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Authors: Debora Geary
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wrong with you, girl? I can hear your belly growling from my kitchen, and your mind is flat-out exhausted.”
Lizard threw herself on the mercy of the gooey heart behind the bite. “Feed me, please? All we have is yogurt. Tastes like boogers.”
Caro snorted in amusement. “Come on in, then. I’ve got some pretty good stuffed-manicotti leftovers—I’ll warm you up a plate. Better than boogers, anyhow.” She turned and headed back to her kitchen, leaving the door open.
Anything Caro baked hit at least delicious on Lizard’s personal food scale. She followed down the hallway, already drooling. “Can I take it to go? I have a crapload of work to get done before this afternoon.”
“Don’t you dare ditch the water-balloon fight.” Caro rummaged in her fridge. “Not after recruiting me to your team.”
She hadn’t really been considering it. Not seriously. Lizard rested her head in her hands. “I’ll be there. But I have an essay to write, five hundred pages to read, and a house contract to write up before then.”
Caro looked up from the light flame on her palm she was using to heat a plate of food. “You sell a house?”
“Maybe.” Totally. Geek boy had fallen in lust about three seconds after she opened the door to the townhouse. “But he wants to pay cash, and I have to look up how to do that.” She scowled. How come she got all the hard clients?
“Don’t you have a boss to help you with that stuff?”
“I don’t want to bug her.”
“Don’t be a silly witch.” A plate thunked down in front of Lizard’s seat. “Here, eat this. Maybe it will get your brain working right again.”
The smells nearly sucked her nose right into the plate. The first bite and her stomach wanted to marry Caro. “Thanks. I’ll send something over the next time we have good leftovers.” Whenever she had a chance to cook again. Elsie’s muffins had been edible, but kind of a strange texture.
“Since when do I ask for a trade in exchange for feeding you?”
Lizard ducked as annoyance returned to Caro’s mind with a vengeance. “Sorry. I’m a little punchy.”
“I know.” Caro’s hand on her hair was gentle. “I can feel it. You can’t keep up this pace—you know that, right?”
Yeah, she did. She just had no idea which of the totally required tasks on her list to blow off.
Chapter 6
––––––––––––––
To: [email protected]
From: Jennie Adams < [email protected] >
Subject: One tired witch.
––––––––––––––
Dear Vero,
I’ve checked in with my witch spy network. Reports are quite consistent.
Lizard is running herself into the ground—Melvin is right to be concerned. She was one of the first to recover from the flu that hit all of us, and spent the next several days feeding Witch Central. Now she’s back at work and at school, and if my sources are correct (and they usually are), she’s not sleeping, barely eating, and doing an excellent imitation of a workaholic.
This from a girl who used to randomly disappear instead of showing up for work.
I’m not entirely sure how to intervene yet. There is a water-balloon fight in a couple of hours. We shall see what happens when our workaholic is presented with a bit of mindless fun. And since I’m on her team, she’d better show up.
Elsie would be a workaholic if we gave her enough to do, but we’re quite intentionally trying to keep her plate clear of obligations. She needs some time to explore who she is. At the moment, she’s chief organizer of Jamie’s water-balloon team—and given his general cockiness on the subject, she’s either doing a marvelous job or a hopeless one (my nephew has been known to bluff on occasion). He’s currently running pretty bad odds in the betting pool, so most assume he’s bluffing. I’m not so sure—and not willing to bet against my
Lizard threw herself on the mercy of the gooey heart behind the bite. “Feed me, please? All we have is yogurt. Tastes like boogers.”
Caro snorted in amusement. “Come on in, then. I’ve got some pretty good stuffed-manicotti leftovers—I’ll warm you up a plate. Better than boogers, anyhow.” She turned and headed back to her kitchen, leaving the door open.
Anything Caro baked hit at least delicious on Lizard’s personal food scale. She followed down the hallway, already drooling. “Can I take it to go? I have a crapload of work to get done before this afternoon.”
“Don’t you dare ditch the water-balloon fight.” Caro rummaged in her fridge. “Not after recruiting me to your team.”
She hadn’t really been considering it. Not seriously. Lizard rested her head in her hands. “I’ll be there. But I have an essay to write, five hundred pages to read, and a house contract to write up before then.”
Caro looked up from the light flame on her palm she was using to heat a plate of food. “You sell a house?”
“Maybe.” Totally. Geek boy had fallen in lust about three seconds after she opened the door to the townhouse. “But he wants to pay cash, and I have to look up how to do that.” She scowled. How come she got all the hard clients?
“Don’t you have a boss to help you with that stuff?”
“I don’t want to bug her.”
“Don’t be a silly witch.” A plate thunked down in front of Lizard’s seat. “Here, eat this. Maybe it will get your brain working right again.”
The smells nearly sucked her nose right into the plate. The first bite and her stomach wanted to marry Caro. “Thanks. I’ll send something over the next time we have good leftovers.” Whenever she had a chance to cook again. Elsie’s muffins had been edible, but kind of a strange texture.
“Since when do I ask for a trade in exchange for feeding you?”
Lizard ducked as annoyance returned to Caro’s mind with a vengeance. “Sorry. I’m a little punchy.”
“I know.” Caro’s hand on her hair was gentle. “I can feel it. You can’t keep up this pace—you know that, right?”
Yeah, she did. She just had no idea which of the totally required tasks on her list to blow off.
Chapter 6
––––––––––––––
To: [email protected]
From: Jennie Adams < [email protected] >
Subject: One tired witch.
––––––––––––––
Dear Vero,
I’ve checked in with my witch spy network. Reports are quite consistent.
Lizard is running herself into the ground—Melvin is right to be concerned. She was one of the first to recover from the flu that hit all of us, and spent the next several days feeding Witch Central. Now she’s back at work and at school, and if my sources are correct (and they usually are), she’s not sleeping, barely eating, and doing an excellent imitation of a workaholic.
This from a girl who used to randomly disappear instead of showing up for work.
I’m not entirely sure how to intervene yet. There is a water-balloon fight in a couple of hours. We shall see what happens when our workaholic is presented with a bit of mindless fun. And since I’m on her team, she’d better show up.
Elsie would be a workaholic if we gave her enough to do, but we’re quite intentionally trying to keep her plate clear of obligations. She needs some time to explore who she is. At the moment, she’s chief organizer of Jamie’s water-balloon team—and given his general cockiness on the subject, she’s either doing a marvelous job or a hopeless one (my nephew has been known to bluff on occasion). He’s currently running pretty bad odds in the betting pool, so most assume he’s bluffing. I’m not so sure—and not willing to bet against my
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