup inside, with a saucer turned upside down to cover the top, and wads of clean, fluffy wool tucked about its sides to fill in the rest of the box. I lifted the saucer off, dubious and uncertain what to make of this strange gift. As I did so, it released a cloud of steam, warm as heaven and smelling of tea and the most delicious spices.

I put the saucer aside and lifted the cup out gingerly. It was full near to the brim, and hot to the touch. I couldn't help but wrap my fingers around the porcelain. The warmth of it drained all the irritation out of me. I sank down onto my chair and nearly whimpered. 

Bansi leaned one hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, grinning at me fit to split his face in two. "I knew you'd like that. Didn't think you'd get all weak-kneed over it before you gave it a taste, though. That's a surprise."

I glared at him, but it was weak, feeble. I pressed the cup against my chest and sighed as the warmth seeped all through me. "You're too smug for your own good, Ban. You could at least try to act humble."

"Humility is just your country's word for lying to yourself. I prefer to live an honest man." He gestured at me. No, at the cup that I was still cradling as though it were as precious as the box and I feared he'd take it away from me. "Go on. Try it. It'll warm you better from the inside."

I pulled the cup away from my chest reluctantly, gripped my fingers tighter around it to make up for the loss and lifted it up until I could breathe in the fragrant steam. It smelled like Ban, like the spices and herbs that always clung to his skin, and like the tea that I drank every day at home. It smelled like us.

I sipped it gingerly, wary of the heat, but it didn't burn. It was just the right side of hot, smooth and sweet with cream and honey, full of herbs that burst across my palate in a surprising combination. I made a low sound of surprise and delight, then flushed hot when it made Ban chuckle, a rich, deep, intimate sound.

I set the cup down on the counter, though I couldn't quite manage to bring myself so far as to unwrap my fingers from that delicious heat. "What is it?"

"It's tea, the way we sometimes drink it at home. You like it?"

"I love it," I admitted despite myself. "I've never had anything like it. You'll ruin me for plain tea."

"I'll bring it to you every day." He swung around the counter and drew me close with an arm hooked around my waist. "Twice a day. Hourly."

"You will not! I'll grow fat as a winter bear." I fought his grasping arms off, but it was playful. I was laughing. Where had the foul mood that had clung to me all morning gone?

"We'll figure out a way to burn it off somehow, don't you think?" His arm slipped tighter around my waist, even more intimate. "I can be very resourceful."

Warmth burned across my cheeks that had nothing to do with Bansi's tea. I leaned in against him for a moment, another indulgence. He propped his chin on my shoulder and seemed content simply to hold me while I savored the tea.

My indulgence lasted as long as the tea did. Soon there were only dregs left in the bottom of the cup, and the porcelain had taken on the room's chill against my fingers, and I was ashamed of myself for being so easily bought. I snapped the cup down on the table. Bansi made a sound that might have been inquiry or surprise. I slid out from under his arm and turned about to face him. "What are you doing?"

He raised his brows, his expression blithe with an innocence I knew didn't belong there. "I thought I was enjoying a cup of tea with you to start the morning off. Perhaps I was mistaken?"

I hissed air through my teeth. I wanted to punch him, to drive a fist into his shoulder and have the satisfaction of driving him back a step. But I didn't want to touch him. I didn't dare. "The box. The music box you left at my door this morning. What the hell are you playing at?"

He blinked at me, his expression shifting from blank surprise to bewilderment. "It's a box, Ren. Just something we brought up for trade, that I thought you would like." A crease gathered between his brows. "If you don't like it, you can give it back. Or toss it out with the rotting fruit in your alley, I don't care. But it's just a box."

I bared my teeth. The warmth and the tea had kept frustration at bay, but now it whipped through me, edging closer and closer to irritation with every word that Bansi spoke. "I can't give it back to you." I spat the words out, knowing he'd take them as a sign that I liked his gift too well to part with it. But I wouldn't tell him it was Elodie who'd taken the shine to it. I wouldn't show that hand until I was sure he already knew the cards I held.

"Why?" I demanded, my voice hoarse. "Why would you give me...something like that?" How did you know what my daughter looked like? Are you just taunting me?

He heaved out a great, gusting sigh and shook his head. "It's just a box, Ren. You used to laugh when you caught me humming those songs. It made me think of you, and I thought you might like it. That's all. It's just a gift. I've given you any number of them. Why has this one got you so wound up?"

This time, it was my turn to shake my head. I didn't have an answer for him. If he didn't know about Elodie, if it was just unlikely coincidence, then I didn't know what I could say that wouldn't only make him ask more questions, press harder. "It's not my style," I muttered, the only feeble excuse I had.

Some of the lines eased from Bansi's brow. His expression relaxed. The corner of his mouth turned up in a sly smile, and he ducked his head, laughed beneath his breath. "Yes, it is. You like pretty things. I've seen the way a shiny bauble can make you stop and sigh like a maiden pining for her beau. You just get gruff about the waste to hide the fact that you covet something you can't afford for yourself."

I reared back and stared at him. Something unpleasant and uncomfortable shifted beneath my breastbone, a barb that had struck too close to home. "They are a waste," I said quietly. "What sort of an imprudent fool would take coin meant for his larder or his landlady, and spend it on a bauble that did no more than please the eyes?"

He slung an arm around my shoulder, drew me close despite my stiff resistance, and pressed a noisy kiss against my temple. "You like fine things," he said quietly, close against my ear. "And I've the coin to buy them, without missing a meal or losing my home. What sort of a wretched sod would I be if I didn't indulge you, now and then?"

I drew back, or tried to. He wouldn't let me go far, but I managed to get enough space between us that I could turn and look at him directly. "I don't expect you to buy me expensive things just because you can afford it, Ban. That's not... That's not why..."

He let me flounder for words for a moment, then smiled, broad and beatific. "I know." He took my face between his hands, pulled me in and kissed my brow. His touch lingered, warmth seeping into me from his skin on mine. He spoke without breaking the kiss, his lips grazing my forehead with every syllable. "That's why I like doing it so much."

I sighed and shut my eyes, the closest I could come to admitting defeat. "Why are you here?" I asked after a long moment in which he just held me, as though he'd be content to do that all day. "You didn't wake up at the crack of dawn just to bring me a cup of tea."

His lips quirked against my skin. I didn't have to see the shape of his mouth to know that it was a wry grin. "Didn't I?"

"You never have before."

He slid his hands up my arms, a slow caress that made me shiver against him. "Maybe I understand the value of what I have better than I used to, and I'm willing to work for it."

What I have. I shut my eyes and shivered again, more violently, though I was hardly aware of the cold anymore. He didn't have me. That he thought he did meant this had gone too far, that I'd indulged him far too long. We weren't lovers, not the way we used to be. We fucked. That was all I could give him, but I'd been too silent, letting him make his own assumptions too long.

I stepped back. Now I felt the chill in the air, and it made me shudder. Bansi watched me from beneath lowered brows. I could see the concern in him, in the way he rose up onto the balls of his feet as though he wanted to come to me but a tether held him back. I turned away from it. It was easier to keep my composure when he was at my back. I crouched and hauled a box of my half-repaired projects up onto the counter and set to work. It helped to keep my hands busy, to give them something to do other than tremble.

Long moments passed. Eventually, Bansi came around to the other side of the counter, opposite from me. I risked a brief glance at him when he wasn't looking. He had that insouciant expression again, leaning one hip casually against the edge of my countertop as though he hadn't a care in the world. When he spoke, his words were light, carefree. "Actually, I did think to convince you to come look at another house with me this morning."

My hands stilled. "Why?"

"The same reasons as yesterday."

"Your reasons were terrible yesterday."

Inexplicably, it made him smile. He shrugged as though to say, Yes, well. "Will you come or not?"

"Not." I snapped a gear out of the mechanism before me with perhaps more force than was warranted. "You told my customers to come back today, do you remember? If I'm closed again, they won't come a third time."

I expected him to pout and sulk and wheedle until he either got his way or I threw him out. Instead, he gave me a surprised look for just a moment, then shrugged and smiled and leaned across the counter toward me. "It's just as well. I'm feeling partial to the house we saw yesterday. It'd probably just be a waste of time, to go visit any others."

I risked a glance up at him from beneath my frown. "That's it? One house, and you're done with your shopping?"

"I'm a man who knows his tastes, Ren." He smiled at me. I felt like a lamb staring down the wolf's grin. "And once I want something, I must have it."

I turned away, letting him aim that unsettling smile at my back, and muttered as I fiddled with the tool, "What's got your appetite so whetted for this one, anyway? It was nice enough, but I didn't see anything to justify choosing it so quickly."

"Well." Bansi was laughing at me. I could hear it in his voice. "I find myself particularly swayed by the fond memories I've already made in it."

My hands stilled as his meaning hit me. I snapped my head around, frowning at him over my shoulder. "You mean fucking there? That's what's decided you?"

He beamed like a cat who'd just found a whole den of mice ripe for the hunting. "It's made a fairly compelling argument, I must admit."

I just stared at him, at a loss. "That is the most ridiculous reason to buy a house I've ever heard."

It didn't dim his smile one degree.

I sighed and put my work down, came around the counter and nudged him toward the door, one step after another. "Go on, then. Go buy your silly house. I've work to do. I lost a day to you yesterday and I can't afford to lose a minute more. Go!"

He went, smiling and teasing all the way. And when at last I had the door shut fast between us, I heaved a great sigh of relief and returned to my work.