Page 38 of Song of Lorelei

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Page 38 of Song of Lorelei

Aersila climbed back up onto the gunwale and twisted her torso so she could peer at him over her shoulder. “Nireed must trust you and the Shorewalker a great deal to share what she has about our family and our people. I don’t like it, but this is her path. I must let her see it through.” The siren touched her fingertips to her chin and lowered her arm toward him. Then she flipped off the side and dove into the sea below with hardly a splash.

Her mermaid compatriots silently followed, surprised looks on all their faces.

Killian exhaled loudly, slumping back against the crates. He was a little surprised, too, at how smoothly the conversation had gone. How in the hell was dealing with vicious, people-eating merfolk easier than dealing with his ex-girlfriend? The lengths that woman went to stir trouble—using family ties to insinuate herself into Lorelei’s department. One wrong move, and they were getting a restraining order. Director Fucking Phil wouldn’t be able to ignore that.

Slipping his headset over his ears, he turned his mic back on and told McAdams he could restart the engines. The helmsman’s voice crackled through. “Captain, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, shakily running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “That went really well. They won’t be bothering us anymore. We came to an understanding.”

There was a pause, punctuated by the sound of Dawn Chaser’s engines rumbling back to life. “I can’t figure out if you’re crazy or brave, Quinn.”

Killian let the comment hang unanswered as he heaved the crates into the ocean.

Chapter Twenty

LORELEI

Three weeks of museum prep passed by in a whirlwind.

Except for the occasional snide comment from Carrie, there wasn’t enough time to bicker and trade cutting remarks with each other. The one thing Carrie was more committed to than taunting Lorelei, thankfully, was her job. They barely kept their heads above water as the finish line raced to meet them. But they were ready. Or as close to it as they were going to be. As long as they put on a good front for patrons—and they would—no one would know how frantic and rushed things felt behind the scenes.

Ticketing staff and docents were scheduled and rehearsed. Flyers were posted across town, in any street corner or business entryway claiming foot traffic, and mailings to research center donors and local schools were sent. The exhibits had been ready for a while and Lorelei was fine tuning her opening remarks. She’d likely fiddle with the language right up until opening day and practice her delivery every night in the bathroom mirror. Nothing like staring at herself to beat out the worst of her public speaking anxiety.

One thing Lorelei learned from Carrie in the past few weeks, just by watching her take meetings with donors and influential community leaders, was the art of faking it until you make it. Although, the seasoned advertising professional would probably scoff at the phrasing. Fake it? Carrie Prior did no such thing.

While Lorelei had come a long way since last month’s breakdown, she could learn a thing or two from Carrie’s professional confidence and poise. Styled hair, a full face of make-up, and a bright smile went a long way. And as much as Lorelei thought Carrie was a bitch outside of work, that woman knew how to wield 1,000-watt charm like a weapon. Donors and potential patrons gobbled up everything she said and made generous promises as if she, too, had been gifted with siren song.

On the evening of the soft opening with family and friends, Jackie Gaten from the Haven Cove Daily, would arrive an hour early for a private tour of the museum. She planned to do a feature piece on the Haven Cove Museum of Oceanic Discovery that would run in the Sunday paper, along with a profile piece on Lorelei as the first museum director.

Waiting for the reporter, Lorelei hovered near the museum foyer, keeping an eye on the entrance and another on Carrie as she drifted from exhibit to exhibit, refamiliarizing herself with the layout and displayed information. She’d also be interviewed. Then Phil. Thankfully, the research center director wouldn’t drop by until just before the event began. The past three weeks had done nothing to dull Lorelei’s desire to strangle the man.

Pausing in front of a display detailing the sirens’ dietary range, which was based on observations of Nireed, Carrie folded her arms across her chest. “Why the hell do mermaids love potted meat so much?”

“‘Cause it tastes like people,” Lorelei mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

Lorelei bit her tongue, a smirk fighting for dominance.

With Jackie due any minute, she had to be on her best behavior. Carrie had just begun pestering her for an answer, when the reporter strode up to the door, fluffy cloud of hair bouncing up and down in time with her step.

Plastering a smile on her face, Lorelei ignored Carrie and met Jackie at the door. She held out her hand, but the petite woman surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. Acquaintanceship in small towns demanded more than a stiff handshake. Jackie pulled away to get a view of the room. “Wow, this is really something, Lorelei. The design’s more on par with what you’d see in a big city, not little ol’ Haven Cove.”

Money was no object. The museum had been almost wholly funded by the mermaid research. Once Lorelei knew just how big her budget would really be, she spent weeks researching her favorite museum exhibit designs, redesigning her exhibits in SketchUp, and contacting the manufacturers who could bring her new, revamped vision to life.

“Ah, well, you know HCMRC. We don’t do anything in half-measures,” Lorelei joked lightly. “Come on. I’ll walk you through each of the exhibits. Give you the run-down.”

Jackie followed Lorelei about the museum, furiously scribbling notes in her notepad, periodically asking questions. At the end of the tour, the reporter withdrew a professional-grade camera from the bag slung across her hip and took shots of the exhibits and a few ones of Lorelei posed in front of a mermaid display case. Then interviewed her for the professional profile piece.

Judging by Jackie’s focus on her accomplishments, young age, and a quip about nominations for 30 under 30 lists, it was going to be a glowing article. But more than that, it was affirmation that Lorelei, for all the bumps it took to get here, and all the career ladder rungs she skipped past, she was the real deal and worthy of notice.

Take that imposter syndrome.

She would have to call her mentor Susan Lennard after the event to let her know how it went. She would be proud. And so would Mom, if only she were alive to see this.

Blinking to clear the mist from her eyes, Lorelei waved Carrie over so Jackie could get more quotes for her article. With just fifteen minutes until the event started, she probably should have emailed Phil, too, to let him know to come down, but she could honestly have cared less whether he made it into the article. It was petty, but he also deserved it for being a dick to Nireed.

At 7:00 p.m. the friends and family of select Haven Cove Marine Research Center staff, as well as prominent community leaders, began filing in through the front door, paired up with Lorelei’s colleagues. With a smile pinned to her face, Lorelei welcomed everyone as they came in, while anxiously gauging their reactions. Just over 200 guests, including the town mayor and his family.




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