Page 18 of Justice & Liberty

9

After Hayes left,I was still ready to blow a fuse, so I went back to stare aimlessly at the book wall for a while longer. Books were always calming, unlike douchebag lawyers who cared more about getting paid than lovely women who had tragically—and recently—lost their lives.

I grabbed a book at random and started reading, not really processing the words as much as skimming them, letting the familiar patterns of black and cream soothe my mind.

Slowly, I became aware that it was a book on how to read tarot cards, something I’d known how to do since I was a child. I might not have ever believed in magic, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t know thoughtful reflection was a useful tool.

I was just getting into a charming explanation of how no one got to tell you how to read your cards, and your instinct was always right, when there was a tapping on the front door.

Again.

I turned, ready to huff in anger or ignore whoever was bothering me this time, but...well, it was Mona Brighton,one of the lunch ladies down at the local elementary school. I couldn’t count the number of times she’d seen me coming and replaced the standard mushy gray-green canned peas that were part of lunch with literally anything else. Not because I was allergic. Just because she knew I hated them.

I wasn’t going to be mad at a sweet old lady who went out of her way to help kids.

So I set the book aside and went to the door, again, unlocking it and pulling it open.

She was wearing a T-shirt and capri pants with sandals, despite it being about fifty degrees outside, and even more weirdly, carrying a chicken in her arms. She was also biting her lip, downcast and immediately apologetic when I opened the door. “I’m terribly sorry for bothering you, Jaycie, I’m sure you’re busy, but I saw you were in here, and I had to come ask. I...I can’t seem to sleep without that tea your momma made, not with how my feet are always hurting these days. Is there any chance I could bother you for some?”

“The bedtime tea?” I asked, and she continued to stare at the ground, but she did nod. I remembered quite vividly that while it was mostly empty, it wasn’t entirely gone. “Just a second,” I told her, turning back to the main counter, sliding behind it and grabbing one of the paper tea bags. I poured what remained into the bag, just a few ounces, wrote the name of the tea on the paper, and turned to head back to the door. “This is all I’ve got left right now. I haven’t really...that is, I’ve got the recipes, but I’ve never made it by myself. I don’t know if I’ll be as good at it as Mom was.”

She gave me a wide, watery smile, nodding. “That’s how we all feel when we lose our mommas, sweetheart. I promise you, you’ll do fine. She was so proud of you.”

My breath caught at the very thought of it. Of Mom telling people she was proud of me. “Thank you Mona. I...I’m notsure what I’m going to do yet, but I’ll try to keep up with the tea. Promise.”

I held the bag out to her, expecting a whole conversation about money, to which I intended to tell her that I didn’t have the point of sale system up and running, so I couldn’t take her cash. More than that, I expected her to tuck the chicken under her arm to take the bag, but instead she sort of...switched the items, like she was Indiana Jones and I was a booby trap in an ancient tomb.

Suddenly I was holding a chicken, and Mona was standing there with a little bag of tea in both hands. “Thank you so much, sweetheart,” she said, beaming at me.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving me holding a fluffy orange chicken.

What the hell had just happened?

10

There was a chicken.

It was a golden orange color with beady black eyes, and didn’t seem the least bit stressed out by being handed to a stranger and carted off for a car ride.

The ridiculousness of it all kept running circles in my head as I carried the thing out of my shop. As I put it in the backseat of my car. As I drove, glancing repeatedly into the rearview mirror to look at it.

A chicken.

What the heck was I supposed to do with a chicken?

It had been intended as payment for the tea, quite clearly.

But what did I know about chickens?

Was a few ounces of tea even worth a chicken?

How much was a chicken worth?

I felt like somehow, I’d gotten the better end of this deal, and I should give Mona some more tea, except...what the hell did I evenwantwith a chicken?

I pulled into the garage, and leaving the door open, took the chicken out of the SUV’s backseat and walked outside with her. All chickens were “her,” right? If it were a boy, it’dbe a rooster, and that would be obvious, and probably annoying, what with the noise.

I walked around to the backyard, which was thankfully fenced in, at least mostly. But...well, an industrious chicken could get out of that fence, I was pretty sure. It was made up of wooden slats, and they had gaps between them, so I was pretty sure a chicken could figure that out.

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