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Alex takes a break from getting slammed in the shins with the hockey stick to grab me a beer. “Everything okay?” He glances over at Charlene who’s corralled in a corner with Sunny, Violet, and the moms.
“With Charlene? Yeah. We figured it all out. Just took me getting my head out of ass to make it happen.”
“That’s good. Vi was worried about both of you this week.”
“So was I, but I think we’ve got it all sorted. She’s agreed to move in with me, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
Alex’s eyebrows pop up. “Whoa, that’s a big step.”
I nod and rock back on my heels. “Yeah. It’s about time, right?”
He laughs. “It really is.”
“Thanks for sticking by me. I know I’m not the easiest person to understand, but I don’t think Charlene and I would be where we are if it wasn’t for you.”
“I didn’t really do anything except give you some advice.”
“You’ve done a lot more than that, Alex. Watching you and Vi grow together, being part of this family—” I motion to his backyard, full of the people Charlene and I both care about. “This is how I figured out how to love Charlene. So yeah, thanks.” Jesus. I sound like an asshole.
Alex frowns, brows pulling down, and he blinks repeatedly before he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna hug you now, so don’t punch me.”
I laugh, but it gets caught in my throat with a whole bunch of other emotions when he really does pull me in for a hug. He slaps me on the back a few times, though, just to keep it manly.Eventually I manage to get around to talking to Robbie about the weed candies. I want to make sure I’m right about the ones from The Ranch—or The Harvest Co-op as it says on the wrapper—before I go calling it in to the cops. I also want to verify that the candies Charlene’s mother makes are the same, and that we can keep her out of this.
Of course Robbie is only too happy to check out the stock. He opens the box of candies, almost giddily, and picks one up. His expression turns serious. “Where did you say you got these?”
“I’m guessing someone from the RV left them on Charlene’s doorstep the day of the party.”
“Would Charlene know where they got these from?”
“They’re the ones who produce it, according to Char.”
“Really?” Robbie’s eyes light up, and he calls Charlene over.
This prompts the entire group to congregate around the two of them while she explains what happened when she was growing up at THC—the acronym now making a lot more sense. Robbie listens raptly, as does everyone else.
“This is all very interesting,” he murmurs once she finishes explaining what used to go down at THC. “And how old were you when you and your mom left?”
“I was fourteen and a half.” Charlene chews on her bottom lip. “My mom took a couple of bags of candies with her. I think maybe she sold them, and I started eating them, but I’m not sure if these are like the ones my mom makes.”
Robbie perks up. “Makes? As in still?”
“Um, yeah. She sends them to me every month. I didn’t realize they were weed candies. She said they were herbal, and I thought it was more like a cough drop, but apparently I’m a pothead, so . . .” She stops rambling and looks around the group, her cheeks flushed.
“Nothing wrong with being a pothead.” Robbie smiles. “Unless you’re a professional hockey player. Then you have to wait until you’re retired to enjoy that kind of relaxation.” He taps on the arm of his chair. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of the candies your mom makes, would you?”
“Um, sure. I have some in my purse.” Charlene roots around in her bag and retrieves a handful of candies. “These are from the last batch, so they might be a bit stale.”
Robbie unwraps one made by Whensday and one from THC and sets them side by side on the table, inspecting them closely. “Very curious,” he murmurs.
“What’s curious?” Charlene leans in to get a closer look.
“See how the coloring is slightly different.”
“Mmm-hmm, the ones my mom makes are greener.”
“It could be a purity thing.” He pops the one made by Whensday in his mouth.
“Robbie! What’re you doing?” Daisy asks.
“Research, darling.” He grins. “I have a few theories about these candies, and I should know in about forty-five minutes if they’re correct or not.”
“What’s the theory?” Charlene asks.
“A little over twenty-five years ago, right when I took the position at MJ Labs, edibles were growing in popularity. There was a company we’d been struggling to locate that began producing candies much like the one I’m eating. They cornered the market, but we didn’t know where they came from and couldn’t track the supplier. The recipe was flawless—the perfect balance to induce relaxation but maintain productivity. No matter how much we studied them, we couldn’t replicate the recipe. Then a little more than ten years ago, the quality began to suffer. Something about the production had changed, and we couldn’t figure it out. I may have the answer now.”
