Heart Search Read Free Page B

storage rooms. Everyone does. That’s what makes the party unique.”
    “Ah.” He glanced at the holosphere he’d been studying.
    “Life isn’t just about business,” Jasmine said. “It’s about love and Family, too.”
    “I have enough Family.” And he didn’t believe in love.
    Jasmine stared at him from under lowered brows but said nothing to refute that. He figured her Family had sayings about love as much as brooding, and he didn’t want to hear them.
    But again she tapped the Salvage Ball card. “And you should go to this one because more than just FirstFamily nobles will be there. This one could be fun. Go. Act like Laev instead of GreatLord T’Hawthorn.” She offered him a sunny smile. “I know you can do it.” Then she said, “I’ll work on that report now.” She actually went into her office and shut the door behind her.
    He rubbed the cheap papyrus of the card. At the party there would be items a household didn’t want . . .
    Could Nivea have taken Hawthorn property there? She might have, to hurt him and the Hawthorns. Just give away their heirlooms.
    She might have hated him enough to do that by the time she’d died. That hurt, but it was his own fault that he hadn’t worked at his marriage after the first few years. He cared for Jasmine—as a younger sister or a daughter—more than he had for Nivea after his infatuation had worn off.
    His chest was tight. The girl made him feel. More, she made him understand his current circumstances. He was lonely. But he didn’t want a Fam. And he didn’t trust his judgement in choosing another woman to be his wife again.
    Even if he ever found his HeartMate.
     
     
    C amellia Darjeeling stood behind the counter of her tearoom, surveying it for perfection, and grinned. Finally, finally, the dream she’d striven for was coming true. This was her second teahouse. A tearoom, shop, and gathering place.
    It was only one cozy room, but it was full of customers. The atmosphere was almost hushed, the three servers unhurried.
    She moved into the room, walked toward a table to talk to patrons—a woman and a man who were often at her first place, Darjeeling’s Teahouse. From their expressions she was sure they liked her new tearoom, and some tension eased. “Welcome to Darjeeling’s HouseHeart. I’m glad you came.”
    “Different than the teahouse, but nice,” the man said.
    “Serene,” the upper-middle-class woman agreed.
    “Thank you. I wanted serene.” Business was great, if it only stayed that way once the novelty wore off. Darjeeling’s HouseHeart had opened at the beginning of the week.
    “I think you have another hit,” he said.
    Camellia let out a quiet breath. “That’s good to hear.”
    “You really modeled this place after a HouseHeart?” asked the woman.
    “Yes. I did a lot of research,” Camellia said. Since only the oldest of the houses on Celta—usually FirstFamily Residences who were sentient beings—had HouseHearts, her tearoom drew in everyone who wanted to know what a HouseHeart looked like, or experience the ambience of the innermost ritual space of a house.
    The walls were windowless—a detriment to the space that Camellia had turned into an advantage—and of various shades of brown, roughly plastered and cavelike. Everyone knew HouseHearts were hidden under the Residences, so cavelike made sense.
    Inserts in the corners rounded the room. Light was just low enough to be flattering, provided by several spell-lights glowing like miniature suns. High in the north wall was a ventilating shaft with an ornate grill that also let in natural sunlight.
    “I like how you included the four elements,” the woman said.
    “Everyone knows a HouseHeart has all the elements,” said the man. “I like the fireplace in the south wall.” The fireplace was fashioned to look rough and worn into the rock, natural rather than man-made. On this warm late spring day, the flames were small.
    The woman laughed. “I prefer the round pool