He needed to punch something. Pounding pegs into legs might counteract his pain. He yanked the door open and heard Tailless howl in pain.
Everything is normal in here, anyway.He entered the shop.
Chapter Fourteen
He’s not here.Amity’s sagging spirits plummeted further as she eyed the shop, vacant, except for one alien woman operating a buzz saw.
Hours had passed since their blowup, and Marshall still hadn’t appeared. She’d assumed—hoped—after he calmed down, he’d see reason and come home, but he hadn’t, so she’d gone to find him to make things right.
She’d tried to explain at the library, but he’d refused to listen!He has to listen!
The woodshop was the only place she could think of where he might have gone. But there was nobody here, except the woman. Where was everybody?
She approached the woman on the saw. “Um, excuse me?”
The woman continued working, unable to hear with her protective hearing gear. Amity waited until she finished guiding the lumber through the blade then touched her shoulder. “Excuse me!”
The woman jumped. She shut the saw off and removed her headgear then turned to face Amity.
“Um, I’m looking for Marshall…my husband.” She scanned the shop. Could he be in a break room or an office? She couldn’t barge in and search the place. “Is he here?”
“No. He drove off in a conveyance just as I returned from lunch.”
He drove off? Where would he have gone?Anyplace to get away from me.Insecurity rose up, but she tried to stifle it.Maybe he went to cool off.
But why isn’t he back yet? It’s been hours!
“Do you know where he went?” Maybe it was official business. Except they both had the day off. He wasn’t supposed to be at the shop at all.
“No idea.”
“When he’ll be back?”
“No.”
“Was he alone?”
The alien woman shrugged. “Yeah.”
Maybe John would know? They worked together. “Is John here?”
“Nope. He and Chartreuse went to deliver a load of tables.”
“All right, thank you. If you see Marshall, would you tell him—”I’m sorry? Please, come home?She couldn’t pass that messagethrough a third party. “Tell him I stopped by.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you.” There was nothing more to say, and the woman needed to get back to work. Amity left, feeling more depressed than ever. She trudged across the compound to the pottery studio but then faltered. How many people did she want to drag into her problems today? But she needed the sympathetic ear of her best friend. She needed reassurance that everything would be okay. She entered the studio.
Faith looked up from her pottery wheel. “Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” she responded and burst into tears, unable to hold them back anymore.
Her friend hurriedly washed her hands in the sink and then ushered Amity to a bench. “What happened? Tell me.”
“M-Marshall and I had a f-fight.” She sobbed.
“Honey, you two have been sniping at each other since you got married.”
