Wolf Watch (The Madison Wolves Book 8) (2 page)

"Oh no," Lara said. "But we all live close together. We're a very tight family, and sharing dinners together is common. Tell us about GreEN."

"And we're very interested in hearing about your involvement," Elisabeth added. She hadn't taken her eyes off me the entire time we'd been talking, and her gaze was intent.

I launched into my standard spiel. It was clear they didn't need to be educated on the importance of conservation. I dare say Michaela especially could educate me in some areas. And so I talked about how GreEN sought to help educate the public.

"But your name is an acronym," Elisabeth said. "You're a network of some sort?"

"Yes," I said. "When some particular disaster strikes, we can mobilize our network of volunteers. We have a database of thousands of people we can call out."

"All here in Wisconsin?"

"Oh no, that's nationally. More locally we try to get people to engage in letter writing campaigns when important legislation is up for consideration."

"That seems very tame," Elisabeth pointed out. "Do you ever engage in more, oh, active fashions?"

"Are you asking whether we're eco terrorists?"

"Oh no," she replied quickly. "But perhaps you've chained yourself to trees or freed mink from a farm."

I'd done both of those and had the arrest records to prove it.
"Our planet is important, and sometimes civil disobedience is the only way the silent majority can convince the politicians and corporate overlords to take notice."

Oops. I usually tried to sound sane. GreEN wasn't that type of organization, and I worried I'd just given the wrong impression.

"But that isn't what GreEN is about. We're not crackpots. We just care about our planet."

"Of course you're not crackpots," Michaela said.
"We're all on the same side here."

"Exactly," I said.

"I find myself considering a donation," Lara said, "perhaps one somewhat larger than Scarlett's yesterday. I would love to know how you would spend my money, well, once it was your money. With so many organizations clamoring for donations, you can imagine I have to investigate them very carefully."

"I understand completely," I said. I spent another twenty minutes answering their questions. I'd never felt more expertly questioned, discounting that one visit with the FBI. But I hadn't done anything serious enough to warrant their
continued attention, and eventually they had come to the same conclusion.

Finally it was Michaela who said, "We've been monopolizing Zoe far too long. There are students here who require educating. We should leave her to her duties."

"Of course," Lara said. "But you'll be hearing from us, Zoe."

"I will?"

"Of course. I haven't decided yet whether I will be giving GreEN any money, and if I do, how much."

"For now," Elisabeth said, "You should put us on your mailing list." She produced a business card and handed it to me. 'Elisabeth Burns', it said. 'Burns Protection Services'. I stared at the card.

"What do you protect, Elisabeth?"

"Mostly?" asked Michaela, answering for her. "Me." She said in a light-hearted fashion, but I thought I detected an unhappy undercurrent at the same time.

"We do personal protection, like providing bodyguards, as well as home and corporate security."

After that, we shook hands again, then the group turned to walk off. They had gotten perhaps twenty yards, and I should have turned to any of the other groups of people milling around our booth.

But instead, I ran after them. "Elisabeth?"

As a group they turned around, but then Michaela whispered something, and the rest moved away as a group, leaving Elisabeth to talk to me.

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Maybe I got this wrong," I said. "I couldn't help but notice you. And I thought perhaps you were noticing me as well."

"Noticing, is it?" she asked. She smiled.

I nodded. "I was wondering if you'd let me take you to dinner tonight. There's a little vegan cafe near my apartment."

She smiled. "I don't think so."

"Oh. Um. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "Perhaps you would let
me
take
you
to dinner. But I'm pretty much the opposite of a vegan. I don't know if there is room in your life for compromise."

"Oh," I said. I looked her up and down. "No, I suppose you're not vegan at all. I imagine you're an amazing bodyguard."

"I do my best," she said. "Is your desire in spending time tied to my willingness to eat tofu?"

"Oh," I said again. "Um. No. I can compromise, but I hope that doesn't mean you're going to eat a steak in front of me. Have you ever seen an animal butchered?"

She smiled again. "Yes. So you're a staunch vegan?"

"Yes
," I replied.

"So you're opposed to, for instance, honey? Milk from a family farm? Eggs from chickens gently raised in a chicken coop?"

I looked away. "I do not choose to eat them," I finally replied. "I wouldn't lecture you if you do."

"How about fish caught from the lake? What is your proposal for dealing with the way deer would overpopulate and starve if humans didn't hunt them? If termites get into your house, would you let them destroy your home? When a mosquito bites you, do you slap it?"

She said everything gently, but her questions were uncomfortable.

"I may have killed a mosquito or two on my latest camping trip," I admitted.

"I am a carnivore, Zoe," she said. "I will not pretend to be otherwise." She paused. "The Green Room serves only organically grown foods, and they have a number of vegetarian dishes. I cannot say whether they can satisfy vegan requirements."

I was familiar with The Green Room. I was also familiar with their prices. It was a distinct step up from Carly's, the vegan restaurant I had intended. I couldn't afford The Green Room.

"My treat, Zoe," Elisabeth added, sensing my hesitation.

"I invited you," I said.

"And I declined but made a counter proposal." She smiled, and that made my decision for me.

"I would love to go to dinner with you, Elisabeth," I said. "Of course. Should I meet you there?"

"If you prefer," she replied, "but I would rather pick you up. Is 6:30 too early? The rally here is over at 4:00."

Again I hesitated.

"You can imagine that I am very protective," she explained. "I really would prefer seeing you safely to and from your home, but if that makes you uncomfortable, of course we could meet at the restaurant."

"6:30 is perfect," I said. I pulled out one of my business cards, flipped it over, and wrote down my cell number and address. "It's not much."

"I do not judge a person by the size of her home, but instead by the manner of her integrity and the size of her heart," Elisabeth replied.

She stared into my eyes for a moment. It was an intense gaze, and my heart jumped a beat or three looking up at her.

"6:30," she said. "I'll see you then, Zoe."

It was 6:29 when there was a knock at my apartment door. I was just making last minute adjustments to my appearance, and the loud knock caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.

"Already?" I asked. I checked my appearance one more time.

I didn't have much in the way of fancy clothing. I owned exactly one business suit, which I wore for the rare presentation in front of a corporate audience or the unfortunate but thankfully also rare court appearance. I owned my share of rugged clothing. But I was short on choices for dating.

So I was wearing one of my two skirts with a baby blue blouse. I was barefoot but would grab a pair of flats on the way out the door.

I glanced at the clock on the way to the door. "She's prompt."

Still, I checked the
peephole before opening the door.

"Hey," I said. "Come in." I stepped back, and Elisabeth strode into my apartment. As she stepped past me, I checked her out carefully. She was wearing grey slacks with a white shirt and an eggshell jacket. She looked good.

By the time the door was closed, she had turned to me. I looked up at her then made a split second decision. I moved closer then leaned up and kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you. I'm almost ready to go. You look nice."

"Thank you. So do you."

"I just need my shoes."

"I thought we might go for a walk afterwards," she said.

"I don't even own a pair of heels," I said. "I'll wear flats. They're comfortable unless you wanted to walk for miles."

"I thought perhaps Picnic Point," she explained. "I'll keep you safe."

"That would be lovely," I admitted.

While I retrieved my shoes from the closet, Elisabeth looked around. There wasn't much to see. It was just a small, studio apartment. But I had one wall with some of my better photographs, and when I turned around, she was looking at the photos.

"Yours?" she asked.

I stepped up next to her. "Yes."

"I have to admit. I did a little snooping."

"Oh?"

"Your photos look better this size than on a computer screen." She gestured. "Michaela would like that one. When Lara met her, she was living in Bayfield." The photo in question was of one of the caves in the Apostle Islands.

"You recognized where this was?"

"We told you earlier we kayak on Lake Superior. That cave is a common destination for us; it's a good distance from Bayfield. Michaela has a fishing spot she prefer not too far from there."

I turned to her. "That's a twelve-mile paddle. Each way."

"So far? No wonder we're tired by the time we get back." She grinned. "We're a very active group."

I eyed her up and down again. "No doubt. Is everyone in your family so... athletic?"

"I hope my size isn't intimidating," she said in reply.

"Not at all. If I were dating a man, he could be bigger than you."
I smiled. "I find you absolutely fascinating, Elisabeth."

She returned my smile. "Ready to go?"

* * * *

I was surprised to see her car: a light green Prius. I raised an eyebrow. "This doesn't strike me as a bodyguard's car."

"I'm off duty," Elisabeth replied. She handed me into my seat, which I found very gallant, and then climbed in on her side.

"I don't believe this is your car," I accused as she started the car.

"I didn't steal it," she countered with a smirk.

"You ran out and bought it to try to impress me."

She laughed. "We both know I don't need to engage in subterfuge to impress you."

"Oh, you're cocky."

"I've got a lot to be cocky about."

I had to admit, at least privately, she was right.

"Whose car is this?" I asked.

"Insurance records are in the glove compartment." She pointed then worked her way out of the parking spot.

I couldn't help myself. I had to see. I popped open the glove box, dug through it for a moment, and withdrew her proof of insurance. It had her name, of course. And for an address -- the same office park as everything else I'd researched about her.

"Huh. I guess it's yours."

"I am wounded you would believe I might stoop so low," she said. She didn't look at all wounded.

"Do you find me a joke?" I asked.

Her expression sobered. "Why would you think that?"

"I'm not a crackpot."

"Zoe, I didn't accuse you of being a crackpot. Where did this come from?"

"You're laughing at me."

"I thought we were teasing each other. I am accustomed to a great deal of banter. You should see Michaela and I going at each other."

"I bet she wins."

Elisabeth looked chagrined. "Yeah, unless I cheat."

I cocked my head. "How do you cheat in banter?"

"Good question. I don't usually realize I cheated until she calls me on it."

"Does she get even?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes she takes it out on my sister instead."

"It sounds like a lot of stress."

"No. Well, sometimes. But no. I love my sister-in-law from the bottom of my heart."

"All of you seemed really close," I observed.

"Yeah, we are."

I put the insurance card back and closed the glove box. "You're really a bodyguard?"

"Perhaps you noticed it's my name on the company letterhead," she pointed out with a smirk. "But yes, at time's I'm a bodyguard."

"For Michaela?"

"At times, yes."

"Why does a science teacher need a bodyguard?"

"Lara has enemies."

I stared at her. "Holy fuck. You're serious."

"It's not really good first date material," she replied. "But yes, I am."

I shook my head. "I've never met anyone who needed a bodyguard before." I paused. "Maybe that's not true; there have been a few times I wished I had one. But I suppose you wouldn't have been able to keep me from getting arrested."

She laughed. "Sure I could. I wouldn't have let you stick around for it. Besides, isn't getting arrested part of the goal? You don't make the press if you don't get arrested."

"True," I agreed. "Sometimes the police are very polite. Sometimes they quietly apologize. And sometimes they're assholes."

"Just how many times have you been arrested?"

I began counting. "Seventeen."

"Anything serious?"

"It's usually trespassing and sometimes extra bullshit the cops throw in just because they're mad at having to deal with us. I never, ever mouth off to the cops, although I have been known to point out they're operating as agents of their corporate overlords." Then I added sweetly, "Am I in the car with one of those overlords?"

"No." She grinned at me. "Not anymore."

"Oh?"

"I've simplified my investments."

"Investments, is it? Bodyguarding pays well."

"Inherited. Silver spoon and all that."

I cocked my head. "You say that casually."

"You can see my outrageous spending patterns by this fine automobile I drive."

I laughed. I drove a Prius, too.

"But surely you live in a mansion."

"I grew up in one. Now I live in a house that's bigger than I need, but it's just a house."

"With your sister and her diminutive wife?"

"A short walk away," she clarified.
"I live alone, although I may as well live with Lara and Michaela. I'm there more than my own place. I haven't cooked a meal in..." she paused, thinking about it. "I guess I'm not sure the last time I cooked anything fancier than toast in the morning, and I don't even do that very often."

"Is that because your cook handles the meals?"

"My aunt handles a lot of the meals -- Angel's mother."

"That's so different than how I grew up," I said. "I have an older brother, but we weren't very close to the extended family. I see everyone at Christmas, but that's about it."
I paused. "You haven't mentioned your parents."

"They're gone."

"Oh. I'm sorry. What happened?"

"You know how it is," she replied, which wasn't really an answer. "So, now you know everything about me. Tell me about yourself. Tell me something shocking."

"Oh, something shocking?" I wondered what she'd tell me if I asked for the same. "Well, I recently met this woman who I haven't stopped thinking about."

"Oh? But you're here with me?"

I laughed, but she offered a puzzled expression. "Wait. That wasn't a joke? Elisabeth..."

"Oh." She colored. "Me? I suppose it shouldn't go to my head; we only met six hours ago."

"True," I said after a moment. I certainly wasn't going to tell her I'd been stalking her.

"But maybe you're warning me of something," she went on. "Do I have to worry about you stalking me now?"

It was my turn to blush.

"I think you'd find an efficient way of dealing with me if I did."

"You're probably right. We have ways of making you disappear." She said it ominously. The thing was, I thought it was probably true.

I thought about it for a minute. "You wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Not a stalker?"

"Oh, totally a stalker," I said with a grin. "But I'm harmless. Ask anyone."

* * * *

Conversation turned lighter after that, and soon we were pulling into the restaurant parking lot.
She met me at the back of the car and took my arm. I decided I was entirely okay with that and leaned against her a little as we walked to the restaurant door. Once inside, she led me to the hostess station, where she was addressed by name.

"Ms. Burns. We have your table waiting."

"Thank you, Patty."

The hostess handed two menus to a waiting teenage girl and whispered to her, and the girl told us, "If you will follow us."
We followed her to secluded table. Elisabeth held my chair for me, and once we were seated, the girl said, "Becca will be your server tonight."

"Thank you,
Kyra," Elisabeth replied.

As soon as the girl was out of hearing range, I turned to Elisabeth. "Ms. Burns, you seem to be known here."

"I believe I am," she replied.

"Is that all you're going to say on the matter?"

"I've been here before."

"Uh huh. Spill."

She smiled. "I might be a minority investor."

I stared. "Seriously? You own the restaurant?"

"About five percent is all. Michaela and Lara each have another five percent."

"Michaela is a school teacher, but she has money to invest in restaurants?"

"Michaela's living expenses are exceedingly low, so she takes investment recommendations from her wife and her sister-in-law."

"And you suggested a restaurant? Don't most restaurants fail?"

Elisabeth gestured around. "Does this restaurant look like it's failing?"

"It's Saturday during prime dinner time. Every restaurant in town is packed right now."

"Well, this restaurant is not failing. Lara and I don't invest in businesses that are going to fail."

I scoffed. Elisabeth raised an eyebrow. "You doubt me?"

"No one has a hundred percent track record."

"Your statement is flawed. I admit. Not all of my investments have done well, but none of them have become failed businesses."

"Then you haven't been investing long enough."

Elisabeth took a sip of her water while watching me. "Zoe, we don't know each other well. I don't want to appear dismissive, but I think on this issue, my information may be better than yours."

I thought about it. "All right. How is it that you are able to do so much better than most investors?"

"I am very careful in how I invest. I only invest when I know the principal individuals involved. I review their business plan. If I think they have a good product or good service but lack financial sense, I either require they obtain it or I don't invest."

"But a restaurant?"

"There are specific reasons why the failure of restaurants is so high," she explained. "According to some studies, sixty percent fail in the first year. Eight
y percent fail inside five years. But the reasons they fail are predictable and highly manageable. It comes down to the experience of the people. The likelihood of success goes up when the owners have had significant prior experience. They need to be good people managers, and when they hire more managers, they need to do so carefully. I've already mentioned financial acumen. And then they must provide excellent customer service and quality food, and do so with incredible consistency."

She gestured around. "This is not a large restaurant. The larger a restaurant, the more challenging it is to maintain quality." Then she smiled. "It also helps that Lara has investments in other businesses, including a marketing company."