Page 14 of Woodland Web

I pulled out my mini-planner, the one I kept in my purse. “What are you doing a week from tonight? Come over to dinner. You can meet my cats and husband, we can talk or watch a movie.”

He seemed surprised. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course. I like you, and I like talking to you. I should have invited you and your wife over before, but it’s been a rough past year and I’m afraid I didn’t have the spoons to go around. I’ve developed a chronic illness, and I am managing it but it was really hard in the beginning.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. If you want, feel free to talk about it, but I won’t pressure you.” He consulted his calendar. “I can make it on the fourth. Sevenish? Can you drink wine?”

“I can drink a little but it’s better if I don’t, given the herbs I’m on. But if you’d like to bring dessert—we’re always open to a good dessert.” I jotted down the note that Charles would be coming to dinner at seven p.m. on Saturday, May fourth.

“I make a mean tiramisu,” he said.

“That sounds fantastic. Okay…” I took a deep breath. “I came in to ask if you might know anything about the sluagh. I need you to keep this quiet, please.”

“Of course,” Charles said. “I give you my word.”

“Thanks, it’s more important than you know. There’s one loose around town and…through a long series of mishaps, it’s up to me to destroy it.”

“Ah, the sluagh. Well, January, if you’re tasked with destroying it, you’re in for a rough fight. I’ll need a little while to do some research. Can I call you tomorrow?” He jotted down a note on his notepad.

“Of course. That would be great. I should be off.” I paused, then said, “I’m meeting one of the Fae tomorrow, Charles. I ended up having to ask him for a favor and now it’s being called in—that’s why I have to find and destroy the sluagh. Do you have any advice for me when I go talk to him?”

Charles slowly withdrew his glasses. “Oh, dear. That’s a sticky wicket. All right, my best advice for you: think over everything you say before you say it.”

“I know enough not to thank them,” I said. “Is there any other phrase that might get me in trouble, besides ‘Can you help me?’ ”

Charles stared at me for a moment. “My dear, the only advice I can give in good conscience is to skip the meeting. But I also understand that, if summoned, you must attend. Be aware of every word that comes out of your mouth. Listen to every word the Fae says. Every single word can be nuanced and have multiple meanings. Go and may the gods be with you. And I will see you at seven on the fourth. Thank you, for humoring a lonely old man.”

“I’m not humoring you, and you might be older and lonely, but you’re far more than that.” I paused, then added, “Would you be offended if I gave you a hug?”

His face crinkled, his lips turning up for the first time in our talk. His eyes were watery. “I think I’d like that,” he said.

I stepped around his desk and gave him a gentle hug, and while he was cautious in returning it, I could feel the need for touch, the need for a hug or a kiss. I leaned up and gently kissed his cheek. “We’ll see you a week from tonight. Call me if you need directions, but it’s easy to find. I’ll text you the address.” I gathered my things and left.

* * *

By the time I got home, it was time to prepare dinner.

I cleared off the dining room table—that’s where we held our game nights. Then I pulled out all the ingredients that I’d prepared that morning and began to assemble the lasagna. I glanced at the clock. It was five, and they were supposed to be here by seven. I tucked the lasagna back in the fridge, covered with clear plastic cling. I’d take it out at five-thirty and pop it in the oven at six. It would be piping hot and ready by the time they arrived.

Next, I prepared the lemon poundcake mix. While it was baking, I tossed the blueberries in a pot with some sugar and lemon, and began to slowly simmer it so that it reduced. The compote came together without a problem. Finally, I poured it into a dish and set it in the fridge. By then, the cake was done and I turned the loaf pan over, sliding the poundcake out of the tin. I set it on a rack on the counter and slid the lasagna in the oven. Food prep, done.

I was just finishing up with the cake when Killian came through the kitchen door. He caught me up in his arms and kissed me, then sniffed.

“It smells heavenly in here. Ooo, cake!” He reached for the poundcake and I smacked his hand.

“Not till dinner. Hey, I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. Can you set the table while I go change clothes?”

“Sure,” he said, kissing me again. “Go. Change. But hurry, so I can change too.”

I dashed into our bedroom and slipped out of my clothes, taking a couple moments to rinse off under the shower, then slid into a pair of palazzo pants and a silky tank top. It was a matching set—cobalt blue with gold and black geometrical designs. I fixed my makeup and brushed my hair back, and settled on a pair of silver satin block-heel slides.

As I entered the kitchen, Killian whistled. “You look good enough to eat.” His eyes twinkled as he added, “Maybe that can be arranged later?”

I winked at him. “Sounds good. But for now, go get gussied up for your sister and her husband.”

“Gussied up? I don’t live on the prairie, love.”

“No, but I like the word,” I said, grinning as he took off for the bedroom.

---