Definitely Dead by Charlaine Harris

years, or would they take it in stride? Since the vampires had made their carefully orchestrated revelation, life as we knew it had changed, all over the world. Some countries, after the initial shock had worn off, had begun working to include vampires in the mainstream of life; others had pronounced vampires nonhuman and urged their citizens to kill vampires on sight (easier said than done).
    “I’m sure Tanya will be fine,” I said, but I sounded uncertain, even to my own ears. Acting on an impulse—and I can only suppose the tidal wave of emotions I’d experienced that day had something to do with this—I threw my arms around Sam and gave him a hug. I smelled clean skin and hair and the slight sweet smell of a light aftershave, an undertone of wine, a whiff of beer . . . the Sam smell. I drew it into my lungs like oxygen.
    Surprised, Sam hugged me back, and for a second the warmth of his embrace made me feel almost light-headed with pleasure. Then we both backed off, because after all, this was our workplace and there were a few customers scattered around. Tanya came in, so it was good we were out of the clinch. I didn’t want her to think this was routine.
    Tanya was shorter than my five foot six, and she was a pleasant-looking woman in her late twenties. Her hair was short and straight and shiny, a medium brown that almost matched her eyes. She had a small mouth and a button nose and a nice figure. I had absolutely no reason to dislike her, but I wasn’t happy to see her. I was ashamed of myself. I should give Tanya a fair chance to show her true character.
    After all, I’d discover it sooner or later. You can’t hide what you really are, not from me—not if you’re a regular human person. I try not to listen in, but I can’t block everything out. When I’d dated Bill, he’d helped me learn how to close my mind. Since then, life had been easier—more pleasant, more relaxed.
    Tanya was a smiling woman, I’d give her that. She smiled at Sam, and she smiled at me, and she smiled at the customers. It wasn’t a nervous smile, like mine, the grin that says “I’m hearing a clamor inside my head and I’m trying to look normal on the outside”; Tanya’s smile was more of a “I’m really cute and perky and will endear myself to everyone” kind of smile. Before she picked up a tray and started working, Tanya asked a list of sensible questions, and I could tell she’d had experience.
    “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
    “Nothing,” I said. “I just . . .”
    “She seems nice enough,” he said. “Do you think there’s something wrong with her?”
    “Nothing I know of,” I said, trying to sound brisk and cheerful. I knew I was smiling that jittery smile. “Look, Jane Bodehouse is signaling for another round. We’ll have to call her son again.”
    Tanya turned around and looked at me just then, as if she felt my eyes on her back. Her own smile was gone, replaced with a look so level that my estimate of her capacity for serious action instantly upgraded. We stood for a moment, regarding each other steadily, and then she beamed at me and continued to the next table, asking the man there if he was ready for another beer.
    Suddenly I thought, I wonder if Tanya is interested in Sam. I didn’t like the way I felt when I thought about that. I decided the day had been exhausting enough without creating a new worry. And no call from Jason.
    After work, I went home with a lot on my mind: Father Riordan, the Pelts, Cody, Crystal’s miscarriage.
    I drove down my graveled driveway through the woods, and when I pulled into the clearing and drove behind the house to park at the back door, its isolation struck me all over again. Living in town for a few weeks had made the house seem even lonelier, and though I loved being back in the old place, it didn’t feel the same as it had before the fire.
    I’d seldom felt worried living by myself in this isolated spot, but over the past few months my vulnerability had