Page 18 of Home to the Hollow

“Mow!”

Looking down, I frown at the cats at my feet. “Where the hell did you guys go? I made an idiot of myself again, and you Houdini’d out, so you couldn’t save me,” I gripe. They just give me big eyes for a moment, then turn tail towards the diner. Grumbling under my breath, I give in, following them down the street with a deep-seated plea to the universe that I don’t encounter anyone else that wants to socialize.

I’m peopled out for the day and it’s only 10 am.

* * *

When I enter the diner,I’m thrilled to find it mostly empty. The Town Hall crowd hasn’t started filtering in for lunch, and the breakfast people are gone. There are a few old timers in booths towards the back, but the noise level is low, and my chances of being accosted seem much the same.

“Miss Jolene!” Hazel calls, hoofing it from the other end of the counter to meet me. “You’re back. And you’ve found friends, I see.”

I look at Jekyll and Hyde, who promptly leap onto counter stools as if presenting themselves at a cat show. “I did. Have you seen them before? They sort of showed up two nights ago and refuse to leave.”

Hazel’s smile widens and she shakes her head. “No, I haven’t. You seem to have been chosen.” Bustling away for a moment, she returns with two small plates with pieces of lunchmeat on them, sitting one in front of each cat. “Such lovely gentlemen deserve a treat, I think. What can I get for you, Jolene?”

“Just a to-go cup with the largest amount of cream, sugar, and vanilla syrup you can fit in it. I’ve had an interesting morning, and I have a few more things to pick up before I head home to tackle the upstairs of the house.”

“Mmmm,” she says, arching a brow. “People giving you trouble? Send them to Hazel and I’ll set them straight.”

Chuckling softly, I shake my head. “No need, Hazel. Over the years, I’ve gotten quite skilled at taking care of myself. I’m not the little girl who lived here years ago. But I appreciate the offer.”

She harumphs, walking over to the cappuccino machine when it beeps. I watch her carefully pour the coffee, add a few things in unmarked bottles, mix, and then dollop foam on the top. “If you say so. Just remember that I’m here if you change your mind. Where are you headed next?”

I take a sip of the drink she hands me, and my eyes almost roll back into my head. Whatever this is, it’s heaven on Earth. I know better than to ask baristas, bartenders, and cooks for their secrets, so I smile. “I have to go down toDress Me Up Buttercupto buy some clothes that are a little more…here…for when I teach.”

A booming laugh echoes off the walls, and Hazel looks over at my companions. “You two keep her calm in there. Fidelia Violet Cantwell isn’t the worst of the ladies in this town, but she isn’t the best, either. And if her brother is around, avoid him like the plague. That little twit is FAR too big for his britches.”

“Hazel!” I admonish, looking around to make sure prying eyes or nosy ears aren’t going to spread rumors that I trashed founding families in public. “I’m sure everyone has grown up since I left.”

“You’d be one hundred percent wrong, Jolene. None of them have, and it worries me for a lot of reasons. Since the Hostile Takeover, things should be moving in the right direction, and they don’t seem to be.”

My brow arches. ‘The Hostile Takeover’? What in the hell is that?

“Well, even so, I want you to be careful. I’m not someone the Council will take notice of, even if I am disrespecting our elite townsfolk. You, however, need to toe the line when dealing with them. The big families are protected, and I don’t want to see you end up like…”

Her words trail off, and I lean in, hoping she lets a few more clues slip. My gut instinct is that Hazel knows something that could start me on the path to solving my mystery, but if I push too hard, she’ll shut down. “Like whom, Hazel?”

“No,” she murmurs. “It’s not time yet.” Frowning, she walks over and picks up the empty plates in front of my boys, lumbering to the back with them.

Damnit. I almost got real intel. It was so close I could taste it. If only Hazel hadn’t trailed off, I would have gotten a name to start researching. I wait for a few moments, and when it’s clear that Hazel isn’t coming back out, I gather my bag and coffee, disappointment etched across my features.

My fickle luck strikes again.

Home (Again)

“Oh, come on!” I growl in frustration. The pieces of the broken bed are heavy as shit because my parents had a love affair with furniture built to withstand an earthquake. I thought I could at least get them into the hallway before Gene and Niecy’s grandkids show up.

I piled the bags and boxes containing my new clothes on the lounge, and though my visit with Fidelia was definitely not one I look to repeat, it wasn’t the worst interaction I’ve had. I finished my shopping, came home, and worked on the downstairs boxes until it was done.

Unfortunately, that meant bunking on the couch again, and since I’m not a twenty-year-old anymore, it needs to be the last time. Or at least, the last time until I get my furniture inside. The remnants of my folks’ décor are all uncomfortable yet highly presentable for guests. The sparse items I bought in Richmond are designed for comfort and function, not snotty tea parties, so getting those unloaded is another priority for the day.

My dreams were filled with weird symbols and events—so much so that I remembered every second of them when I woke up. Usually, I get fragments, but not much else.

Everything here is off-kilter, and it’s making me batty.

I give the huge chunk of bed frame another shove, using my entire body to slide it through the doorframe. “Finally.”

I drop to the floor, panting as I fumble for my water bottle. There are piles of boxes in every room of the upstairs, each labelled with its contents. I know that I’ll have to have Niecy’s boys clear the broken bed first, and then every single piece of furniture from that master before I can unpack. I don’t feel comfortable in my parents’ room, and I can’t live in the smaller guest room I’m in now.

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