Sweet Dreams (Tales from Salus Glenn #2)

Chapter One

Lulu

“Come on baby, don’t fail me now,” I crooned to the boat-sized sedan as I pumped my foot down on the gas pedal once, twice, a third time, begging my grandfather’s treasured car to make the final turn into the Salus Glen Post.

The old sedan groaned, and I echoed it, bouncing lightly in my seat, as I cranked the wheel towards the saved space right by the back door.

Creaking and squealing, the sedan shuddered to a stop, the front bumper only inches from the ‘Head Editor’ sign that denoted who usually parked here.

Of course, the sign’s paint was peeling now, my grandfather’s name nearly erased by time and southern humidity.

But, as I sagged into my seat, I could still see the vague outline of his name.

Lennon Yale.

My lips curled. Grandpa Lennon had made the sign himself, intent on making Salus Glen Post just as prestigious as any of the big city papers that he’d worked for before he and Grandma Mattie had moved here decades earlier.

My smile slipped a little. I really should take some time to update it for him. That would brighten his day.

Grandpa had been a brilliant investigative journalist and had spent the first years of his career chasing criminals and investigating the biggest, most exciting stories in cities all along the East coast.

Until, well… until something happened. And then, he brought my dad and grandma Mattie here to a little nothing sized town too far outside of New Orleans to be of consequence.

He’d traded in his investigative nature for that of a family man who had settled down, raised a son, and then that son’s daughter.

I shoved the heavy car door open, using my foot when it hit the apex and immediately swung back again. Yanking first myself out of the low-set sedan, then my shoulder bag, I stood and stared around the little parking lot.

Completely empty except for the blasted sedan.

Which meant I was either very, very early, or very late.

Based on my personality, I would say that I was probably late. I tossed a curl out of my face, making sure that the heavy, short locks didn't block my view as I made my way up the steppingstones towards the Post’s front door.

A soft bell twinkled above my head, the sound resonating around the interior. It was as familiar to me as any other part of this town and invoked a memory of hiding out here after school, watching Grandpa work hard on the bi-weekly issue.

“Grandpa Len?” I raised my voice, shouldering my bag as I closed the door behind me. The reception desk was empty, but the laptop was lit up and live. Grandpa’s longtime assistant and best friend, Bruce Miroslav, was noticeably absent.

“Hello?” I called again, moving towards the back office. The hardwoods under my soles groaned softly.

“What do you want to do about it?” Bruce was saying, his raspy voice barely a whisper. “We have to decide how we want to handle this.”

“We will handle it like we have everything else. As it comes. We will manage.” My grandfather’s baritone echoed in the little room. I heard the screech of a chair and his throat being cleared. “But, right now, I have bigger and better things to do. Like welcoming my favorite granddaughter.”

Sensing my prompt, I popped into the familiar office, my eyes skating from where Bruce stood to the side, a tense smile on his face, to the hulking man who was approaching.

Lennon Yale was still a mountain of a man, even with his silver hair and the heavy lines creasing his brow.

“I am your only granddaughter,” I said into his tweed sport coat, my face crushed there as his arms banded around me.

I sighed, as much as I could with his grip on me. His hugs were in a class all their own. He gave me one last hard squeeze, then eased me back onto the simple black heels I’d tossed on this morning.

“Even so, I’m allowed to have favorites,” Grandpa Lennon said, leaning back to stare down at me, “You are awfully dressed up, sweetheart.”

I snorted, then put a hand on my hip, “I don’t know what you’ve been working on today, but I am still planning on interviewing for this job.”

Bushed grey brows rose high and Grandpa Lennon pushed his glasses up his nose. “Interviewing?”

I raised my chin, “Yes, Mr. Yale, interviewing.”

“You really don’t need to, Lulu.”

“I want to, Grandpa, really.”

Grandpa Lennon’s mouth dropped open, but this time, it was Bruce who spoke up on my behalf, stepping forward with an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, shut it, Len, let the girl interview if she wants to.”

I slung a hand around Bruce’s slim waist and then grinned at Grandpa Lennon. “She wants to.”

Hands thrown up, Grandpa Lennon marched back around his desk, covered with stacks of papers, three different colors of post-it notes and a laptop that appears to be softly playing music.

Pure chaos. I breathed in, letting the familiar sights and sounds soothe my weary soul. I may not have planned for this detour, but now that I was here, there was something wholly calming about being back.

“I’ll get us lunch,” Bruce said, stepping towards the door, “For after the interview. Then, we can catch up, Lulu girl.”

I smiled, sliding the bag off my shoulder as I came to stand behind the single chair in front of Grandpa’s desk. With a chuckle, he gestured at it. “Sit, please.”

I dropped into it, immediately pulling my dossier and resume out of my bag and setting it on top of the smallest paperwork pile in front of me. “Are you ready?”

Grandpa Lennon leaned back in his chair, “As I’ll ever be.”

“My name is Lulu Yale, I recently moved back to Salus Glen and will be seeking the position as head journalist at your newspaper. As you can see, I’ve spent the past three years working at well-known papers in both Seattle and Portland. You can see my references and job details here.”

I poked the top sheet of paper towards him, my gold-painted nails sparkling in the midday sun that sliced across his desk from the window. “And, of course, I have excellent local recommendations as well.”

“With whom?”

I wrinkled my nose, then resettled my thin, dark frames on the edge. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but my grandmother is kind of a big deal.”

At that Grandpa Lennon beamed, his eyes narrow as he considered the paper I’d pushed to him and then my face.

I sighed, settling back in the chair a little.

“Do you feel better?” Grandpa Lennon asked me.

I folded my legs across one another. “Actually, yes.”

“Good,” Grandpa said with a nod, “Can we celebrate now?”

“That depends. Did I get the job?”

His eyes are warm, “You got the job.”

Joy ricocheted across my chest, and I gave up this game and stood with a whoop. “Yes! You will not regret this.”

Rolling his eyes, he stood. “Can we go eat now?”

“I’d love to, boss,” I chirped, looping my arm through his as we squeezed down the narrow hall to where Bruce was waiting. We piled out into the tree lined street that made up part of Salus Glen’s downtown after another minute.

“Since you are the newly hired employee, that means you buy,” Bruce informed me as I ducked around a low-hanging branch.

“Of course, it is only right,” I said, smiling as we stepped out into the street, crossing towards the cluster of shops and restaurants that were waiting for hungry patrons.

Just as the sun slipped over my neck, I ducked, reaching down and making sure my heels didn't get caught on the cement roadway. Someone’s arm gently brushed mine.

“Oh, sorry!” I said immediately, turning to look behind me at whomever it had been.

“Sorry,” a deep male’s voice said. I stared at him, a handsome bronze skinned man who was ducking his chin away from my gaze.

But there was something, a flash of color, or maybe a reflection of the light. Because I swore, just for a moment, that his sharp features were covered in a deep red color.

My head tilted and I watched as his eyes, so dark they were nearly black, met mine for another second, before he hurried off the other way.

“Are you alright, Lulu?”

I blinked, shaking my head, “Of course.” Because humans didn’t come in that color.

Giggling at my own insanity, I followed Bruce and Grandpa Lennon into the diner. And even as I ordered my usual, a tuna melt with a strawberry milkshake, I couldn’t stop staring across the street, wondering who the newcomer to Salus Glen might have been.

And why I wanted to see him again.

***

Zaldi

“Keep walking. Just keep walking, you idiot,” I cursed myself out loud, my legs, which felt as if they weighed 1000 lbs. each, still resisted the command from my brain. They wanted to turn. To go back towards the stunning woman that we’d just passed.

The woman who had smiled at me, not recognizing me at all in my human glamour. This was the second time that I had run into her in person, outside of her dreams, and once again, she hadn’t recognized me.

“Fuck,” I cursed, pushing myself to keep going towards my brother’s new office inside the Town Hall, just a block down from where I’d seen her. I could feel the sweat beading on my skin as I made it further and further away. I was going to look a total mess by the time I got to Traum’s office.

The spring weather wasn’t warm enough to warrant the sweat dampening my chest and arms as I pushed through the double doors, immediately turning down the hallway to where Traum’s office and the ugly gold plague reading ‘External Trade Agency’ shimmered back at me.

“Traum?” I raised my voice as I pushed through the door, stepping around the boxes that littered the ground. “Bailey?”

There was a soft ‘ooph,’ and then, quick footsteps as Traum poked his head around the small reception space and sent a narrow eyed glare my way. “Zaldi? Fuck, brother, you have horrible timing.”