Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It’s been three days since my kidnapping and the ghostly near-Chernobyl event.
Most of that time has been spent with Asher and a bunch of blankets and pillows, picnicking inside the circle of the standing stones underneath the thermal umbrella of propane heaters.
We’ve lounged, all bundled and cozy, reading books and trying to learn as much as we can as quickly as possible.
Whatever feral cat Laurel and her minions tortured out of the bag, Sebastian and the magic of my ancestral stones seem to have contained, or at the very least dissipated enough that I’m not staffing a remake of The Walking Dead.
The brass bell above the door jangles to announce my arrival at Biscuits & Banter. Known for warm southern biscuits, strong coffee, and lively conversation, the roots of this diner in Emberwood run almost as deep as mine.
“Thanks for coming, Poppy,” Tanner calls from behind the opening of the serving window. “Stow your stuff in one of the cubbies back here and claim an apron.”
I hurry across the black and white checkerboard tiles, and push through the swing door. “Sorry to cut it close.”
I know I’m doing him a last-minute favor, but not arriving sooner means he’s likely been worrying about how to cover the afternoon rush if I didn’t show up.
That would never happen, but he doesn’t know me yet.
Agreeing to pick up shifts here is more than a bit of pocket money while Vale sorts through legal stuff. It’s a much-needed distraction. It’s a chance to do busywork and reclaim some control.
Biscuits is part of my family’s past. From the rich aroma of coffee and fried foods to the cast of local characters who come here, this diner is the pulse of Emberwood.
My gran worked here as a teenager.
My mom did, too.
And now, so do I.
Tying the apron across my hips as I jog back to the dining room, I get straight to work. The past five years of needing to survive while having no ID meant I only ever worked as a laborer under the table. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but I’ve gathered a ton of adaptation skills.
And I’ve worked every aspect of restaurants, coffee shops, and bars.
“Hey, Poppy girl!” Marty beams at me from behind the counter. His apron is splattered with various sauces, but he wears it like a badge of honor. “How are you feeling, hon? Asher mentioned you hit a bit of a rough spell?”
That’s the understatement of the century. “Much better. Asher took good care of me, and I’m ready to take on the world once more.”
“As if there were any doubt. That boy’s devotion to you is the stuff of legend.”
It is. I wave to my bestie as he walks past the glass wall and looks in to check that I’m good. I told him he didn’t have to walk with me, but after the coven kidnapping and watching the ugly aftermath, there’s no convincing him otherwise.
“Is he coming in?” Marty asks.
“He’s got some errands. He’ll be back to walk me home later.”
“He’s a keeper, that one.” Tanner grabs a red plastic cup and fills it with ice and orange soda before heading back into the kitchen. “Hey, do you two want to come to dinner this weekend? It’ll probably be the last time we’ll be able to grill and sit out on the back deck this year.”
“That sounds awesome. Yeah, we’d love to. Thanks.”
Marty pulls a fresh pecan pie from the cooler to set in the dessert display cabinet. “Excellent. So, are you ready to make magic happen?”
I flash him an adoring smile. “Bring it on.”
Tanner taps the bell to collect an order, and I grab the plate of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and a side of pork belly.
Marty moves to intercept me with a conspiratorial grin. He tilts his head toward an elderly lady with silver hair pulled into a tight bun. The hairdo accentuates her high cheekbones and her hawklike gaze. She’s dressed to the nines with glamorous oversized sunglasses and a large travel purse.
I recognize her immediately.
“That’s Miss Edna Lou Beauregard, Emberwood’s town gossip. Treat her with respect, or everyone in town will know your business, you get me?”
I nod.
“She’s a mainstay of Biscuits and is here daily—too afraid she’d miss something juicy if she wasn’t. As a returning Elite, be prepared for her to be curious about you. Also, she’s due for a refill. Decaf.”
“Got it.” I grab the pot of decaf as I pass the coffee station and head to Edna’s table.
“Good afternoon, Miss Edna. I’m Poppy Hallowind.” I set her pancakes down in front of her and top up her coffee, careful not to spill on her notepad.
I try not to giggle at the mug Marty gave her. It says, ‘Careful, my coffee is hot, but my tea is hotter.’
It seems Lady Whistledown has nothing on Miss Edna.
Given the opening, her blue-washed eyes peer up at me. There’s a moment of recognition, and I wait.
I leave it to her to tell me how we’re going to play this. The way she dismissed Asher and me after we found her golfcart-deep in someone’s hedge told me she wasn’t and likely still isn’t willing to discuss the matter.
“Poppy Hallowind?” she repeats. “Zoe’s oldest?”
“Yes ma’am. Just arrived back in Emberwood last week.”
She picks two creamers from the little bowl in the center of her table and peels back the paper before pouring them into her coffee. “And where are you back from, dear?”
“Wichita. I’ve been there for the past five years.”
“And what about your sisters? Will they be joining you?”
“I hope so. Honestly, I wanted to talk to you about that sometime. We were separated after my parents died, and I want to track them down.”
Miss Edna stops cutting her pancakes and blinks up at me. “Separated? You don’t know where they are?”
“No ma’am, but I’m hoping being back here will open the doors I need to find out what happened and where they are.”
Edna pours a heaping dose of syrup onto her pancakes. “Well, I hope you’re right, dear. Let me think on it. I may have some notes in one of my journals from back then that might help.”
That was exactly what I was hoping for. “Thank you. That would be wonderful. Now please, enjoy your meal. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit, but if you need anything, just give me a wave.”
My shift goes smoothly for the next few hours, and it doesn’t take long to fall into sync with Marty and Tanner. They really are great guys. And the more I get to know them, the more I think they’re a perfect couple.
Near the end of my shift, Asher arrives and claims a stool at the counter. Not long after, Sheriff Decker stops in for a travel mug refill on his way to check in on Jace Jenkins, Emberwood’s mechanic and resident heartbreaker.
According to Marty, Jace is tall, broody, and great with his hands, and has all the eligible women in town going in for regular vehicle upkeep. “It’s less about car care and more about them wondering how to get Jace to tune them up.”
The sheriff chuckles. “Well, I don’t suppose he’ll be doing much more than growling at folks for the next few days. Last night, he nearly drove his truck into a ditch on his way home from the garage. I found him slumped over in the front seat of his truck, sound asleep.”
That sounds oddly coincidental to how we found Miss Edna, and I meet the arched brow of Asher as he lifts his head. Yeah, weird, right?
But not wanting to get on Miss Edna’s bad side by spilling the tea on her, I don’t say anything.
I do jot down the name Jace Jenkins on a page from my order pad and hand it to Asher. “Maybe, if he has some spare time once he’s feeling better, we can get him to come and give the forgotten cars in our garage a once-over.”
Asher nods and tucks the note into his pocket.
Marty boxes up a couple of pieces of pie and adds another coffee for the sheriff to take to Jace on the house. “Lord knows that boy runs on caffeine and spite, but not being able to make it home? A young buck like him? I reckon there’s more to it than simply runnin’ on empty.”
I open the dessert display and take out a large piece of coconut cream pie for Asher. “More than a few folks today mentioned feeling run down. Maybe there’s a flu bug going around. Or it could be allergies. Fall weeds can really wipe some people out.”
Marty gives Tanner a knowing look, but whatever silent conversation is shared, it doesn’t involve me.
“Well, I’m glad he wasn’t hurt.” Asher takes the first forkful of pie into his mouth and groans. “There are certainly worse things than not being able to keep your eyes open and crashing out on the front seat of your truck.”
“Much worse,” I agree.
The brass bell announces the arrival of two men in their late fifties. One is wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, has rich, brown hair that brushes the tops of muscled shoulders, and is carrying a computer bag.
The other is wearing camo khakis, an army green sweater, and a ball cap with the logo of the Emberwood Eagles. He walks with an uneven gait and seems to favor his right leg.
“Welcome, gents.” Marty gestures to the big booth at the back. “Are you settling in for the night, Declan?”
The mayor smiles, and I notice a striking resemblance to a buff Christian Bale. “A mayor’s work is never done.”
The other man laughs. “Oh, please. You’re planning the fall harvest festival. It’s not like you’re locked in civil or political unrest.”
Marty drops his head to speak to Asher and me. “Mayor Carmichael was elected unopposed because no one else wanted the job. He runs the town like a laid-back bartender, solving disputes over coffee instead of town hall meetings.”
“My kind of guy,” Asher says.
Marty grins. “Yeah, he’s one of the good ones. Pete is too. Pete Dalton is the owner/operator of the mercantile across the way. He’s an army vet, and a bit stuck in his ways. He still writes his receipts by hand and has an IOU board for locals to take what they need and pay later.”
That touches my heart. “We’ve had our butts saved more than once by true kindness like that, haven’t we, Ash?”
Asher swallows and nods. “That kind of generosity is harder to find every day, but it makes a difference in the lives of the people it touches.”
“Preach.”
Marty hands me two mugs. “They both take coffee black and likely don’t need a menu.”
I accept the mugs and grab the fresh pot as I pass the coffee station. “Good evening, gentlemen. Let me see if I can guess which of you gets what.”
I set down the mug that says, ‘If it ain’t on paper, it didn’t happen,’ in front of Pete Dalton from the mercantile. And give Mayor Carmichael the one that says, ‘I’m not here for politics. It’s all about the pie.’
The two of them blink up at me, both wide-eyed and looking a little shaken. It’s a look I’ve been getting pegged with a lot today.
“I take it the two of you knew my mom. I’m Poppy Hallowind. It’s nice to meet you both.”
The mayor extends his hand, and when our palms meet, he uses his other hand to clutch longer. “Poppy-girl, you don’t know how many times I’ve wondered about you and your sisters. It’s good to see you, sweetheart. It’s been a long time.”
The warmth and familiarity in his voice say he knew me before, but I don’t remember. For the millionth time, I send mental daggers flying at Laurel and the Emberwood coven for taking my life from me.
“It has, but I’m back now.”
Mayor Carmichael’s gaze narrows. “Is everything all right, Poppy? You don’t seem yourself.”
Okay, so I must’ve known him from my life before.
I take a deep breath and give them the same answer I’ve been perfecting all day.
“It seems the trauma of what happened was too much. I blocked out my past, and only just learned about who I am and where I came from. I’m here on a mission of self-rediscovery. ”
The mayor frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but… “Yeah, maybe. My sisters and I were separated after my parents were killed. Now that I’m back, I want to find out what happened to them and bring them home.”
His brow furrows. “I wasn’t aware of that. I’m sorry.”
There’s something in the intensity of his gaze that has me dropping my focus to the coffee pouring into his mug. “It’s not on you, but yeah, if you know who handled things after my parents died, that would give me a starting point.”
“Off-hand, I couldn’t say, but consider me on the case.”
“I appreciate that, thank you.”
Pete is still staring. “You must get it all the time, but man, you look so much like your mother.”
“Yeah, Asher and I have been saying the same thing with each new picture we find of her in the house.”
“Asher?” the mayor asks. “Your boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. He’s my best friend. The guy who found me and dusted me off and kept me safe. He’s my brother from another mother. Ash, come meet Mayor Carmichael and Mr. Dalton.”
Asher turns his head from where he’s chatting with Marty at the front counter and lopes over to join us.
“Gentlemen,” I say, leaning to the side to bump shoulders with him, “this is my partner in crime, Asher Hendrix of Wichita, Kansas.”
Asher extends a hand and accepts the introductions. “Mayor Carmichael, Mr. Dalton, it’s nice to meet you both.”
The mayor chuckles. “No need for all the formality, kids. I’m just Declan, and this is Pete. The people of Emberwood are a small community but a large family.”
Images of my torture from the other night fill my mind, and I fight not to roll my eyes. Family, my ass.
The brass bell chimes, and it’s as if my nightmare conjured the jerk out of thin air. Wylder comes striding through the door. A wave of shock and repulsion hits me like a slap.
The coffee pot slips from my hand as I stumble back a step and crash into Asher.
Thankfully, Asher catches me, and Mayor Declan catches the coffee pot with astounding reflexes.
“Poppy? What is it?” Asher’s attention follows my gaze, and he straightens to his full height. “Is that him? The one who hurt you?”
I swallow, fear choking me as I manage a nod.
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.