“How do you know I haven’t?”
She regards me with alook, making me laugh.
“Okay, I’ll check it out.”
She pats my arm with the words “Good boy,” forcing yet another smile from me. What the hell is happening? I’ve been smiling in this town more in the past few weeks than for the past ten years.
“Don’t forget to paint that,” she adds, pointing at the half-finished railing. “Make it red. I like red.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I help her to her door and go back to fixing the railing, thinking that I probably should reward myself with a good dinner tonight.
“Farewell, Steve.”
“See you, Moon.”
13
Nora
Running on a few hours of sleep for many weeks is not ideal, so naturally it’s made me grumpy.
But if I’m really honest with myself, this morning’s interaction with Jerichomaybehas something to do with my sour mood. The whole town thinking I’m crazy does nothing to me—I’m immune at this point and perfectly comfortable with it. But Jericho? Somehow, it bothers me. Which is totally illogical considering we are just neighbors.
What else is illogical is my desire to throw my oddity into everyone’s eyes today, when on a normal day impressing people makes no difference for me. I dress in black leggings, an off-shoulder green tunic which totally doesn’t match the weather, and a bunch of jewelry. I decide to go with golden accents and all the protective stones I can find. A long necklace with selenite and tourmaline to shield me from all the shit that might come my way today, earrings with black obsidian, and a bracelet with hematite.
When I arrive at the diner, Roman, the cook,has already opened and is mixing bread in the kitchen. Moons’ opens at six-thirty, and I’m usually here bright and early. But if the damn rooster keeps depriving me of sleep, I’ll have to ask one of my servers to replace me in the morning so I can get a few extra hours of shut-eye. Otherwise, I’ll bite someone’s head off.
I wash my hands, put an apron on, and head to Roman. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Nora.” When he notices my attire, he whistles. “Are we expecting any witch hunts coming our way?”
“You never know.”
Roman is of Russian heritage and has a slight accent. He’s been working for my grandmother for thirty years before I came to replace her here, and I’ve never known him to take a day off. Quite honestly, the place would probably crumble if he ever does. His cousin owns a breakfast place in Little Hope, and she’s famous for the same work ethic.
He pauses mixing the dough and glances at me with a lifted brow. “What happened, hun?”
“Nothing. I’m good. Just feeling a little frisky today, that’s all.”
“Didn’t sleep well?” he asks with a smile, giving me an out.
“No,” I reply, yawning on cue.
“Nightmare again?” His voice drops the humorous note.
I shake my head. “The rooster has been at it again.”
His belly laugh is so pure, I can’t even be mad at him for laughing at my misery.
“You still can’t catch him?” He goes back to mixing.
“The bird is a ghost, I swear. He comes out of thin air and disappears back into it,” I reply with a groan, starting the coffee pot.
Moons’ has a typical diner layout with a bar counter and a tall chair at the server station, andtables and booths throughout the rest of the area. The kitchen and the main area are separated by a long glassless window where Roman can see everything that’s going on in the diner, and people can see him doing his magic. The prevalent color scheme is red because it’s Granny’s favorite color. A couple of years ago we refreshed the chairs, but if I’m honest, the place could use an update.
“Maybe you should get a cat. A big one,” Roman suggests with a chuckle. “A very big one.”
