I gaped at him. He was at least eighty and had the complexion of a baked apple.Ineeded Botox?
"Listen, you," I growled, and Jed pulled me back down into my seat, looking alarmed.
"Perhaps we should consider trepanation, if it's getting really bad, Tess," he said cautiously. "You do seem to be suffering from irritability …"
"I'mirritablebecause people are telling me I havewrinkles. And you are not drillingholesin my head, Jed," I gritted out. "Jack, please get me out of here before I hurt somebody."
Mr. Russell leaned over and picked his tool belt up off the floor. "I've got a drill in here somewhere…"
Jack's grip on my hand was tighter than usual when he hopped up and led me out of the diner. He was probably trying to avoid me beating Mr. Russell over the head with his own drill. Jed got caught up in conversations, though, and lagged behind.
Jack gave Lorraine cash for our lunch and told her we'd call her the minute we had news. She hugged me, whispered "water and nap" in my ear, and told us she'd keep Jed with her so he could talk to everybody, since he was a star in Dead End.
"I'll drive him to your place later, Jack. You don't get to meet your founding father every day," she said, grinning. "It's like George Washington walked into the diner."
I couldn't argue with that.
Just before we made it to the door, Judd from Judd's Pizza waved at us from his table. I guess he didn't eat pizza all the time.
"Sounds like I picked a bad time to expand into Dead End," he said, but he didn't seem overly despondent. "We'll fight if it comes to that, and we'll offer free pizza for everybody on the front lines."
The people near him cheered, and he grinned at them before turning a serious expression to me. "Tess, ignore all that foolishness about wrinkle medicine. All you need is salt."
"Salt?" I stopped walking. "What do you mean?"
"Put a little salt beneath your tongue and sit quietly until it dissolves. Works every time."
"I—okay. Thank you," I said politely. I had little hope, but it couldn't hurt, unlike the lavender spray up my nose.
After that, we made our escape before anybody offered anymore headache cures or comments about my wrinkles. I slumped into the passenger seat and closed my eyes. "How is it that the whole town might be destroyed in a few days, but everybody has time to bombard me with headache cures?"
Jack patted my arm and then started the truck. "Because they can."
I opened one eye. "What?"
"It was the same before every battle, during the war. When you know your lives are going to be on the line, and you have zero control over what the enemy is going to do, you focus on what youcancontrol, no matter how trivial or mundane." He shrugged. "Your headache, now. Broken bootlaces or whether we had sufficient rations packed, then. Small things that soldiers can gripe about to avoid falling into despair over the things that aren't so small."
The truth of it sank into my frustrated and frazzled mind like a spring shower on dry soil; soothing, refreshing, and completely, perfectly right.
"You're a wise man, for a tiger," I told him.
He laughed. "Tigers are always wise. You want to watch out for eagle shifters, though. They're kind of flighty."
It took me a beat, and then I groaned. "Flighty.Oh, Jack. Your joke are getting worse and worse."
"Hey, it was off the top of my head. I just wanted to see you smile."
I could hear the sincerity in his voice. He reallydidjust want to see me smile, and that—that was so sweet I could hardly bear it.
I reached out and touched his arm. "How did you become so important to me?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he swallowed. "About that. When we stop, I have something for you."
"Oh, no," I protested. "It's not my birthday until Wednesday."
"This isn't a birthday present. Oh. Huh."
"Huh, what?"
