"You're always starving," I pointed out. "Because, tiger. And, anyway, I'm sure you have better things to do. For example, your mail has really piled up…"
"Which is probably all junk, anyway. Tess, let me help. Maybe if I work hard enough, you'll start to forgive me for leaving."
I shrugged. "Maybe. It could be a Swamp Cabbage Festival miracle."
"A what?"
"You don't remember Swamp Cabbage Festivals?"
He looked blank and then groaned. "Oh. This town has more festivals than Germany during October. We don't have todoanything for it, do we?"
I started laughing. "Oh, Jack. You are in so much trouble. You're a business owner in Dead End, now. You are an integral part of the Swamp Cabbage Festival."
I opened the final box of decorations—the outside ones—and turned the music up, contenting myself with humming along, in consideration of Jack's much-vaunted Superior Tiger Hearing.
My singing reallywasthat bad, much to my regret—dogs howled, children ran screaming, even old, deaf Mr. Russell in church had asked me once to "Stop singing, for the love of the dear Lord, Tess."
I'd indignantly told him I was offering up a joyful noise unto the Lord. He'd muttered that maybe I didn't understand the meaning of the word 'joyful.' I'd given up then, because the "Amens" coming from the people around us had been disheartening.
On the bright side, I'd evidently healed his deafness. I should hire myself out to magic shows or reality TV. Also, the Lord gave me this voice, so I maintain that at least He must like my singing, but I also thought I might be on shaky theological grounds with that one, so I hadn't said it out loud.
"What's going on in that twisted brain of yours, Tess?"
"Religious philosophy."
He blinked. "Oh. I don't know if I should ask, but maybe we could it discuss over dinner?"
I put the last candle next to a taxidermied skunk—no, it didn't smell too awful, and yes, tomato juice really works—and blew out a sigh. "Okay. Beau's? I don't have much in the way of groceries at home."
"Sure, but not if you want to hear about my trip. It was… difficult. And most of it isn't my story to share, but what I can tell you isn't anything I'd want overheard at Beau's."
I could understand that. Anything overheard at Beau's, our little town's only sit-down eating establishment, may as well have been printed in theDead End Gazette. We might have more quirks than other small towns—for example, how we'd always known that supernatural creatures and people existed, long before they came out to the rest of humanity—but we could rival any of them for gossip.
"Okay. Let's go to my house. We can order pizza or eat sandwiches."
Jack followed me in his truck over to my house, which was a very short drive, because Dead End was a very small town.
I turned onto the driveway I now shared with my new neighbor, the sheriff's brother Carlos, who was a vampire, and honked my horn once to let him know it was me. It was just a thing I’d started doing to be neighborly, and he hadn't told me to knock it off yet, so I figured it was OK. I figured he was probably asleep during the day, anyway.
I loved my little house. I'd purchased it all by myself, with some help from my mom's insurance for a down payment. It was everything I'd always wanted. Cozy, comfortable, and homey—perfectly, exactly me.
Uncle Mike was always available to help with repairs or renovations, but I was learning a lot from YouTube as well. I'd recently re-tiled the floor in my bathroom all by myself and was pretty proud of it. Granted, it had been way harder than they'd made it look on TV, but I'd persevered.
Small victories, which were definitely big enough for me after the year I'd had. Solving mysteries wasnotmy main goal in life, especially when they involved dead bodies or pirate ghosts showing up in my pawnshop.
I parked in my little graveled parking area, and Jack was right behind me in his truck. He parked and stepped out, carrying a backpack.
"You're not staying overnight," I blurted out, feeling my face get hot. Jack had stayed at my house before, plenty of times, but they'd almost all involved danger, or murderers, orprotectingme from dangerous murderers. Once, we'd fallen asleep together on the couch, no bad guys in sight, and I'd woken up in his arms. I thought about that more than I wanted to admit. But he'd been gone for weeks, and there was no reason he'd need to protect me now, except maybe from overeating pie.
He nodded. "I wouldn't impose. I just have something for you that I didn't want to leave in the truck."
I sighed. "Great. I'm snapping at you that you can't stay here, and you have a present for me. How is it thatyouleftmewith hardly any word, but nowIfeel like the bad guy?" I walked up the stairs to my porch, pulling out my keys, and a thought struck me. "It better not be a birthday present. You can't give me that until November."
I could hear him clear his throat behind me, and realized I'd just told him I expected a birthday present. I knocked my forehead against the door a few times before opening it. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."
"It's not a birthday gift, Tess, or a Christmas gift. It's a 'just because I missed you' gift."
I spun around. "You're not planning to be gone for Christmas, are you? This was going to be your first Christmas with us, after all. You didn't make it here last year."
