CHAPTER II - THE SUNSHINE CAFE, PART 2

A snort escaped from the old man's nose. Then, he broke into a polite giggle. "How pleasant, that woman."

"That's our Mrs. Abigail." Lucille massaged her temples, taking a deep breath in. “She is very pleasant.” The young woman then played around with one of her hair strands, twirling it in a hypnotic fashion. “Now, sire. I’ve wanted to discuss something with you. Something that doesn't require his big ears listening to.”

“How curious, Ms. Styron.” The old man raised his left eyebrow, which showed the deep wrinkles of his forehead. “But as I said before, do not besmirch people behind their back, especially family.”

“As I was saying,” Lucille continued, without missing a beat. “I’ve thought about writing a new article for the paper. It’s an idea I’ve had for a while, but I think it would make for a good one.”

“Go on.”

Lucille’s eyes shone like diamonds, which betrayed her excitement.. She coughed briefly and pulled out a newspaper from one of the stands in the café, as if she’d practiced it for a while. It was the Dieudonne Debacle, one of the country’s most popular magazines.

Mr. Pinkerton raised an eyebrow and winced, “The Debacle? Come now, surely there are better magazines to get out of those."

"Oh please, I'm just helping the competition a little." Lucille scoffed, "You know you should try hiring more of those boys in the western slums, they’d be happy to work for a dime to give paper."

“That’d be the responsibility of Mr. Clark,” The old man shrugged. He then took out a cigar from his jacket. He lit it up, stuck it into his mouth, and puffed a cloud of smoke. "Besides, I’d prefer if those boys actually went to school rather than work as chimney cleaners or for the paper. Anyways, I don’t have all day you know, I need to be back by the first bell. You know how Mr. Clark is."

“Right…” Lucille looked down.

This issue of the Debacle was a day old. The headline was bold, “GRAND ARTIFICER EXPEDITION TO EXPLORE THE GREAT RUINS”. The cheap paper and ink depicted the image of a landscape in monochrome glory, the isolated plateaus and ruined stone walls dotted around. At the center of the image was a large group of people, mostly men, all wearing a distinctive and outlandish uniform: a mix of the upper repertoire of fashion and wide knickerbockers.

“Ah, the Guildsmen.” His eyes dilated, his husky voice weakening. “Wait just one moment… Most of those men — they’re Estresians!” He started shaking. “I need to look away for a moment, Lucille.”

“Are you alright, sire?”

The old man took a deep inhale… and a deep exhale.

“Just wait for a little longer, I want to show you something.”

Lucille pointed to one of the people hidden away in the upper left of the group. She stood out from the crowd, a woman wearing round glasses and a one-in-a-million smile. She resembled the young woman pointing at her, though she seemed to have a friendlier disposition.

She leaned forwards, a proud look on her face — her voice trembling with excitement. “Look! She’s in the team! She’s made it! Can you see it, sire?”

“Is that… that’s Bell, isn’t it?” His eyes widened and his voice began to trail.

“Yes!”

The old man was practically petrified, his face was ghastly pale. “She’s… I thought she was… Oh Great Sage of the West. May you have mercy on my soul.” He puffed out another cloud of smoke. This one caused Lucille to cough from that strong acrid smell.

“Does your father know?”

“No.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “I’d rather not deal with that. I may be a friend to your father, but I'm not your uncle.”

“Fair enough.”

Lucille briefly went over the lines of text, which detailed which guilds would be participating in the expedition. Around thirty guilds or so would be participating in an expedition to a recently discovered ruin. The Loreinstad Guild, the one leading the expedition, was front and center in the article. However, a small tangent by the bottom of the article included the participation of two foreign guilds from Velsor and Ryncheol — the Abbelind Guild and the Yuvrel Guild.

“I’m sure she was chosen for one of the teams.” Lucille rubbed her nose, feeling the weight of Mr. Pinkerton’s unrelenting stare. “I suppose I could visit… though, for now, I’ll leave her to it.”

"Which means..." Mr. Pinkerton’s eyes widened farther. “No… Ms. Styron, I forbid you to go there.”

“Huh? I haven’t said what I wanted to say yet.”

“I can tell from that drool on your mouth. You’re hungry for adventure.”

“What drool?” Lucille touched her mouth, suddenly noticing a bead of saliva dripping from her mouth. “When was this happening?”

“I don’t know. Long enough for me to notice, Ms. Styron.”

“All I’m saying is that you have to think about this clearly.” Mr. Pinkerton shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Think of your parents, think of your mother. Think of what they might think of when, all of a sudden, their daughter disappears. I am also sure that everyone knows that you’re Victor Venn, by the way.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“What gave it away?”

“Only a woman can write such piercing articles for me to get death threats, Lucille!” Mr. Pinkerton cried out. He then sighed. “That foolhardy nature, that gets kids killed you know. That is something that not every school teaches. And certainly, not something that you would know.”

“Alright, you’ve got me.” She sighed, raising her arms in defeat. “I’m still holding out hope for her, you know.“

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” A cheery voice chimed in. Mrs. Abigail stepped in with a tray holding two cups. A plume of steam rose into the stuffy air. “Here’s your drink.”

She then bowed.

“Thank you, madam.” Mr. Pinkerton smiled as he sipped his tea. “I’ll be sure to visit this cafe in the near future.” He then took out his cigar and puffed out another cloud of smoke. Mrs. Abigail suddenly rushed back towards her guests, her face suddenly frowning.

“Mister, I’m going to have to ask you to throw away that cigar.”

“Why.”

“Smoking is bad for your health, you bellend.” She hit the old man’s head lightly with her finger. “I thought old men like you would know that.”

She gestured towards the door, “Just smoke outside if you won’t listen. My son does not like the smoke.”

The old man stood up and left the cafe.

“Alright Mrs. Abigail, how much do I have to pay?”

“Don’t fret about that, dearie.” The woman smiled. “You’ve done a lot for me, both you and your sister. About the price? That would be a tenner.”

***

After a few minutes, Mr. Pinkerton went back into the cafe. Lucille eyed him with a bit of concern and worry. She knew that her plan had failed, but she wondered if she could still convince him further. That would come later though, she thought. She wanted to have her morning cup. It just needed one more finishing touch, two cubes of sugar, which she stirred until the cubes disappeared into the brown abyss.

The young woman sipped on her cup of coffee. Her face immediately puckered, eyes widening in shock — it was boiling hot. She instantly jerked her tongue back and nearly spat the bitter liquid out her mouth, barely suppressing a swear. Mr. Pinkerton shot a questioning look. Noticing it, she quickly swallowed the coffee, an uncomfortable lukewarm feeling spreading inside her body.

"Pardon me, I think I burned my tongue," She muttered under her breath, reaching for a nearby cup of water. She then flapped her left hand on her mouth, gasping. "Damn... "

The old man laughed cautiously. “Don’t get careless now,” he said, caressing a scar by his throat. “A young lady’s tongue must not be sullied with such foul language. You might remain a spinster for the rest of your life, you know?”

Lucille shot a glare at the old man, “You know how I feel about that topic.” She set down her cup of coffee, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden table. “I’m not sure if I want to settle down, sire.”

Mr. Pinkerton then crossed his arms, “Surely you would’ve had your eye on someone. Though, that part is strictly out of my purview.”

“It’s not exactly my choice,” Lucille crossed her arms, letting out a sigh. “It’s what most girls my age are doing, right? As much as I want to stay single, my parents. Rather, my father has been eyeing this boy from Havendour.”

“I did not know that your father liked little boys.”

Mr. Pinkerton let out a hearty howl of laughter, pounding the floor with his cane.

“Moving on!” Lucille snapped, her face stayed mostly stoic, except a small smile that tried to escape her strong grip.

“Pardon my sick sense of humor Ms. Styron. I know I said that you shouldn’t besmirch someone behind their back, but he won’t mind. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“He is not a lucky guy. I’ll make sure he regrets messing with me.”

“Oh, but you do carry yourself in such a graceful way.” Mr. Pinkerton slipped a small chuckle out of his mouth, before sipping his chamomile tea with his pinky out.

“Enough with the flattery.” Her fair skin blushed, “I certainly am not my sister.”

“Of course, you aren’t. But let’s just say that there are many in this town who would die for a woman like you. Intelligent, diligent, honest, and resourceful. There’s many who would want you as a mistress. I might even make you my mistress!” Mr. Pinkerton sighed, sipping his cup of coffee. Then, he shook his head. “I didn’t mean it that way, I was talking about the oth—”

“It’s fine.” Lucille blankly stared, taking another sip from her cup. “I’m not mistress material. If I was, then your staff would be terrified of me. By the way, don’t you have a mistress already?” Lucille smiled deviously, “Your wife?”

Mr. Pinkerton immediately froze. Then, he nervously laughed. "How could I have forgotten? What would I have said when she sees you and I tell her you're my new mistress? Oh, the humanity!”

Lucille snorted, “Never do that.”

But just as the humor settled between them, Lucille’s throat suddenly tightened, and she coughed hard. Her eyes widened as she struggled to regain her composure, the remnants of the bitter coffee and her stifled laughter mingling awkwardly in her chest.

Then the dam breaks. Lucille coughed. And she coughed hard. A small bead of a tear went out of her eye.

"Ms. Styron, are you alright?" The old man stopped laughing and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Pardon, I'm still weak," The young woman turned her head, “I think I need to take a breather.”

“You shouldn’t exert yourself then, Ms. Styron.”

“I’m going to have to go now,” Lucille covered her mouth. “It was nice catching up with you, sire. But we both have things that we need to do”

“No, I don’t think you shoul—”

But before he could grab her arm and stop her from leaving, Lucille jumped out of her seat and burst out through the cafe's front door. He then tried to stand up from his seat but he popped a joint. He howled in pain, bringing the attention of the short woman holding a tray of muffins.

“Did little Lucy leave the cafe?” Mrs. Abigail sighed, her voice laced with concern. “I was going to give her some muffins.”

“Could you help me, please?” Mr. Pinkerton cried in pain.

“They were blueberries too, her favorite.”

Then, she turned towards the writhing old man, who had mouth wide open and a pained expression in his eyes.

“Are you alright, mister?” Mrs. Abigail asked, raising an eyebrow while balancing the tray precariously.

“Fine, fine!” he stammered, wincing as he rubbed his back. “Just a minor calamity. Ooh…”

She set the tray down, clearly unconvinced. “You’re going to end up on the floor.”

“Only if I try to chase after that whirlwind of a young lady,” he grumbled, limping just in time to see Lucille darting down the path back towards the bridge, her raven hair whipping behind her like a banner.

“Though I suspect that may be worth the risk.”

He tried standing up again, but this time his cane slipped right in front of him. He collapsed face first into the floor.

“Call a doctor, please.” Mr. Pinkerton muttered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go to work today…”