Two birds, one stone.
“I would like to help.” At Pam’s blank look, Galmadriel gestured toward the sign. A slight upward twitch of one brow signaled Pam’s surprise.
“Do you have any experience?”
“Not as such, but I have served mankind for thousands of years,” Galmadriel’s wry smile was an attempt to cover the bitterness she felt at being rejected from her home, “and look where it has gotten me.”
Lips twitching and head tilted, Pam assessed Galmadirel who clasped her hands tightly together to stop them from trembling. “I still don’t think you’ve told us your name.”
“Galmadriel.”
Before she could stop herself, Pam asked, “Your parents lose a bet with the naming fairies?”
Where does she think I’m from? Galmadriel thought indignantly, Neverland? “There are no fairies in…” It took a moment for the sarcasm to register, “Funny.”
“You got a nickname? Something a little less…” Pam flapped a hand and Galmadriel thought she was trying hard not to say the word ‘weird’.
Nickname? It took a few seconds for Galmadriel’s mind to supply the concept before racing through several possibilities. Gallie...Gaddie? Ugh, no. Madriel. Worse. Addie…Maddie? No. No. No.
“Adriel. You can call me Adriel.” If she was going to be stuck with a new human life, she might as well have a new name to go along with it. Yes, Adriel would do nicely, and she made a mental note to think of herself that way from now on.
Years behind a counter selling pastries had turned Pam into a shrewd judge of character. One who knew Adriel had chosen her new name right on the spot. For her part, Adriel did her best to look like someone intrinsically honest and capable who was reeling from some recent calamity. Because that is exactly who she was. You know—minus the huge secret about her past. Oh, and the possibility of following in the footsteps of other fallen angels and turning evil.
“So which is it? Man, family, or the law?”
“Pardon?” Adriel wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
Pam sighed “I can see you’re in trouble, probably on the run, and if I take you on, I need to know what kind of trouble and how long before it comes knocking on my door.”
“I am quite alone in this world and have broken no laws here. You will not have any trouble from me.” Her words were nothing more than the truth. Adriel met Pam’s questioning gaze with a level look, then waited for judgment. As close as she tried to keep her emotions, Pam’s face betrayed them. She wanted to believe—Adriel could see that—but there was still a hint of skepticism.
Pam took her time answering.
“Fine, I’ll give you a shot. I just need you to fill out some employment forms.”
Employment forms. Adriel rummaged around in her memory for the meaning. When she found it, her stomach dropped. “Employment forms?” She repeated in order to buy some time to figure out how she would deal with her lack of verifiable identity. Nothing came to mind as Hamlin skillfully maneuvered the converted delivery van down a narrow alley running behind a series of connected buildings. He parked the truck, shot Adriel an encouraging look over his shoulder, and disappeared through a gray door.
“Come inside,” Threading her way past wheeled racks, Pam detoured into her cluttered office to retrieve a thin folder from a full to bulging file cabinet. Calling out a greeting to someone named Wiletta, Pam gestured for Ariel to take a seat at a tile-topped bistro table positioned near the pastry case.
The first thing that hit Adriel was the sweet aromas of sugar and yeast. Her gut churned out a response. Whatever went with that intoxicating scent, she wanted to wrap herself up in it and wallow.
Pam slapped the folder down on the mottled-blue Formica and took a seat. “I’ll need to ask you a few questions about….” Then she noticed Adriel, arms folded across her middle to ease the aching emptiness, eying the case with a lascivious stare.
“Have you eaten today?” Pam’s curiosity increased by the minute.
“No,” Adriel admitted while the gnawing feeling grew more intense, and a strange growling noise erupted from her belly. She looked down in consternation before turning her flaming face away from Pam’s amused stare.
Bustling back behind the counter, Pam pulled a loaf of crusty bread from some hidden area, cut a generous slice, and slathered it with butter. A handful of grapes and some slices of cheese joined the plated bread on a small tray, which she carried back to the table after adding two coffee mugs and a pot of decaf.
Pushing the plate across, she poured two cups from the steaming pot. Though it was not the first time Adriel had smelled the enticing aroma of brewed coffee, it was the first time she had ever connected the sense of scent to hunger—or to a desire to gulp down copious amounts of the dark brew.
She hesitated even though the food called to her like a siren to a sailor.
“My pockets are empty.”
Pam merely pointed to the plate and barked out a command, “Eat.” Fierce of face, she expected compliance.
After the first tentative bite, Adriel closed her eyes to better savor her initial experience with the sense of taste. This was simple fare and yet, the lightly salted butter melted on her tongue to perfectly compliment the textures of the aromatic bread—chewy, crisp crust around a pillowy, moist interior. Next, she sampled a bit of the cheese and found it pungent with complex layers of sharpness. When the first grape burst sweetly between her teeth, she nearly cried from the basic pleasure of eating the tart fruit. Her concentration narrowed to this single act, and she quickly demolished the contents of the plate.
“Feel better?” Pam asked with a raised eyebrow and an indulgent twinkle in her eye, after watching her prospective new employee mop up the last remaining bread crumbs with a fingertip and pop them into her mouth.
“Yes, thank you.” The words seemed inadequate. Food
