The wait staff at The Soda Jerk was back to its post summer numbers, one busboy and the two waitresses I’d known all my life. Margie spotted me first and whisked me off to her section, which was fine with me. Her counterpart was often brusque and stingy with a smile.
“There are only two people you’d come out for in this weather,” Margie said, seating me at a booth away from the draft of the door. “Who is it today—Elise or Travis?”
“Travis,” I said with a grin. “I’ll bet you know all the secrets in this town, don’t you?”
“Who me?” she said with a wink. “How about I whip you up a cup of hot cocoa?”
“You twisted my arm, though to be honest, it didn’t take much twisting.”
“One cocoa, double whipped cream coming up.”
The door opened and Travis walked in, making my heart trip into the little jig it reserved for him. I waved and caught his eye, but no acknowledging smile lit his face as he headed toward me. He got to the booth as Margie was setting the cocoa in front of me. She must have seen his eyes widen at the sight of it. “Can I get you one too, Mr. TV?”
“Another time, Margie, I’ll stick to coffee, thanks.” He slid into the booth across from me, looking harried; his thick hair was wind-tossed and stubble darkened his cheeks. “Mind if we order right away?” he asked me, before Margie could leave.
“No, that’s fine.” I knew the menu by heart anyway. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup combo.”
Travis handed Margie the unopened menus. “Make it two.” He usually engaged in a little banter with Margie, but today he was all business. It derailed me.
“I’ll put a rush on it,” Margie said. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised by his behavior. She’d waitressed enough years that she could read people and situations better than most psychologists.
“What’s wrong?” I asked after she left.
“A friend of mine’s gone missing,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was worried or puzzled.
“Oh Travis, I’m so sorry. Are the two of you very close?”
“I’ve known Ryan since high school.”
I sensed there was more to it, but I didn’t want to press him on it. “Have you notified the police?”
“The police won’t act on a missing person’s report for an adult, until the person’s been gone for at least forty-eight hours.”
“That’s crazy,” I said.
“Not really. Can you imagine what it would be like if you could call the police and send them searching for everyone who’s late arriving somewhere? Or isn’t answering their cell? Besides, there’s a fine line between protecting people and keeping tabs on them.”
“I didn’t think of it that way,” I said, still far from convinced that forty-eight hours was a reasonable amount of time to wait.
Travis’s coffee arrived by busboy. While he was adding sweetener, I took a sip of my cocoa. When I looked up again, he was smiling. “A white moustache is a great look for you.” I grabbed my napkin and wiped it off. “Way to win a girl over with compliments.” The moment of levity felt good, but it couldn’t last beneath the weight of Travis’s distress. “You’re certain Ryan is missing?”
“Yes, if you knew him, you’d understand. He digs for stories that might be better left unearthed. Stories that can get him killed. And he has a bad habit of trusting the wrong people. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s needed to be rescued.”
“We needed a little rescuing ourselves not too long ago,” I said, thinking of our last case. “Things aren’t always as dire and hopeless as they seem.”
“But we had a secret weapon—he doesn’t.”
There was a time when the idea of real magick sent him running from me, and now my family’s magick had become his secret weapon. Talk about zero to sixty in a flash.
Margie arrived with our lunches, gooey cheese and steaming soup. “Enjoy,” she said, off to the mailman who was beckoning her. I took a bite of my sandwich; Travis took two, polishing off half of his.
“When did you start looking for Ryan?” I asked.
“Six p.m. yesterday,” he replied between spoonfuls of soup. “We were supposed to meet for an early dinner in Watkins Glen. He never showed. Doesn’t answer his cell. I started with all his usual haunts—nobody’s seen him. I’ve been driving around in widening circles, checking everywhere the road drops off, every place his car could be hidden in woods or dense brush.”
I nibbled on my sandwich, no longer hungry. “Have you slept or eaten since then?”
“I catnapped in my car for an hour or two before the sun came up. And I had a couple of donuts and lots of coffee.” He looked up at me. The naked pain in his eyes made my heart ache. He managed a lop-sided smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m fine. Believe me. I’ve survived on less.” He checked his watch and stuffed the last of the sandwich into his mouth.
“Go, it’s okay,” I said. “Lunch is on me. Just please be careful.”
He gulped down the coffee, then reached across the table for my hand before turning it over to plant a lingering kiss on my palm. As kisses go, it was a lot more effective than I would have thought. He ran his finger along the side of my face, and I wanted to grab his hand and hold him there a little longer. “I’ll call you.”
“You’d better,” I said, “or I’ll be out there searching for you.” I’d meant it to sound playful, to lighten his heart for a moment, but my voice cracked. “Good luck and stay safe,” I murmured as he walked away.
Chapter 2
“You’re back!” Merlin said, swooping down on me as I returned from my abbreviated lunch. I peeled off my cold weather gear and stepped behind the counter to stow my purse.
“Make haste, make haste,” he urged me a good seven times before he added, “It’s Matilda. She is in dire need of you.”
“Why didn’t you say that first?” I yelled, running for the connecting door to her shop. I had visions of her on the floor, stricken with a heart attack or stroke, a broken hip or horrible burns. I was so geared for disaster that it took my brain a moment to reboot when I nearly collided with her. There wasn’t a drop of blood on her, not a red curl out of place. She was beaming at me, a doily covered tray of Linzer tarts in her hands.
“You scared me half to death!” I snapped at Merlin when he caught up to me, panting like he’d run a marathon.
“Well…ah…hmm…” he stammered. “You see, Tilly, dear woman that she is, wished to present you with this gift of her love and gratitude. She was waiting and waiting for you, after standing on her poor aching feet for hours baking these magnificent confections.”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “Poppycock, he was distraught when I told him he couldn’t have a tart until you did. As you are aware, his highness is sorely lacking in patience.”
Not what I wanted to hear, since I was uncomfortably stuffed from lunch. I must have been caught up in Travis’s nervous energy, because I’d bolted my food too. I felt like half of it was still stuck in my throat. As beautiful and tempting as the tarts were, they would have to wait a few hours. But Merlin looked so eager for one I didn’t have the heart to make him wait any longer. I sat down at the elegant tea table my aunt had set and selected a tart with raspberry jam. Tilly and Merlin took apricot ones, after which Tilly poured her homemade ginger peach tea.
I sipped my tea and told my aunt about the cold weather patrons at The Soda Jerk. The wizard didn’t take