Francine was visibly shocked to hear a woman older than herself curse. But she hurried to agree with Denise. “You do get tired of doing the housework after so many years. I never thought I’d say that.” She smiled, which looked odd on Francine.

“That’s why I come down here,” Denise said, and Fiji silently said, Thanks, Denise. “Gets me to thinking about new things.”

Francine looked blank.

“Spiritual-type things,” Fiji explained. “Reading material for people seeking to expand their consciousness. Meditation techniques.”

“Well. I can’t imagine being interested in those things.” Francine’s face went from bewildered to embarrassed. “Not to be rude, I’ve been a Baptist all my life.”

Since the ill-assorted trio seemed to have reached a conversational standstill, Fiji said, “I know you must have other things to do, so I’m grateful you stopped by today to let me know you’re all right.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Francine said. She was on firmer ground here, since she was on her way out the door.

“You take your time getting back to full speed,” Fiji advised. “But we’d be glad to see you again any time.” She gave a considerable shove of her will when she said this, and Francine stiffened.

“Well, you have a nice day,” Francine said by way of bidding them farewell. When she’d gotten safely in her car and driven away—back toward Davy, Fiji watched to be sure—Fiji made a cup of coffee for Denise, and they sat and had a long chatter. Fiji didn’t have anything pressing to do, and she liked Denise. So she listened to Denise’s stories about her courtship and widowhood, and she confirmed that the new woman in Midnight was her sister, and she agreed that Lenore Whitefield, who managed the hotel, was a stick in the mud.

It was clear that whatever was brewing in their little community, it had not yet affected Denise.

Fiji was relieved, and wondered how long that would last.

She felt a lingering guilt about Francine Owens. Fiji didn’t believe Francine had ever done anything awful in her life. (Being persnickety in a grocery store hardly counted.) Yet Francine, for an unknown reason, had been drawn in by the Evil Thing and very nearly committed suicide—a lifetime of propriety thrown away because she’d been targeted by something wicked.

During her conversation with Denise, Fiji turned the corner from being frightened to being angry. She had to force herself to pay attention and make appropriate responses to Denise’s remarks. By the time the older woman had left, Fiji was calmer. That was a good thing, since Kiki came back from her excursion to the Antique Gallery and Nail Salon with so much news that they might as well have been in a city. First, Fiji had to admire Kiki’s fingernails, which were truly beautiful. Chuy always did a great job. Kiki planned to return for a pedicure the next day. “No point getting everything done at one time,” she snorted. “Since fun here is not a big commodity.”

“Feel free to go back to Houston any time,” Fiji said. That stopped Kiki dead in her conversational tracks. “Oh, you know what I mean,” she said, with assumed gaiety. “Anyway, I stopped in the Gas N Go on my way back, because I was looking for something to munch on.”

Didn’t want to hurry back to talk to her sister, Fiji translated. “And you won’t believe who’s running the Gas N Go! Just started a couple of days ago!”

“Who?” Fiji was actually curious about the guy, because she hadn’t heard any report on him yet.

“Well, he’s a full-blooded Native American. . . .”

“What tribe?”

“I don’t know, and it seemed a little rude to ask him,” Kiki said, which was inexplicable to Fiji. “But the thing is, he’s gorgeous! In kind of an inscrutable way. And maybe he’s a little rough around the edges. But he’s got the long black hair and the copper skin and the manly man thing going for him. Yum!”

“Huh. What’s his name?”

“Here’s the kicker. Sylvester!” Kiki widened her eyes. “Have you ever met a real person named Sylvester?”

“No,” Fiji said truthfully. “Sylvester what?”

“Something Indian,” Kiki said. “Like Bearclaw, or something.”

“That really is interesting,” Fiji agreed. “Well, I hope he stays a while. I assume he’s living in the house that comes with the store?”

Kiki nodded vigorously. “I think so. And he said he was going to look for someone to work part time so he wouldn’t be spending sixteen hours a day there.”

“That would be pretty awful.” Gas N Go had been limited while Teacher Reed had been in charge, because Teacher simply refused to work that many hours. And he hadn’t found anyone to split the shift with—at least, anyone who lasted more than a week.

“Maybe he’ll bring in someone just as hunky,” Kiki said.

“Or maybe his wife.” Fiji was willing to concede this was a little mean of her, but Kiki seemed determined to rub her the wrong way. Ordinarily, Fiji would be quite interested in a hunky new guy at the convenience store. She had to admit that Kiki made her feel contrary. This was not a huge revelation.

“He didn’t mention a wife, and he didn’t have on a wedding ring,” Kiki said triumphantly.

“Well, that’s good news,” Fiji said, scolding herself severely.

“What did you do while I was gone?” her sister asked. She looked at Fiji in the bright-eyed expectation that Fiji would have done absolutely nothing.

“Had a couple of customers, talked to them,” Fiji said. “Sold some stuff.” Denise had bought a book about star signs.

“Oh. Well, good!” Kiki fidgeted around some more, going through the stack of magazines on the table between the two wicker chairs, picking up this item or that item and examining it, only to return it to not-exactly-the-right place.

“So,” Kiki said, when she’d exhausted the possibilities of the store, “what do you think Quinn’s doing now?”

“Probably visiting with Diederik, because that’s what he came here to do,” Fiji said. “Or if Diederik’s busy, Quinn’s working up in his hotel room on his laptop.”

“Why would Diederik be busy?”

“He has a couple of . . . jobs,” Fiji said. “He helps the Rev out. And he works over at the hotel doing janitor work in the evenings.”