Draw One In The Dark(143)

But Edward didn't notice her look. He was still staring at the picture of Saint George, wide-eyed. "Good Lord, Tom," he said. "It will put customers off their food."



"I very much doubt it," Kyrie said. "Tom has been hiding talents. He can actually cook."



"And college students will eat anything," Keith said.



"There is that," Kyrie admitted. Then she looked at Tom, who was looking at her with a little smile. When he looked like that, it was very hard not to kiss him, and she'd been trying very hard not to kiss him in public. It only gave people ideas. Besides, they were at The George. They were supposed to behave as business partners. "So, what's the symbolism, Tom?"



"Can't you tell?" he asked softly. "I thought you'd get it." Smiling, he looked around at the still empty tables. The door was closed, the Closed sign firmly in place. In a minute, Keith—who wanted to work for them part-time, at night, even while going to college—was going to go out and hang the "Grand Opening" and "Under New Management" signs out there. But for now everything was quiet.



"The pheromones that Frank laid down will take years to wear out," Tom said. "Rafiel," he looked at the policeman, "has had them analyzed, and they are very potent. It's not unusual for little beetles to lay down chemical signs that attract mates and prey from miles away. These ones might very well act on the whole country. And they're specific for shifters. We'll have shifters coming out of our ears for years to come. Chances are," he said, looking at Rafiel, "that we'll have to keep order in our own little strange community. So many occasions for people to go over the edge. And we can't afford for the more out-of-control of us to expose us all to danger. So . . ." He waved expansively toward the picture on the wall. "We get to be both the beast, and the dragon slayer. It's perfect."



"If you say so," Kyrie said.



"There's people milling around out there," Keith said.



"Those aren't people, darling," Kyrie said, turning around, and surely surprising poor Keith with the playful appellation. "That's the poet and pie lady. They just want to come and loiter all night, eating too little food." She grinned at him. "Go open the door."



"And I suppose I'd better eat something," Edward said. "I'm taking the last flight to New York." He looked at the menu. New menus, freshly laminated. "Good Lord," he said. "What are these?"



"It's old diner lingo. Tom insisted. There's a translation in front of each item."



"You really have to learn to start saying no to that boy," Edward said, smiling. "He has entirely too many crazy ideas for his own good."



"Oh, trust me," Kyrie said. "I say no enough." And had Tom's father blushed?



He looked away from her and backed, to sit at a table facing the counter. Keith was opening the door. Behind the counter, Tom had put his—blue, emblazoned in gold—apron on. Yesterday he'd spent the whole day scrubbing the counter and kitchen area till it glimmered. And they'd interviewed and hired the staff. Anthony. And a couple of the day girls. And Keith, and half a dozen other new faces.



They, themselves, would have to work twelve hours or more a day, everyday. It didn't matter. That it was their place made all the difference.



Keith was writing stuff on the glass window. Most of it incomprehensible to the normal—or even abnormal—mind because it was taken from Tom's research of old diner lingo. There was for instance "Moo with Haystacks," which she thought was supposed to be burger and fries, for $5. She was going to have a talk with Keith and get him to write stuff everyone understood.



But for now, it was the first night, and she didn't mind if only the regulars came in.



Edward looked up from his menu. "I think I'll try the hash," he said.



"Really?" Kyrie asked.



"Really. I haven't had it in years, and since my own son is cooking, the chances are low he'll poison me. They're there, but low."



"All right," Kyrie said, and glanced in the menu to see the fancy name that Tom wanted hash called. Getting back to the counter, she looked over it at Tom.



He'd tied his hair back and tied a scarf over it, pirate style, to keep hair from the grill. Which just meant that he wasn't in the spirit of cooking in a diner yet. And he smiled at her, which made all thoughts flee her mind for a while.



It took her a few seconds to remember Edward's order, and to relay it in the new-menu-speak. "Gentleman will take a chance," she told Tom.