“Cloverfield? This Cloverfield?” I held up my wrapper. He nodded again. “We can’t stay anywhere near him. He’s with the Merrics.”
Greer nodded; he knew that already. “He’s a calculating man, a liar, that’s for sure, and his associations with the Merrics could lead to trouble. But don’t worry, the place is empty, and we can’t camp tonight.”
“Greer, we really can’t stay there. I mean it. The people at L’Autre Bête talked about him all the time. They worship the guy.”
Greer shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they like him with all his money and pull. I’m surprised you never met him.”
“And I don’t want to.”
Greer paused, turned his head, and peered at me. He wanted to tell me something. I could see it in his eyes, but he seemed to think better on it and instead nodded.
“So we aren’t going?” I asked.
“We don’t have a lot of options right now.”
“Let’s just stay in the tent and be safe.”
Greer put his hand on my arm and looked me directly in the eyes. “We are fine.”
The magic was back and I felt completely at ease.
~*~
The small cabin was hidden between the huge trees of the forest, well concealed under the full green canopy.
Greer went first. “Come on.”
“This belongs to that Cloverfield guy?” I expected something much fancier.
“Yes. Why?”
“I thought Cloverfield would have a mansion or something.”
Greer took my hand. “He does. This is his cabin.”
I stayed back. “He might be here. We shouldn’t.”
The rain was starting slowly, but the gray sky said it would get worse… and fast.
“You trust me, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” At first, I said it as a knee-jerk reaction to the question, but after it was out there, I meant it, completely. I trusted him in every way I could. He was my Greer.
“Then trust we are safe. I wouldn’t bring you here if we weren’t.”
Greer opened the door. Directly inside was a living room and kitchen combination. A counter with chairs separated them. I didn’t see a table, so I guessed people ate at the bar. The living room had a fireplace with a wooden mantle. Greer let me go first. He closed the door and dropped his bag.
I stepped into the living room and ran my hand along the side table. Not a speck of dust. Someone took care of this place, lived here. Over the fireplace mantel were two fishing rods crossed into an x.
Greer went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Sit back, Waverly. No Cloverfield bars tonight.”
“So, how did you know about this place?”
“I have connections.” Pots and pans clanged as Greer dug under the counters. “The Merric supporters are clueless to how many times they’ve helped the Galvantry. Take Cloverfield. He is on a constant vacation.”
“So where is he now?”
“France.”
My stomach lurched, and I asked, “For Lothaire’s funeral?”
Greer shook his head. “No. He’s dating a model.”
Figures. “Is he old and gross like my uncle?”
Greer smiled, pan in his hand. “Not old, but very ugly.”
I walked past the couch, my fingertips gently touching the smooth leather. “You know, I’d live in a place like this even if I were rich. You can’t get comfortable in those big palaces. They’re all hollow on the inside, but this place is perfect.”
Greer stopped what he was doing and looked at me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He smiled and replied, “Not sure entirely.”
On the mantle was a little toy fisherman, and I picked it up and studied the toy. It had a button on the back and when I pushed it, the little fisherman cast its line and reeled it back in.
“What do you have there?” Greer left the kitchen and came over. “Wait.” Greer went to the side table and opened it, getting out a little fish. Greer put the man and the fish on the table. “Watch.” He pushed the button one more time. The man caught the fish. “It shows correct form.”
“How did you know where the fish was?”
He thought about his response before answering with “Luck, I guess.”
“Are you sure?” There was more to it. He’d been here before, and I wondered how he knew this Cloverfield guy.
The rain clinked against the roof, and Greer used it as a way to change the subject. “The reports said we could have flooding along streams and rivers. How about a fire? Easy, see? Just a button, right here.”
Something was different about Greer. He was being nice, really nice. In the kitchen, I saw potatoes in a pot and a steak in a frying pan. “Is everything all right?”
“Why?”
“No reason.” I got this awful feeling; I was an old dog about to be sent to the vet in the morning, my days numbered.
He returned to the kitchen and checked on the potatoes. I sat at the counter, watching him. “So you can cook?”
Greer flipped the steak. “You could say that.”
I watched his skill in the kitchen, and I figured it out; Greer was a chef in his real life. It made sense. He’d probably cooked for the Merrics and maybe he worked for this Cloverfield guy. He had probably been at L’Autre Bête the whole-time cooking. He’d snuck into the opera. It explained so much. That’s how he knew how to get out of L’Autre Bête. He’d known the Epps from cooking for the Libratiers. It explained why he was so disgusted at the Libratiers eating the food from the town people. It also explained his table manners. It would matter to him if he were a fancy chef. If I was right, those Cloverfield bars must have been killing him. I didn’t bother asking him. He’d deny it if I guessed right.
“Have you cooked for anyone important?”
“More important than a long-lost princess?”
“I’m not that, you know. I’m kind of a loser, really.” Geez, I thought, convincing a guy you like you’re a loser is not the best strategy. “Not a loser, sorry, not what I meant. I’m a high school graduate.” I was not helping myself.
Greer handed me silverware and a napkin. As I took them, I noticed the dirt on my
