Chapter Four

Two weeks later

From the description and hologram, Larth picked his bride out of the crowd of human females. Up close, he was struck by her alienness. The statuesque blonde looked nothing like his late wife or even the other human he knew. Where Sala had been petite for a Caradonian, her cyan complexion smooth and clear, her hair a lustrous, rich blue, this woman stood only a half a head shorter than him. Her shoulder-length hair was biscuit-colored, and tan spots reminding him of toasted sugar were sprinkled on her pale face.

What did I do? This is a huge mistake. The mound of luggage reinforced his qualms. She'd brought no fewer than six trunks. How long is she planning on staying? I made it clear the marriage would be temporary.

"Larth, I presume?" She stepped forward. "I'm Prudence McKenna." Her eyes were such a startling blue, it took him a moment to notice she'd stuck out her arm .

Brown-sugar sprinkles covered her hand, too. What am I supposed to do? Hesitantly, he clasped it. With a strong grip, she shook his hand and then released it.

"Um, yeah, I'm Larth," he replied and then realized the situation called for a little more in the way of a greeting. "Uh, welcome to Caradonia."

"Thank you."

"Uh…" He talked to people all day long, but words deserted him now. "Is this all your luggage?" He managed a complete sentence.

"Given I'll only be here a year, I didn't bring much."

He'd hate to see how much she would have brought if she were staying awhile. This is a big mistake. He wasn't ready for marriage—would never be, not even one in name only for a limited time. I should have tried harder to hire somebody. There had to be somebody suitable.

Why is it so hot in here? The temperature in the spaceport seemed to have shot up by twenty degrees.

He'd kept interviewing right up until notification Prudence's spaceship had launched. In truth, he'd run out of time and options. I hope she can do what she said she could. He'd accepted a lot on faith—on the assertion of an alien stranger.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt, realizing much of his anxiety originated from common "buyer's remorse." Regret and second-guessing oneself after a life-changing decision were normal.

Except, he didn't want his life changed. Why did I let Adar influence me?

"I'll grab a couple of accelerators for the luggage. Be right back." He practically ran for the rack, needing a moment to compose himself. He took his time disengaging the airboards. Primarily used for people transport, airboards doubled as luggage conveyances, although most travelers used self-propelled hovercases. She had six trunks, and none of them floated?

He set two airboards on extra-slow and guided them back to where Prudence waited. Grunting, he hefted three heavy cases on each board. "How much clothing did you bring?"

"It's not all clothes. Clifford loaded me up with baking supplies and ingredients he figured I might not have access to."

"Clifford?" This was the first he'd heard of a man in her life .

"My boss—former boss—at Flour Power, the bakery where I worked."

That's the important thing. She has the necessary experience.

"This way." He beckoned. "If you'll guide that accelerator, I'll take care of this one. Just nudge it in the right direction. We'll vap to my apartment."

"Vap?"

"Take a vaporator. You'll see." Using one would make more sense to her than him trying to explain molecular osmosis, which he didn't understand himself.

Halfway down the terminal, they arrived at the nearest vaporator. He stacked the luggage and then stowed the accelerator in the nearby rack. As he returned to the transport, it opened to discharge a couple of men.

"Get on," he told her. "Don't think."

"Don't think?" She frowned, but boarded, dragging a trunk with her.

He stacked the cases three-high and then squeezed aboard, his shoes touching hers. Her citrusy scent wafted over him, reminding him of fresh air and sunlight. With effort, he forced himself to focus on their destination. The air fizzed, and he swayed from the slight vertigo vaporating sometimes caused.

Her eyes widened with surprise.

Seconds later, the transport deposited them on the second floor of the cloudtopper where his apartment was located. He got off, she followed, and he pulled the cases out before somebody called for the transport, and her luggage got vapped to parts unknown.

"That was vaporating," he announced.

"Amazing!" she said. "Can you travel anywhere like that?"

"Anywhere in the city. The system isn't portal-to-portal, but you can usually get within a block or two of your destination. My wife and I picked this particular apartment because we could vap right to the building. The cloudtopper is mostly residential, but there's a school on the tenth floor, so the building has a vaporator."

"What floor are we on?"

"Two, which is low enough to make the rent affordable—but it's off the surface!" he boasted. The small rise in vertical distance represented a huge leap in comfort and status. Being on the second floor, he escaped the grime, racket, and noxious smells of the street—unless he opened the windows. Then noise and odors would infiltrate the apartment, but the fact he'd moved up a notch was compensation enough. Even better, the new bakery would be on the third floor of another cloudtopper. Another step up. Rung by rung, he would climb to the top. I will reach the pinnacle.

With shock, he realized this was the first time since the funeral he'd viewed the future with anything but grim drudgery.

"How many floors total?" Prudence asked.

"Twenty in this building. Some buildings have more. Some have a few less."

"Oh! So, a cloudtopper is a skyscraper. That's what we call tall buildings."

Skyscraper? What a strange name. "The apartment is halfway down the hall. There is no conveyance for the luggage. We'll have to carry it piece by piece." He hefted a trunk onto his shoulder.

She grabbed a handle on the short end of another case, and, dragging the piece behind her, followed him.

The apartment door melted open at his approach. He shoved the cases inside, and they returned for the others. In two more trips, they had all the luggage.

She surveyed the unit with obvious curiosity. He kept it clean, but nothing about it was fancy or spacious. But it was a huge improvement over his and Sala's previous unit, a dingy surface-level single room. This three-room apartment accommodated his home office and the bakery kitchen. The parlor boasted a nice wide window, except it had no view. All you saw was another graffiti-marred cloudtopper, which blocked most of the natural light. Under the circumstances, he would have preferred a smaller window and more wall space for shelving.

Besides a sofa and the floor-to-ceiling storage unit, a desk, two chairs, and his DataDrive were crammed into a corner.

"Office?" she asked.

"For the time being." The new bakery would have a cubicle to take care of business matters.

"The kitchen is in here." He led the way into the best part of the house. The kitchen was another reason they'd selected this unit. The largest room, it had space for commercial ovens, a giant chillerator, cooling racks, and a long smooth counter for working with dough, which also doubled as the dining table.

She scrutinized the ovens and the mixers, studying the dials and peering inside the former. "Hm…a little different from what I used on Terra Nova. You'll need to give me a quick tutorial. "

"I will. Let me show you the rest of the apartment, and then we'll go to the bakery at the cozi." That was the most important thing.

He pointed out the bathroom before moving to the bedroom. He froze. Fizzak.

How could he have overlooked such an important detail?

He had one bedroom, one bed.