“Okay. I’m taking my coffee and going to get dressed. I need to hit the road in fifteen.”
“I’m going with you. We should stick together until all bank robbers and felonious Phleabottoms are accounted for.”
“Not a bad idea.”
I dressed up a little for a change and put on a soft blue sweater that matched my eyes with a nice pair of jeans and my favorite boots. I took a little extra care with my makeup, too, humming.
Jack walked into the bedroom and leaned against the bathroom doorway, holding a travel mug of coffee. I glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and he smiled at me.
“I really missed you, Tess. Before you, I thought it was ridiculous that anybody could miss someone in such a short time. But now I get it.”
“I missed you, too.” I put my makeup brush down and turned around to hug him. “We’re hopeless.”
“That’s what Alaric said. I told them about you, and he looked at Quinn and then back at me and said, in that inimical Alaric way: ‘You’re doomed. From the moment I met Quinn, I knew she was my destiny. Now you’ve found yours.’”
I whistled, but my heart was pounding in my chest. “Your destiny? Doesn’t sound like something a scary high priest would say.”
“Atlanteans don’t have this contemporary idea of men needing to be macho or cool. They express their emotions, sometimes beautifully. One of Poseidon’s newest warriors is an actual poet.”
“Wow. But … the destiny thing. Do you feel that way?”
He put his mug down and wrapped me up in his arms. “I’ve felt that way since I came back to Dead End last year, walked into the shop, and looked into your blue, blue eyes.”
“That was just after you insulted Otis,” I recalled.
“And just before Granny G called me an axe murderer.” He kissed me. “Ah, the good old days.”
I kissed him back, with interest, and wished not for the first time that I had more than one day off each week. I really needed to look into hiring somebody.
“We should go.”
Jack bent to touch his forehead to mine. “Okay, Destiny. Let’s hit it.”
“Don’t call me Destiny.”
“Honey Bunny?”
“No.”
“Punkin Tater?”
“Stop.”
We drove separately in case he needed to go out during the day. He could have borrowed my new Mustang, but he said he might go out and see “the boys” out at their Swamp Commando Airboat Rides to see what they’d heard or seen about Henrietta or Aloysius, and he’d rather have his old truck for the swamp.
Then he’d said: “There’s a name for you. Aloysius. No wonder he turned into a villain.”
I couldn’t disagree.
Since I was by myself in the car now, I sang along with the radio all the way to work. My singing had an unfairly bad rep with everyone I knew, so I usually confined it to times I was alone. Jack and I had come close to never having a relationship at all after the time he burst into my house to “rescue me” since he heard me “screaming in pain.”
I’d been singing.
On the way to work, I called and checked in with Aunt Ruby at her office and Uncle Mike at home, glad to have hands-free phone capability in the new car, and updated them both on what Susan had told us.
Uncle Mike was more interested in other matters. “Are we still having the garage-raising party this afternoon?”
“Ohhh.” I’d forgotten all about it. He’d asked me earlier in the week, but we’d gotten distracted by other things. “I’ll ask Jack and have him call you.”
