Page 52 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
If only he knew what it meant for him.
When Joe returned to the house for breakfast, Melissa andTami had already left together for work. Mom was reading to Biddie, and Dad wasserving breakfast. So Joe dropped into the chair beside Grandad’s and accepteda plate.
Halfway through the quiet meal, Mom called from the familyroom, “Reaver Foster texted. He’ll be here soon, and he’s bringing help.”
“What kind?” asked Grandad.
“Another ward, I assume.” Mom breezed in, depositing Biddieon Grandad’s lap. “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
Working together, she and Dad had the breakfast thingscleared away and a fresh batch of applesauce muffins waiting when Jiminy rappedlightly on the kitchen door. “Sorry for dropping by so early.”
Joe glanced at the clock. It was coming up on seven.
Dad handled the welcome and introductions, and Jiminyreturned the favor, introducing a man with red hair. Heavy work boots and aflannel shirt gave him the air of a lumberjack. A big, friendly lumberjackwhose freckled face never lost the hint of a smile, as if he was always gladabout something … or he always had a secret.
That notion stuck with Joe, which was probably why he took alonger look than he usually did with strangers. He couldn’t have explained whathe expected to find, exactly. The redhead seemed more suited to physical laborthan Jiminy. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing finered-gold hairs and freckles on his forearms. His lashes were pale, and his eyeswere a clear brown. Sideburns left long. Strong jaw, clean-shaven. Eyebrows inmotion—an expressive face.
He looked like a nice guy. He looked completely human.
So why was Joe so certain he wasn’t?
Kip loved Tami’s folks. Good people. But Joe had him alittle worried. He’d zoned out during the introductions, then retreated to acorner, stealing glances and avoiding eye contact. At one point, Kip was surehe would escape, but Mrs. Reaverson got between her son and the door and gavehim something to keep his hands busy.
Joe sat at the table, shelling a brimming bowl of mixednuts.
It was like an open invitation.
While Jiminy answered old George Reaverson’s querulousquestions, Kip eased over and took the chair across from Joe’s. Picking up one ofthe silver nutcrackers in the bowl, he joined the quiet labor.
Joe tensed.
Kip had always gotten along better with the rowdy kids, buthe took a page from Ash’s book and kept his big mouth shut. Quiet could becompanionable. Silence could be shared.
Slowly, the man relaxed.
Interestingly, his calm affected Kip’s mood, as if Joe weresetting the emotional tone for the whole room. It looked like Jiminy had beenright about this one. There was more to Joe Reaverson than met the eye.
He was definitely warded, but not in the same way as Tami.If Joe had been packing crystal, Jiminy would have pegged him in an instant. No,this was sigilcraft—strong, subtle. Kip could tell the ward was anchoredsomewhere over Joe’s heart. A necklace? A pendant?
At this range, Kip was catching an enticing array ofemotions. And something that set his hairs on end, making him wish he’d chosen acloser chair. Curiosity was scurrying under his skin, enough to get him intosomuch trouble.
Take it slow. If things went the way Ash was hoping, Joewould be family. Plenty of time to get used to one another, to let trust takehold. But … patience wasn’t really Kip’s area of expertise.
“I’m Kip.”
The man stopped breathing. Kip was honestly concerned he wasgoing to pass out.
“I’m … Joe.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “Am Isupposed to … umm … isn’t it polite to ask about your name?”
Cheese and crackers.
For a few seconds, the table played host to a mutualfreak-out, but Kip thrust aside his battered ego to quietly ask, “How did youknow?”
“Oh … umm … umm. I heard about it on the news, I guess.Maybe a show.” He shrugged uneasily, eyes downcast.
Kip offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Thatmakes sense, but that’s not what I meant.”
Joe glanced up, dark eyes filled with uncertainties.
