Marci opened his office door and stepped out just as I approached. Her dark blonde hair was falling out of her ponytail, and her severe white blouse was wrinkled, like she’d slept at herdesk.
“Marci,” I greeted her. “Late night or earlymorning?”
“What?” She smoothed her hair back and her eyes darted around the empty room. “Neither.”
“You okay?” I asked, putting a hand on her arm. “Are you getting enoughrest?”
She twitched her arm away. “Perfectly. Yes. I mean…” She drew a deep breath and gave me a small smile. “I’m fine, Si. Thankyou.”
“Alright,” I said, unconvinced. “But if Mitch is giving you a hard time, you let me know and I’ll beat him up for you, okay? Everyone needs time off, even O’Leary’s bestdispatcher.”
She blushed crimson. “O’Leary’sonlydispatcher, except when Constantine’s on duty. Which he was supposed to be last night, but he called insick.”
I frowned again. “Constantine called in sick? He seemed fine Saturday.” Constantine Ross was young – only twenty-four – and Mitch could only afford to have him on part time, but he was as dedicated to this place as Marci or Mitch, or even me. “Everything okay with hisfamily?”
Marci shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything to the contrary. He’s still helping his dad with the landscaping business whenever he’s not here, though now Micah’s Blooms is giving them a run for their money, I’m guessing he’s runragged.”
I frowned and nodded. “Well, listen, don’t be afraid to talk to Mitch if you need more time off. I can cover for you myself if need be,yeah?”
She blushed further. “I, uh… I’ll be sure talk to Mitch. Thanks, Si.” She hurried off to her desk without another word, which was so surprising I turned to watch her as she walkedaway.
No rants about Rena Cobb’s sculpture? No gossip about Constantine’s family’s businesstroubles?
“That’s odd,” I told Mitch, striding into his office a second later. “What’s gotten into Marci?” I threw myself into the chair in front of hisdesk.
Mitch glanced up from his screen and raised one eyebrow. “Good morning to you, too. You’re up early. Hot date lastnight?”
I grinned. Mitch Turner was as disorganized as his brother Dare was tidy, which had always amused me as we were growing up. The only thing messier than his desk was his unruly gray hair. But just like Dare, Mitch’s brown eyes missed nothing. And likely Marci had already given him an earful about my interruptedhookup.
“Sadly, no. I got called to Pickett Campground before anything could happen, and then I found a car wrapped around a tree on theway.”
“Oh, yeah. Marci said something about that. Single-vehicle?” Mitch frowned. “Who?”
“Everett Maior. Henry Lattimer’sgrandson.”
“Ah, right. Going to be the new art teacher at the school,” Mitch said, leaning back in his chair. Two buttons on his shirt were done up incorrectly, and I had to fight a smile. The guy knew every fucking thing about the town, but couldn’t manage to dress himself. “Heokay?”
“Yeah. Banged up his leg pretty good, but otherwise alright. Car’s likely totaled,though.”
Mitch grimaced. “That sucks. Think he’ll be able to take care of Henry with nocar?”
Of course Mitch knew Ev was here to take care of Hen. I wasn’t sure why his superpowers surprised me anymore. “How do you know all this?” Idemanded.
“Having a sister who’s the principal at Garnett Elementary helps,” he said. “Hen’s daughter called Janice to ask if they had anything open.” He shrugged. “I guess the kid’s had a hard year and she and Hen were worried abouthim.”
“Ev’s not a kid,” I said without thinking. I remembered how weary his eyes had looked, the triumph I’d felt at making him laugh, even if it had been at my own expense, and how shocked he’d seemed by his own laughter. “What kind of hardyear?”
But Mitch’s eyes had lit up. “He's not a kid, huh?Hownot akid?”
“He’s twenty-nine.” Information I’d learned the hard way. I squirmed under Mitch’s bright gaze. “What?”
He tipped his chair back further. “You likehim.”
Damn it. “I gave you his age,Mitchell.”
“It’s not the data, it’s the manner in which it’s delivered, Si. You saidEv's not a kidlike I'd been insulting him or something. It was oddlyproprietary.”
I snorted. “How long have you known me? I don’tdoproprietary. He's Henry's grandson, and he seems like a nice guy. I drove him to Hen’s house and called a tow-truck for him, same as I would for anyone in thistown.”
