It’s almost three in the afternoon, and I’ve been on my feet for twelve hours straight. Cassia dashed overwith some lunch for me and then scurried right back to the café, which is just as busy as every other shop on Main Street. Our festival has been blessed with ideal weather—mid-seventies, low humidity, and blue skies—and the folks keep on coming.
Taking advantage of a lull in the foot traffic, I dash into the kitchen to grab another tray of bars just as the bell above the shop door tinkles. Stifling a yawn, I return to the front, a welcoming smile plastered on my face… only to find the one woman I don’t want to see standing inside my shop, humming off-key.
She’s wearing a pink flannel shirt over a gray tee that reads “Manga Mama,” red Converses, and baggy, yellow hiking shorts; sticking out of her shorts are a pair of skinny legs that a razor hasn’t touched in fifty years.
“Hi, Granny.” I place the tray of samples inside my display case and straighten. “Can I get you something?”
“So it’s true,” says my cryptic grandmother.
As usual, I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What’s true?”
“Your werewolf is off somewhere, waiting out the full moon.”
“He’s notmywerewolf,” I snort. “And while he’s getting ready to commune with moonbeams, I’m here working off my wing feathers.”
My grandmother purses her lips. “So you really don’t know, do you?”
It takes every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes. “I guess not… Can you please enlighten me? What am I missing?”
Granny’s wrinkly face transforms; her frown linesare smoother, her complexion more radiant, and her white hair takes on a faint silvery glow. When she smiles at me, I smile back, suddenly remembering all the fun we used to have before I became a sulky, rebellious teen. I guess I’d forgotten that I actually love this growly old faerie.
“I’m afraid I can’t say, dearie; it’s against the rules for elders to get involved. I can only tell you this—your young werewolf deserves another chance, and another after that—and he needsyouto provide them.”
Then Granny swipes three of my samples and shuffles out of the shop. But instead of scowling at her departing back, I stare after her in wonder. She’s trying to help me… not that I have a clue what she’s talking about.
I don’t have another free moment until after five, when it’s finally time to close up. I see Marv walking past in his black police uniform, grab my last two brownies, and poke my head out the door. “Hey, Marv, take some samples. I’m heading home shortly.”
Marv pauses, breaking into a grin. “Thanks, Sophie. How’d it go today?”
“Really well, except I sort of lost my employee at the last minute.” Hmm… maybe Marv knows something about Teddy’s mysterious werewolf condition. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Teddy’s… er… condition, would you?”
Marv’s eyes widen, and he nods to indicate we should step into the shop. “How did you hear about the fight?” he whispers urgently, closing the door behind us.
“Fight? What fight?”
“Oh… um… so you haven’t heard?” says Marv, backing away, like he’s going to sprint back outside.
“Oh no you don’t, Marvin Maxwell Maywood, Junior.” I plant myself firmly in front of the door. “What’s this about a fight? Is Teddy hurt?”
Marv puts up his hands, palms facing outward like he’s trying to ward off an invasive species, but I’ve known him all my life. Next to Rob Wolferman, Marv is Jake’s closest buddy and his second beta. “There’s an ongoing police investigation; I’m not supposed to say a word.”
I grab the front of Marv’s uniform; he’s at least six inches taller than me and weighs twice as much, but he lets me anyway. “Tell me what happened to Teddy, or I’ll tell Jake you’re the one who ruined his science project in eighth grade.”
“That was an accident… and… you promised not to tattle!” Marv glares at me.
Shrugging, I pat his shoulder. “I only promised not to tell Jake that you accidentallysatonhis science project. I never said I wouldn’t tell him you’re the one who broke it… Now, what’s this about Teddy and a fight?”
“Never trust a faerie,” grumbles Marv. “Fine. But you better not tell Jake I’m the one you heard it from.”
When I fold my arms and arch my eyebrows, Marv caves in. “Teddy and another werewolf got in a fight last night in the woods near the Sage Mage Supper Club. Teddy was pretty beat up?—”
I gasp, “How badly is he hurt?” I remember how awful Teddy looked after his first pack meeting, and that was a “friendly” fight.
“Cuts, bruises, bites; the usual. He’ll be fine… he’s, er… resting now.”
I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I ask anyway. “You said the supper club. Who did Teddy fight?”
“We think he’s a loner, the same wolf who’s been hanging around Sturgeon Bay lately.”
