and a small pitcher of cream in front of Meaghan. “Hey, I don’t want to pry, but I heard about the thing at Jamie’s house last night? They okay?”
Sally wasn’t magical, but she and Nate were both clued in and knew about Fahraya. Meaghan gave her an abbreviated version, leaving out the domestic violence and glossing over the uglier details of Jamie’s mental state.
“What a shame. I heard a little about the poltergeist stuff. Not surprising considering what he went through over there. So . . . how are the Fahrayans doing?” Sally glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned forward, smiled, and whispered, “How’s Jhoro doing?”
“Um, okay, I guess,” Meaghan said, surprised by the question. Sally had only met him once or twice as far as Meaghan knew. Maybe Marnie had brought him in.
“Speaking of which,” Meaghan continued, “have you seen him or Marnie today?”
Sally scowled. “She’s pathetic the way she follows him around. Like a dog in heat.”
“You don’t like him?”
Sally looked shocked. “Of course I like him. He’s . . . I mean.” Her face grew red. “He’s . . . him .”
Meaghan had never seen Sally flustered before. And what was the deal with Jhoro? Sally and Nate were self-described soul mates and clearly in love with each other. And she and Marnie were good friends. First Kady, now Sally? Has every woman in town lost her mind? “Sally, have you seen Marnie? No one seems to know where she is.”
Sally stared at the counter, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was. I haven’t seen her since the day before last. What’s the problem?”
“Kady said she blew off her nursing home clients.”
Sally looked up, startled. “She what? She didn’t call or anything?”
Meaghan shook her head.
“She loves those old ladies,” Sally said. “Has anybody tried her cell?”
“Yeah,” Meaghan said. “No answer.”
Nate appeared at Sally’s elbow with a large plate covered in salad greens. “Chicken salad special.” He set the plate down in front of Meaghan and glared at her and Sally. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you seen Marnie today?” Meaghan asked.
“No,” Nate said, his voice sullen. He walked back into the kitchen.
Her voice low, Meaghan asked Sally, “What the hell is going on? What’s up with Mr. Smiley?”
Normally, Nate was as bubbly and effusive as Sally. He exuded goodwill and optimism from every tattooed pore. Meaghan had never seen him unhappy.
Sally rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.” She raised her voice so he could hear her. “Some bug up his ass. Like I care.” She leaned forward, a concerned frown on her face. “Is Jhoro missing too? Please tell me he’s okay.”
“Haven’t seen Mr. Frickin’ Perfect either, thanks for asking,” Nate growled from the kitchen.
Okay, something weird—Eldrich weird—was going on. Trying to sound casual, Meaghan said, “Sally, I’m such a dope. I forgot I have to be somewhere in about ten minutes. Can you wrap this up to go?”
“Sure,” Sally said, a dazed look on her face. “I . . . I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day.”
“There’s a lot of that going on. Sounds like you and Nate could use some time off.”
“Yeah,” Sally said. “I don’t know . . .” She trailed off. Her eyes looked unfocused for a second and then she came back. “Tell you what.” She pulled a piece of plastic wrap off a roll sitting on the prep counter behind her. “I’ll put some plastic over this. Pay me later. And bring the plate back whenever.” She poured Meaghan a fresh to-go cup of coffee. “I think we’re closing up early today.”
“Good idea,” Meaghan said. “Call me if you see Marnie or Jhoro, okay?”
Sally nodded and locked the door behind Meaghan.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
B etween the report, the salad plate, and her cup of coffee, Meaghan didn’t have a free hand to use her phone. She headed for the nearest bench in the town square and called
Sally wasn’t magical, but she and Nate were both clued in and knew about Fahraya. Meaghan gave her an abbreviated version, leaving out the domestic violence and glossing over the uglier details of Jamie’s mental state.
“What a shame. I heard a little about the poltergeist stuff. Not surprising considering what he went through over there. So . . . how are the Fahrayans doing?” Sally glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned forward, smiled, and whispered, “How’s Jhoro doing?”
“Um, okay, I guess,” Meaghan said, surprised by the question. Sally had only met him once or twice as far as Meaghan knew. Maybe Marnie had brought him in.
“Speaking of which,” Meaghan continued, “have you seen him or Marnie today?”
Sally scowled. “She’s pathetic the way she follows him around. Like a dog in heat.”
“You don’t like him?”
Sally looked shocked. “Of course I like him. He’s . . . I mean.” Her face grew red. “He’s . . . him .”
Meaghan had never seen Sally flustered before. And what was the deal with Jhoro? Sally and Nate were self-described soul mates and clearly in love with each other. And she and Marnie were good friends. First Kady, now Sally? Has every woman in town lost her mind? “Sally, have you seen Marnie? No one seems to know where she is.”
Sally stared at the counter, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was. I haven’t seen her since the day before last. What’s the problem?”
“Kady said she blew off her nursing home clients.”
Sally looked up, startled. “She what? She didn’t call or anything?”
Meaghan shook her head.
“She loves those old ladies,” Sally said. “Has anybody tried her cell?”
“Yeah,” Meaghan said. “No answer.”
Nate appeared at Sally’s elbow with a large plate covered in salad greens. “Chicken salad special.” He set the plate down in front of Meaghan and glared at her and Sally. “What are you talking about?”
“Have you seen Marnie today?” Meaghan asked.
“No,” Nate said, his voice sullen. He walked back into the kitchen.
Her voice low, Meaghan asked Sally, “What the hell is going on? What’s up with Mr. Smiley?”
Normally, Nate was as bubbly and effusive as Sally. He exuded goodwill and optimism from every tattooed pore. Meaghan had never seen him unhappy.
Sally rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.” She raised her voice so he could hear her. “Some bug up his ass. Like I care.” She leaned forward, a concerned frown on her face. “Is Jhoro missing too? Please tell me he’s okay.”
“Haven’t seen Mr. Frickin’ Perfect either, thanks for asking,” Nate growled from the kitchen.
Okay, something weird—Eldrich weird—was going on. Trying to sound casual, Meaghan said, “Sally, I’m such a dope. I forgot I have to be somewhere in about ten minutes. Can you wrap this up to go?”
“Sure,” Sally said, a dazed look on her face. “I . . . I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day.”
“There’s a lot of that going on. Sounds like you and Nate could use some time off.”
“Yeah,” Sally said. “I don’t know . . .” She trailed off. Her eyes looked unfocused for a second and then she came back. “Tell you what.” She pulled a piece of plastic wrap off a roll sitting on the prep counter behind her. “I’ll put some plastic over this. Pay me later. And bring the plate back whenever.” She poured Meaghan a fresh to-go cup of coffee. “I think we’re closing up early today.”
“Good idea,” Meaghan said. “Call me if you see Marnie or Jhoro, okay?”
Sally nodded and locked the door behind Meaghan.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
B etween the report, the salad plate, and her cup of coffee, Meaghan didn’t have a free hand to use her phone. She headed for the nearest bench in the town square and called
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