So she didn't know what to make of Ronan offering her and Mabel a place to sleep, or the Shifters surging across town to get Mabel out of danger. She didn't know anything about Shifters or what drove them--or what they'd expect from her in return.
She could only do what she'd done all her life--sit tight, scope out the lay of the land, and decide what to do from there. Her eyes remained open as she thought over all this, but Mabel soon dropped off into innocent sleep, emitting faint, peaceful snores.
*** *** ***
Elizabeth left her room in the morning to the smell of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs. Cherie was across the hall, leaning against the closed door of the one bathroom.
"Come on, Scott, does anyone else get to use the bathroom today?"
Scott's voice roared back over running water. "I'm in the shower!"
"You've been in the shower for half an hour. We have guests, you big idiot."
"I didn't ask them here!"
Cherie saw Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. "He's in Transition. It's like he can't get himself clean enough, as if that's going to make females fall all over him. There aren't enough female Shifters in this Shiftertown anyway--he won't have a chance to mate for years yet."
"Transition?"
"From cub to adult," Cherie said. "I hope I'm not this insensitive when it's my turn." She slapped her palm to the door. "Scott, would you quit hogging the bathroom?"
"Go next door!" he shouted.
"Males." Cherie rolled her eyes again. She was pretty, with the deep, startling beauty that Rebecca had, hers not as fully developed yet. Cherie looked about twenty in human years, only a little younger than Mabel, but apparently, like Connor, she was still considered a cub.
"Probably best you have breakfast first," Cherie said. "If there's any hot water left when he's done, you and your sister can have dibs on the bathroom."
"Whatever works," Elizabeth said, shrugging. You needed to establish territory fast in a foster home, but you also had to show that you were willing to be flexible with those who didn't fight you. Besides, Elizabeth would be home soon, in her own bathroom.
She went down the stairs. This was an old bungalow, likely built in the 1920s or 30s, laid out in a square with the staircase in the middle. It was pretty big, as far as bungalows went, to have four bedrooms and bath upstairs, a large kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs.
Elizabeth walked into the kitchen to find Rebecca setting seven places at the table and Ronan hunched over the stove in jeans and black T-shirt, cooking what had to be five packages of bacon and four cartons of eggs. An entire loaf of bread, toasted, was piled on a platter, and four more slices popped out of the toaster as she walked in.
Ronan glanced up at her and gave her a wide smile, full of energy. "I do a mean biscuits-and-gravy, but I didn't have time this morning. Scrambled okay with you?"
"Fine."
Rebecca was giving Elizabeth a critical look. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
"Not really."
"Can't blame you."
Rebecca was tall and leggy, but large, nothing willowy about her. She wore jeans and a sleeveless top and had pulled her curly hair into a ponytail. Like Ronan, she had a restless vitality, one that said she might wear human clothes and set the table with matching silverware, but she'd rather be out running through the woods as her bear.
"Sit down, Elizabeth," Ronan said. "We'll fatten you up."
He piled the rest of the bacon and eggs on another platter and carried it and the toast to the table. Elizabeth stared at the mounds of food heading her way.
"A slice of toast is fine with me," she said.
"Best thing for shock is a hearty meal." Ronan stuck his spatula under the eggs and piled a load on her plate. "I've got some roasted red pepper salsa if that's your thing, or good old-fashioned salt and pepper. Butter and jam for the bread, and best of all, honey. Bears like their honey."
Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to laugh or keep it to herself. She settled for a polite thank you. Ronan turned away. "Any time, Lizzie-girl."
Cherie and Olaf appeared as though by magic as Ronan started ladling out the food. Mabel waltzed in a moment later, and Rebecca poured coffee. Mabel sucked down her coffee, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. Mabel had never been much of an alcohol drinker, thank God, but she worshipped coffee.
"Scott's still in the shower," Cherie said, in universal female derision for males who irritated them.
"I'll talk to him," Ronan said. "Let him be, Cherie. The Transition is hard."
"I'm still getting over mine." Rebecca sat down and shoveled as much food onto her plate as Ronan did onto his. No dieting in this house. "And with more and more males mate-claiming in this Shiftertown, the pickings are getting slim."
"Don't complain, woman," Ronan said. "There's four males for every female around here. It's me, Scott, and Olaf that will be going mateless. You can always hit on Ellison. He's a party animal."
Rebecca snorted. "He's a Lupine who's too full of himself."
Ronan shrugged. "Well, if you're going to be picky."
"What about Spike?" Mabel asked. She scooped up eggs hungrily. "He's cute. All those tatts. And then Connor. Mmm."
"Connor's a cub," Cherie said, wrinkling her nose. "And a Feline. And a Morrissey. And did I mention a Feline?"
"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked as she ate. "A Feline?"
"Means he turns into a wildcat," Cherie answered. "His whole family does. Ellison is a Lupine, a wolf. Wolves are all conceited--think they're noble creatures or something. We're bears, which of course are the best Shifters." She chortled.
"Cool," Mabel said. "Can I see you turn into a bear?"
"No shifting at the table," Ronan growled. "We have company, and I'm not cleaning up the mess."
Cherie winked at Mabel. "Later."
They were going to be BFFs any second, Elizabeth knew it. "We might not have time to do much visiting, Mabel," she said, chewing on thick Texas toast which did taste good with butter and honey. "I have to get back to the store and clean it up before we open. I'm going to need your help. We open at eleven, and it's already eight, so we need to get a move on."
She could only do what she'd done all her life--sit tight, scope out the lay of the land, and decide what to do from there. Her eyes remained open as she thought over all this, but Mabel soon dropped off into innocent sleep, emitting faint, peaceful snores.
*** *** ***
Elizabeth left her room in the morning to the smell of coffee and bacon wafting up the stairs. Cherie was across the hall, leaning against the closed door of the one bathroom.
"Come on, Scott, does anyone else get to use the bathroom today?"
Scott's voice roared back over running water. "I'm in the shower!"
"You've been in the shower for half an hour. We have guests, you big idiot."
"I didn't ask them here!"
Cherie saw Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. "He's in Transition. It's like he can't get himself clean enough, as if that's going to make females fall all over him. There aren't enough female Shifters in this Shiftertown anyway--he won't have a chance to mate for years yet."
"Transition?"
"From cub to adult," Cherie said. "I hope I'm not this insensitive when it's my turn." She slapped her palm to the door. "Scott, would you quit hogging the bathroom?"
"Go next door!" he shouted.
"Males." Cherie rolled her eyes again. She was pretty, with the deep, startling beauty that Rebecca had, hers not as fully developed yet. Cherie looked about twenty in human years, only a little younger than Mabel, but apparently, like Connor, she was still considered a cub.
"Probably best you have breakfast first," Cherie said. "If there's any hot water left when he's done, you and your sister can have dibs on the bathroom."
"Whatever works," Elizabeth said, shrugging. You needed to establish territory fast in a foster home, but you also had to show that you were willing to be flexible with those who didn't fight you. Besides, Elizabeth would be home soon, in her own bathroom.
She went down the stairs. This was an old bungalow, likely built in the 1920s or 30s, laid out in a square with the staircase in the middle. It was pretty big, as far as bungalows went, to have four bedrooms and bath upstairs, a large kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs.
Elizabeth walked into the kitchen to find Rebecca setting seven places at the table and Ronan hunched over the stove in jeans and black T-shirt, cooking what had to be five packages of bacon and four cartons of eggs. An entire loaf of bread, toasted, was piled on a platter, and four more slices popped out of the toaster as she walked in.
Ronan glanced up at her and gave her a wide smile, full of energy. "I do a mean biscuits-and-gravy, but I didn't have time this morning. Scrambled okay with you?"
"Fine."
Rebecca was giving Elizabeth a critical look. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
"Not really."
"Can't blame you."
Rebecca was tall and leggy, but large, nothing willowy about her. She wore jeans and a sleeveless top and had pulled her curly hair into a ponytail. Like Ronan, she had a restless vitality, one that said she might wear human clothes and set the table with matching silverware, but she'd rather be out running through the woods as her bear.
"Sit down, Elizabeth," Ronan said. "We'll fatten you up."
He piled the rest of the bacon and eggs on another platter and carried it and the toast to the table. Elizabeth stared at the mounds of food heading her way.
"A slice of toast is fine with me," she said.
"Best thing for shock is a hearty meal." Ronan stuck his spatula under the eggs and piled a load on her plate. "I've got some roasted red pepper salsa if that's your thing, or good old-fashioned salt and pepper. Butter and jam for the bread, and best of all, honey. Bears like their honey."
Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to laugh or keep it to herself. She settled for a polite thank you. Ronan turned away. "Any time, Lizzie-girl."
Cherie and Olaf appeared as though by magic as Ronan started ladling out the food. Mabel waltzed in a moment later, and Rebecca poured coffee. Mabel sucked down her coffee, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment. Mabel had never been much of an alcohol drinker, thank God, but she worshipped coffee.
"Scott's still in the shower," Cherie said, in universal female derision for males who irritated them.
"I'll talk to him," Ronan said. "Let him be, Cherie. The Transition is hard."
"I'm still getting over mine." Rebecca sat down and shoveled as much food onto her plate as Ronan did onto his. No dieting in this house. "And with more and more males mate-claiming in this Shiftertown, the pickings are getting slim."
"Don't complain, woman," Ronan said. "There's four males for every female around here. It's me, Scott, and Olaf that will be going mateless. You can always hit on Ellison. He's a party animal."
Rebecca snorted. "He's a Lupine who's too full of himself."
Ronan shrugged. "Well, if you're going to be picky."
"What about Spike?" Mabel asked. She scooped up eggs hungrily. "He's cute. All those tatts. And then Connor. Mmm."
"Connor's a cub," Cherie said, wrinkling her nose. "And a Feline. And a Morrissey. And did I mention a Feline?"
"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked as she ate. "A Feline?"
"Means he turns into a wildcat," Cherie answered. "His whole family does. Ellison is a Lupine, a wolf. Wolves are all conceited--think they're noble creatures or something. We're bears, which of course are the best Shifters." She chortled.
"Cool," Mabel said. "Can I see you turn into a bear?"
"No shifting at the table," Ronan growled. "We have company, and I'm not cleaning up the mess."
Cherie winked at Mabel. "Later."
They were going to be BFFs any second, Elizabeth knew it. "We might not have time to do much visiting, Mabel," she said, chewing on thick Texas toast which did taste good with butter and honey. "I have to get back to the store and clean it up before we open. I'm going to need your help. We open at eleven, and it's already eight, so we need to get a move on."
