Macaroni and Freeze by Christine Wenger

reason for his sudden love of Priscilla.”
    Now, that was interesting!
    I waited for them to talk about Priscilla’s assistant, Jill, but the conversation shifted to who might play in the Super Bowl and the baseball strike that occurred years ago.
    Jill . . . I wondered how she was doing. Priscilla’s death must have been a real blow to her. She seemed very fond of her, even though I couldn’t imagine how.
    â€œTy, do you know how Jill Marley is doing? She seemed to be the closest to Priscilla.”
    â€œI talked to her on a couple of occasions today. She’s doing okay. Kind of shell-shocked, and she’s pretty much been holed up in Priscilla’s motor home, hiding from the press.”
    â€œShe’s probably been handling a lot of loose ends and making arrangements for Priscilla’s funeral. Has Hal Manning released Priscilla’s body yet?”
    â€œNot yet,” Ty said, taking a sip of the coffee Nancy poured for him as she breezed by.
    When Nancy returned, she placed a glass of ice tea in front of me. She must’ve read my mind. I was craving exactly that.
    â€œTrixie, would you like something to eat?”
    â€œI’m dying for a hot meatball sub with melted mozzarella and a side of onion rings,” I said.
    â€œYou got it, Trixie.” She turned to Ty and smiled brilliantly.
    â€œHow about you, Tex?”
    Ty chuckled. “I’d like a bowl of the split pea soup first. Then I’ll have the same as Trixie.”
    â€œYou got it, cowboy.” Nancy sashayed to the kitchen. It was an over-the-top exaggeration, and she got some wolf whistles and chuckles from the reporters.
    She turned back, laughing, and curtsied.
    Ty and I laughed. When my staff had fun, so did the customers.
    Just then the front door opened, and all eyes locked on Jill Marley as she came in. It was just one of those things—when the door opened, everyone automatically looked up to see who it was. But this time the media mobbed her. Her eyes grew wide, and she looked like she was ready to bolt or cry or both.
    â€œI shouldn’t have come here,” she said in a wobbly voice.
    Ty stood and made his way over to Jill. “Let Miss Marley into the diner, ladies and gentlemen.”
    I got up, put my arm around Jill, and led her to a booth away from where the media was holding court. I motioned her toward the window seat, and I slid in next to her. Ty sat across from us.
    â€œI—I just wanted to get something to eat, Trixie,” Jill said, her eyes misty. “There’s really no food left in the motor home, and I didn’t want to drive to the grocery store because I thought that Deputy Brisco—” She looked at him and blinked. Tears trailed a path down her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with a couple ofnapkins from the dispenser. “Well, I thought that you might think I was leaving town. I don’t know how long I have to stay here, but I really need to get back to California to take care of things for Priscilla.”
    â€œMiss Marley, I’ll let you go just as soon as I possibly can,” Ty said warmly.
    â€œAnd I’ll drive you to the grocery store,” I volunteered. I felt really bad for the poor girl. “That’s not a problem. Is it, Ty? I mean, even prisoners get a meal now and then.”
    â€œAnd what are you doing here now? Playing tennis?” He tapped a finger on the table. “It’s not a problem for you to get groceries. The Gas and Grab is in Sandy Harbor, not in South Dakota. And I need groceries, too. We can all go together.”
    I waved my hand. “What absolute fun. Not!”
    He grinned. “We’ll all go anyway. Tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you both up at about ten.”
    I made a motion with my eyes for him to leave the booth so Jill and I could be alone. Maybe she’d open up to me. Finally he took the hint.
    Even though I didn’t have any formal training,