The Milfords sold what they called weekend jars of jams and jellies—small containers that would be sufficient for one or two people for a couple of days without wasting the contents of larger jars since most people didn’t want to eat from an opened container when they didn’t know who had had their utensils—or fingers—in it. At breakfast, Ineke put out jams and jellies in small bowls to avoid waste, and I would need to figure out which way was the most practical for guests coming to The Jumble. The weekend jars could be something guests took with them, whether or not they had opened the jars during their stay. If I did that, it might provide more business for the Milfords, and that would be a good thing.

“Why do we need more humans here?” Aggie asked.

She had watched me go through my list of preparations since early that morning and had become more and more unhappy the closer we got to the arrival of the three couples who would be spending a long weekend with us.

“We need paying guests,” I replied.

“I pay.”

I stopped dithering and looked at her. She reminded me of a resentful teenager, but maybe she wasn’t resentful of intruders, however temporary, as much as she wanted reassurance that she was equally valued?

“Yes, you do, and you’re a great lodger.” If we overlook the whole squooshy eyeball thing. “But I need more paying guests. In order to stay here and be the Reader and help all of you restore The Jumble as a terra indigene settlement, I need to make a living, need to make enough money to pay the bills. I can’t do that with only one lodger. Do you understand?”

“Are you going to make the other terra indigene move out of the cabins?” she asked after a moment.

“Conan and Cougar? No, Aggie. They’re helping me with the heavy work in exchange for using those cabins.”

“I meant the terra indigene who are using the meadow cabins near the kitchen garden.”

When Paige mentioned my having helpers to tend the kitchen garden, I thought she’d meant Conan and Cougar. “There are more terra indigene living in the cabins?”

Aggie nodded. “There’s a Bobcat and a pair of Coyotes for sure. I think the Owlgard took the third cabin there.” She moved this way and that, twitchy movements. “Maybe they should have told you?”

“Yes, they should have told me.” When she seemed to shrink into herself, I added, “If I’d known, I would have gone over and introduced myself and made sure those cabins were habitable.” Enough work had been done to stop further weather damage, but I hadn’t expected anyone to stay there so the furniture I’d left in those cabins had been rickety at best. Then again, maybe the Others often took over abandoned human buildings and thought wobbly chairs and tables with peeling paint or stains in the wood were normal.

That made me sad, so I pushed the thought aside until I could talk to Ilya Sanguinati. He would know if the Others in those cabins were happy with the arrangement or felt slighted in some way. And really, if anyone had felt slighted, I wouldn’t have been hearing about this from Aggie days after my new residents had moved in. I’m sure the Bobcat or the Coyotes—or even the Owls—would have expressed an opinion in a way that was unmistakable.

Which suddenly made me wonder if they had been among the terra indigene who had shown up for the story hours and had moved into the cabins to be nearby. The sites for the four guest buildings had been chosen to provide a sense of privacy—or as much privacy as you could have when each building was made up of three connected cabins—but none of the buildings were more than a quarter mile from the main house, and the renovated cabins were within sight of both the lake and the main house—or would be if the bushes and trees between the house and cabins didn’t provide a natural privacy screen.

“The humans are here,” Aggie said.

“I didn’t hear the cars.” I touched my hair, hoping all the effort I’d put in that morning to look professional hadn’t gone to waste. I could easily end up looking like Electric Shock Lady when I greeted my guests.

“Eddie just told me that Cougar moved the chain across the road to let them through. Eddie says the humans have fancy cars, but not as nice as the ones the Sanguinati drive.”

“Of course their cars aren’t as nice.”

She grinned and followed me to the front door to wait for these visitors, now more curious than tense about what kind of human would come to The Jumble.

I was curious about that too. But I can’t say I wasn’t tense.

CHAPTER 43

Aggie and Ilya

Firesday, Juin 30

Aggie flew across the lake as fast as she could. This was bad. This was very, very bad, and she was going to make sure the Sanguinati at Silence Lodge knew how very bad it was because those . . . humans . . . made her so angry.

When she reached the lodge, she perched on a railing for a moment before hopping down to the deck and shifting to her human form. Then she turned and stared at The Jumble’s beach on the other side of the lake.

“Since Miss Vicki has human guests and you look human, you might want to put some clothes on so they don’t see more than they’re used to seeing,” Ilya Sanguinati said as he stepped out of the lodge and joined her on the deck. “Not that they could see this far across the lake without binoculars, but humans often carry such things when they’re in the wild country. Or so I’ve been told.”

Aggie turned to face the vampire, whose lips were curved in a hint of a smile. “If the Crowgard peck out their eyes, they won’t see anything.”

The smile faded. “What happened?”

“They were mean to Miss Vicki. They made her cry!”

No amusement now. Ilya stared across the lake, then took a seat in one of the chairs. “Tell me.”

* * *

      • • •

Aggie and Miss Vicki watched three shiny cars drive up to the main house. At least, she thought they were cars. Miss Vicki had called them utility vehicles and said they were a good choice for camping and rougher roads. The humans got out and looked around, the females wrinkling their noses like they had smelled a wheelbarrow of poop—which they couldn’t have because Cougar hadn’t buried much poop in the flower beds at the front of the house since he had been careful not to dig up the flowers Miss Vicki had planted.

The humans were called Trina and Vaughn, and Darren and Pam-EL-la. They were staying in the main house with Miss Vicki. Hershel and Heidi were staying in the cabin next to Aggie’s.

The humans didn’t say much while Miss Vicki did the registering thing, took the payment, and told Hershel and Heidi that she would walk down to the cabin with them and help with the luggage because there wasn’t a track to the cabins wide enough to accommodate anything bigger than a donkey cart, which she didn’t have. Well, she had the cart, which was in pretty good shape—Conan had found it in the big shed with the tools—but not the donkey.

No, she hadn’t told Miss Vicki about the herd of donkeys that lived in The Jumble. There had been no reason to say anything since the donkeys weren’t terra indigene and Miss Vicki hadn’t said she wanted a donkey; she just explained to the guest humans that their cars wouldn’t fit on the track to the cabins.

They used the footpath between the main house and the cabins since that was shorter than using the track. The Heidi human carried her own carryall, but that Hershel gave the heaviest bag to Miss Vicki instead of carrying it himself. Once they reached the cabin and went inside, Miss Vicki returned to the house, intending to bring the guests a basket of fruit and treats, since Darren and Pam-EL-la had gone down to the cabin as soon as they dropped off their luggage in their suite. And Miss Vicki did bring the fruit and treats. But when she got back to the cabin, she heard the four humans talking and . . .

* * *

* * *

• • •

“And?” Ilya Sanguinati said. “What did they say?”

“They said Miss Vicki was as pathetic as they’d heard, and they were going to say so in their reviews, and The Jumble wasn’t rustic or quaint; it was decrepit and wouldn’t amount to anything—and these were the cabins she claimed were renovated when it was clear to anyone who bothered to look that she’d barely done anything at all. And then that Pam-EL-la said . . .”