by Cate Lawley
“You had a moment of bravery—”
“Insanity, maybe.” Zelda shoved a few bills under the receipt.
He gave her a sharp look. “—a moment of bravery, followed by a little squeamishness. Happens to the very best of us. Thank you for lunch.”
“Let’s ditch this joint. I’ll give you the rest of my brainstorming notes on the drive home.”
“Perfect. I need to catch a client in a bit, and I wouldn’t want to part ways without giving you some career-planning homework.”
She just rolled her eyes when he said homework. But the fact that she could be flippant—that she wasn’t working up to an ulcer thinking about it—that was a small miracle.
Chapter 10
Her dad walked in the backdoor, late as he’d predicted.
“I quit.” Zelda munched a celery stick then picked up her phone and looked at the time.
“I told you I was going to be late. Wait, what?” Her dad stopped suddenly and almost tripped.
“Quit. As in unemployed. Hey, close the door. You’ll let the mosquitoes in.”
He reached blindly behind him and shut the backdoor. “You quit.” He chucked his keys on the table and joined her at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “You gave your notice today?”
“You could say that.”
Before she could explain her meltdown at work, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in a one-armed hug. “I’m so glad. It was due about three months after you started.”
She squished her nose up. “More like six weeks, I just didn’t complain right away. Oh, and I also picked up my old part-time server job. So I won’t be late with the rent.”
“The catering job, the one from college?” When she nodded, he said, “That’s all right. They seemed like good folks.”
“Yeah. Martha and Bill were always good to the wait staff. Fair, worked hard themselves.” She rolled her eyes. “Unlike Rob, the worst boss ever.”
“I’m not sure how that man still has a job.”
“It’s the company. There’s not much accountability for employees’ actions. If I ever have employees, you can bet I’d try to be a lot more like Bill and Martha.”
Her dad smiled in response and kissed her on the cheek, and then he headed to the fridge.
“What was that for?”
He just shrugged and said, “Beer?”
“Ooooh, no. I had a Mexican martini at lunch. I’m drinking water until I catch up on my hydration.”
He came back with a beer and a can of sparkling water. He handed her the water and then sat down in one of the barstools across the island. She hadn’t noticed before, but he looked really tired. His eyes were a little red and puffy, and he had that droopy look he got when he wasn’t sleeping well or was trying to do too much. She remembered him looking like that a lot right before he’d taken this job.
“Are you okay, Dad?”
He looked her in the eye and a smile blossomed on his face, spreading until it reached his eyes and made those little crinkles in the corners that he swore weren’t crow’s-feet. “Great. I promise.”
You’d think a guy who reaped souls for a living might be good at lying. Apparently, either there was no communication between him and the recently departed, the dead were incredibly gullible, or he only told the truth—because he was a terrible liar. So she let it go for now, but she’d keep an eye on him.
“About giving my company notice…I did that verbally—and vigorously—and then was quickly escorted from the building.”
His eyebrows climbed. “You’re just full of surprises today. What brought this all on? First you’re volunteering, then you’re thinking about changing careers, then you pull the trigger and quit. You’re not usually so advent—uh, spontaneous.”
“What are you talking about? I was saving for ages to go to Europe, a whole other continent, in case you’d forgotten. That’s plenty spontaneous and adventurous.”
He took a drink of his beer. “So nothing particular brought this on?” he asked without quite meeting her eyes.
He was so obvious.
“Clearly you have intel.” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “You have very good sources.”
She had to remember to give Uncle Bedivere a talking to.
“Well, I may have heard you have a new friend. I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t have mentioned him.” He blinked then added, “Uh, or her. Whichever.”
“It’s no big deal, that’s why I haven’t mentioned him. And he’s a normal, so I wasn’t planning on bringing him around the house.”
“One time I slip and let the red eyes shine, and ten years later—”
She snorted. “Six.”
“Okay, six years later, and you’re still leveraging that same tiny little mistake. Give your old man a break.”
“Not just the eyes, Dad. You conjured your scythe. I’m pretty sure that’s not even legal. You can’t just carry that thing around wherever, can you?”
“That’s a grey area. In my own home…” He spread his hands wide. “In any event, holding a grudge that long can’t be healthy.”
“Since it ruined not only my prom, but also the entirety of my dating present and future, I think I can hold a grudge.”
“Well, that’s not true. What about this Mark guy?”
“You are kidding me! I’m going to kill Uncle Bedivere.” Zelda wagged her finger at him. “But he got that one wrong. Mark’s not a date, he’s just a friend. Remember? I told you he’s a normal. I can’t date a normal.”
“Why not?” He actually looked legitimately confused.
“Are you kidding?” She started ticking off the reasons with her fingers. It seemed the proper amount of drama for the situation. “One, it’s against the rules for me to tell anyone, ever, about your job and the whole magic thing. How can I date someone who could never hear about one of the most important events of my childhood? Two, the penalty for breaking those rules is really, really bad. Torture or something. Uncle Bedivere was vague about the details, but very specific about the severity of the crime. And three, what happens to the poor schmoe who catches your next red-eye slip or sees your scythe appear from the ether? A normal won’t just run out the front door and spread nasty rumors that ruin my dating life. Nope. We’re talking mental meltdown, questioning reality, and all sorts of other possibilities for which I refuse to be responsible.”
“Are you done?”
She had to think about it. Breaking the rules, nasty punishment, driving hypothetical boyfriends insane… ”Yep. All done.”
“I’m not so sure about that rule. If you’re that concerned about it, you might double check with Bedivere. As for the other, you’ll have to trust me. You’re older, I hope you have better taste in men, and I’ve got a good deal more control these days.”
“Hmm. I’m pretty sure it’s a solid rule. I need to chat with Uncle Bedivere about how the details of my life have come to his attention…and why he’s sharing them. So I’ll definitely be checking in with him. But it doesn’t matter. Normals are excluded by my list.”
“I’m not sure I want to know.” He sighed. “What list?”
“You know, my must-have…uh, more like can’t-be list. It’s a dating thing. Don’t worry about it.”
“What’s on the list? No.” He took a swig of beer. “No. Don’t tell me. I’ll just have nightmares.”
“Exactly. But I bet you do want to hear about my long-term job plan.”
“You mean your career plan.”
She shuddered. “Don’t even say the word. You’ll ruin my happy future buzz.”
Her dad just looked at her like she’d lost a marble or three.
“That word means being locked in. Making permanent decisions. It’s so final.” She stared at her dad. “Mark gets it.”
“My bad. Your long-term job plan?”
“I made a list of part-time jobs that sound fun. I’m going to try out one at a time until I either cross out the entire list or
I find something that will keep me from starving and not wither my soul into a little dried pea.”
“Yeah, souls don’t look like that.”
Zelda chucked a piece of celery at him.
Without seeming to try or even move, he caught it in his left hand.
“That’s so creepy. I thought we agreed no weird reaper superpowers in the house.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then don’t throw vegetables at me. What’s first on your list?”
A small smile snuck up on her. Just thinking about it made her happy. “Florist.”
“Surprising. Does that require any training?”
“Not a clue. I’ve applied for a part-time job as a delivery driver for a small but growing shop that’s not far from here. They already replied and I have an interview in a few days. They seemed really excited to get my application. If I get the job, I’ll have plenty of time to find out more.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d say her dad was getting misty-eyed. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Because I’m applying for a part-time job that has nothing to do with my experience or education?”
“You’re stepping out of your comfort zone. Taking a chance. Good for you.” The big-softy look left his face. “I’m a little surprised that someone you’ve only just met has managed in a few days to get you to listen to what Kitty and I have been telling you for two years...but I’m glad.”
Zelda wondered about that, too. Then again, Mark’s secret sauce—psychic empathy—probably played a major role. The idea made her uncomfortable, as if she was short-changing Mark the guy and giving Mark the psychic empath too much credit. If he was a superhero, then he was more than his superpower—right? Good grief. Superheroes. Where had she even gotten that? Mark was hardly a superhero. He was a normal—a weird normal—but still a normal. Just an averge-ish kind of guy. Definitely no superhero.
She shook her head. “I think I need to get some sleep. My thoughts are spinning in funky circles.”
Her dad raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t comment. “I’ve got a few things to do yet, so I’ll turn out the lights. Sleep well.”
Zelda went through her evening routine by rote, and suddenly she was getting into bed without remembering the specifics of washing her face or brushing her teeth. It had just been one of those days. As she lay in bed, not quite asleep and not quite awake, a stray thought flitted through her mind: what if Mark hadn’t been a normal?
Untitled
CHAPETR ELEVEN
A week had gone by since Mark had heard from Zelda. He’d gotten a few texts, but no calls and certainly no more not-a-date, spur-of-the-moment lunches or coffees. Probably because she was busy. She’d landed a job as a delivery driver at a tiny florist shop that she said gave her the smiles when she first walked in. The smiles. He knew exactly what she meant, though he’d never heard the expression.
He’d spent enough time with her over the previous week that her absence now was notable. He missed her. Being with people could be hard for him—but never Zelda. She was always easy to be around. And she made him smile—a lot. Even sitting here, wondering what she was getting up to, he had the urge. He hadn’t felt like this since…he’d never actually felt like this about a woman. More than attraction, more than friendship. A closer connection he wasn’t about to try to define.
After a few more seconds of indecisive waffling, reminiscent more of his high school days than his adult life, he shook his head and picked up the phone. He was supposedly all grown up. If he missed someone and wanted to spend time with them, he could call.
The phone rang. And rang.
When it rolled to voicemail, he debated for a split second whether to leave a message. Then he reminded himself he was an adult, not a pimply sixteen-year-old. “Hey. Just thinking about you and wondering how the new job is going. Give me a ring when you have a minute.”
He ended the call with a decisive tap to his phone. There. Very adult.
He started to pack up his computer so he could head out to his favorite work spot when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Hmm.
He tapped the screen with a smile on his face. “That was fast.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t catch the call because I was in the middle of a delivery.”
He could hear the excitement in her voice.
“You sound pretty pumped about that. You think this might be the one?”
“Oh, it’s way too early to tell. I signed up for a class on flower arrangement that the owner recommended, and she offered to let me spend a few hours doing some of the grunt work in the shop, so I can see more of the process and not just the finished product.”
“It’s too early to tell…but?”
She laughed, a girly sound that he hadn’t heard from her before. “But it’s pretty cool. I don’t know if it’s this shop’s clientele, if the arrangements are especially fabulous, or what, but after a few days, I can say that most of the reactions I’m getting during my deliveries are giving me a pretty big warm fuzzy.”
“Big enough to compensate for traffic and poor parking?”
“Yep. Hands down.”
“So what’s the downside?”
“Well, even if I love it and either have an eye for arranging flowers or develop one with some practice, it’s a skill and will take some time to get good. And even then, the pay isn’t great. I’d probably have to eventually open my own shop or come up with some other creative way to make money. And that requires a completely different set of skills.”
“Which I’m sure you can manage. Technically, I’m a small business owner. I even have a few employees and a handful of contractors. It’s doable with research and the right support. Well, with some funding, as well, depending on which route you take.” He stopped for a second when he realized the direction of the conversation. “And thinking about options and making short- and long-term plans, that’s an excellent start. Kudos to you.”
“That’s actually why I called you back so quickly. I’m in between delivery runs, so I have to go. But I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your help. I probably owe you a week’s worth of dinners for everything.”
Never one to frown at opportunity, Mark said, “How about just one dinner? Sometime later in the week?”
“Done. I’ll get in touch when my schedule firms up.”
After he ended the call, Mark grabbed his computer bag and headed out the door. His step was lighter, and he might have been humming an off-key tune.
Chapter 11
Glenda examined her reflection critically then added another hair pin. There wasn’t much difference between a casual chic updo and a mess. In her estimation, approximately three to five hair pins usually did it.
As she turned away, her dressing table mirror shimmered and Bedivere’s voice began a pre-recorded message. “Twenty-four hours have passed since my last contact with the human realm. I invoke the emergency clause of your employment contract.” A brief pause, and then the message began again. “Twenty-four hours have—” She tapped the mirror, shutting off the message.
Glenda sighed. The last time she’d received the message, Bedivere had been hopping realms with some undisclosed non-human love interest and time had gotten away from him. The time before that had been a technical glitch.
She walked into the hall, where her only phone was located, and dialed his voicemail number. As she scribbled down messages, she thought of about ten different ways she would make him pay for this. She wasn’t a secretary.
And then she heard a message from Zelda, and another, and another. That’s when she began to worry. If reaper business was at the crux of Bedivere’s disappearance, she doubted her aid would be sufficient.
Quickly, she wiped all of the messages and recorded a new greeting. As soon as she finished the greeting, she hung up and dialed his cell. If he was taking calls from anyone, he would take hers. She never called him on his cell phone. Why would she? The mirror was superior in all ways.
&nb
sp; The call rolled to voicemail, and she hung up. “Oh, Bedivere. What trouble has found you?”
That question lingered as she packed. A chill crawled up her spine. Other realms were not at all to her taste. Not that she was scared. Certainly not.
She tucked the messages she’d transcribed into her small bag and prepared to depart the human realm.
Chapter 12
The muffled sound of a phone tickled at Zelda’s consciousness, but sleep won out. She’d quit her job the day before; she was allowed to sleep in. Besides, they’d leave a message. As she drifted back to sleep, no voicemail alert disturbed her slumber.
Three days later, Zelda couldn’t stop thinking about that missed phone call. If only she’d picked up the phone. If only her dad had left a message. Three days, and she hadn’t heard a word from him. She was worried sick, and she didn’t have many options.
She zipped into the first empty parking spot on Mark’s street. The area was full of townhomes, and street parking was scarce. She gripped the wheel and took a breath. Everything was fine. Totally fine. Her racing heart disagreed. Three days her dad had been missing. Three days. The man’s life ran like clockwork. Home for six o’clock dinner every day. Up and out the door by eight. What happened during work hours was a big mystery, but outside of work? Dull, tick-tocking, reliable clockwork.
She hopped out of her car and marched up the sidewalk to a pretty, well-maintained townhome with a massive wood door. She pounded on the door and then immediately stepped back, embarrassed by the loud noise.
Mark opened the door.
“My dad’s gone missing.” Zelda felt like a stalker, but desperate times called for extreme measures. And it’s not like it had been hard to find Mark’s address.