“Rae Jones.” A dark-skinned guy with coily short hair and a green plaid shirt greeted me. Even sitting in his wheelchair, I could tell he was well over six feet.
Wilson didn’t look much like Octavia. He smiled easily, for one. His eyes were naturally droopy, giving him a look of perpetual exhaustion. But somehow, that didn’t dim his aura of excitement.
“Wilson Daniel.” I offered him my hand.
He gave my hand a firm shake. “We’re so grateful you agreed to take us on.”
“Your sister drives a hard bargain.” I smiled at Octavia. She frowned back, almost scolding as if I’d been trying to get away with something.
“This is our ranch hand.” Wilson moved back a little to give her room to introduce herself.
“I’m Esther Chen.” Esther was a short woman who couldn’t be much older than Jonah. Her black hair was wavy and windswept. She sported a worn oversizedsweatshirt; holes dotted the sleeves. Her beige skin tanned golden from what had to be hours spent in the sun. Esther took after Octavia, wearing a solemn look with no smile on the horizon.
“We’re making you guys dinner. It should be ready soon.” She moved back to stir a pot, seemingly uninterested in small talk.
“Smells incredible,” Jonah murmured. We stood close enough that I could hear his stomach rumble. It’d been a while since we had a home-cooked meal.
“Everything’s fresh from the garden.” Wilson beamed with pride. “And the cheese is local.”
I cleared my throat and raised a brow at Jonah. He returned my gaze, eyes wide with confusion before realization washed them clean.
“Oh, um, we have a request…if you all don’t mind.” Jonah fumbled with the plastic baggies.
“Don’t trust our ability to cook a decent meal?” Octavia asked sarcastically and unsmiling.
“It’s protocol.” I smiled at her and nodded for Jonah to continue.
“You all can consume it however you like,” he started. “It just has to be in front of us.”
“There’s garlic in the stew,” Esther said flatly.
“Nice, but…” Jonah tried to laugh to keep things light. “These are ours and the only way we can confirm you all are not…”
“Possessed or something equally terrifying,” Wilson finished for him and held his hand up for the bags. “There’s a what? Nine percent chance of that? Well, according to a recent study by Nathan Lowe.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, perking up. “How do you know Nathan Lowe?”
“You cited him in your book.” Wilson smiled. With the garlic and rosemary in hand, he wheeled over to the counter where a cutting board lay.
“Yeah, but only once and never that study,” I said. “It’s too new.”
Wilson diced up the ingredients as he said, “I may have found a couple of leaked papers on some questionable websites. Nothing peer-reviewed, so I’m forced to take everything with a grain of salt. It’s fascinating nonetheless.”
“He has enough notes to write his own novel,” Octavia said.
“Huh.” I nodded, noting not only the leak but Wilson’s desire to find it. Of course, his interest in solving his problem wouldn’t be casual, but I didn’t expect a client to have done such an obscure deep dive. “There isn’t an official percentage. You can’t really quantify these kinds of things.”
“And yet, isn’t that your entire job?” Octavia laid mismatched plates on the table. Some were lumpy, handmade, and painted with colorful flowers. Others were plain white, chipped on the sides as if rubbed against one another one too many times in a moving box.
“No, unfortunately, that’s above my pay grade.” I picked up the stack of utensils she’d left behind and followed her trail of plates. The air in her wake smelled sweet, a mix of apple spice and pinecones. I took deeper breaths. “I mainly speculate and solve problems in the now.”
“It must have been incredible to be on the road while growing up.” Wilson dropped the chopped garlic in one bowl and the rosemary in the other.
“We grew up on the road,” Octavia reminded him in a flat tone.
“Not like them.” Her brother offered thegarlic to Esther first. When she tried to put it into the stew, I opened my mouth to disapprove, but Wilson beat me to the punch.
“We’re supposed to just chew it,” he said and took his share, plopping a couple of bits into his mouth. Jonah and I exchanged impressed glances as the two consumed the garlic without so much as a grimace.
