But how did she know that?
“I have a friend,” she said. “Her name is Margery.”
Margery Windsor.
Denver’s mother. Boone’s grandmother.
The matriarch of the damn town.
No wonder she knew.
“She has a lot to share, and most of it is good.” She studied me intensely. “Though there are a few things that she wouldn’t share.”
Thank God.
“Is that so?”
“That’s so.” She stepped backward and waved. “Take care, Odin.”
“You, too, Janet.”
I watched her go.
Only when she was in the trees did I leave.
The entire drive to work I wondered what else Margery Windsor had shared. And if I had time to share my secrets with Constance before Janet did.
Nineteen
There are only two things certain in this life. Death. And if you fall asleep in a tank top, one of your titties will be out when you wake up.
—Constance to Odin
Constance
My belly was a riot of nerves as I waited at The Mercantile for Odin to arrive.
I chose a table outside since I guessed he still had Peanut with him, and was shivering in the cold when a deep male voice said, “Can I offer you a jacket?”
I looked toward the man I’d heard and realized he wasn’t a man at all. Or, at least, not a grown man.
More of a baby man.
He was tall and lanky, had a soft face that clearly hadn’t defined yet like a man’s would, and cold eyes.
Really cold eyes.
I winced. “Oh, no thank you.”
Please go away.
“Are you sure?” He held it out.
I was absolutely sure.
I had enough layers on to keep me warm, or so I’d thought. But no matter how cold I was, there was no way that I’d be taking a jacket from a random guy off the street. Even if he was dressed pretty nice and had a “proper” air about him.
“It’s fine,” I lied.
