Moonlight Masquerade Read online

  “I don’t know how you do that,” he said.

  “I don’t know how you give life to people.”

  Reede grunted. “This morning I had three cases of hives, one of an ‘itchy place,’ and a pulled muscle. On a daily basis, it’s not exactly an exciting job.”

  Sophie couldn’t help frowning. “But the people need you.”

  “What they want is my cousin Tristan, who is part therapist.”

  “You mean that he listens to them?”

  “Yeah,” Reede said. “He listens. Done?”

  She wrote ‘Brittany’ into the clay and put the little giraffe on the dashboard so it could begin drying.

  The grocery was very high end and she was impressed. “I think I’ll need a place a little more . . . uh, human than this one.”

  “Don’t worry, Sara’s mother, Ellie, owns the store and she’ll arrange whatever you need. Hey! I know. I’ll get Sara to send Mr. Lang to you.”

  “I thought you liked this girl,” said a pretty, older woman from behind a tall glass deli case. “You can’t sic Mr. Lang on her.”

  “Sara will keep him in check, and besides, the old man likes pretty girls.”

  “Then he’ll like you,” she said to Sophie and extended her hand over the top of the counter. “I’m Ellie and Mr. Lang is . . . ” She looked at Reede. “How do you describe him?”

  “Healthy,” Reede said. “I have thirty-year-olds who aren’t in as good a shape as he is.” He looked at Sophie. “Mr. Lang is over ninety.”

  “Must come from a lifetime of driving people crazy.” Ellie didn’t seem to be joking.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Sophie said. “He sounds interesting.”

  “Whatever he is, he grows the best vegetables in the state. If he likes you he’ll sell them to you directly.” Ellie was straightening the counter as she spoke.

  “That sounds like a challenge,” Sophie said. “Any suggestions on how to make him like me?”

  “Throw a box over him,” Reede said, and he and Ellie laughed. “I’ll tell you the story later,” he told Sophie.

  “So what can I get for you two today?” Ellie asked. “I hear you’re doing soup and sandwiches at your new shop. How about desserts?”

  “No thanks. I have too much to do already.” Sophie started to say something about Roan’s ridiculous ad but he was their relative so she didn’t dare.

  But Ellie didn’t hesitate. “How are your creative employees doing?”

  “I liked the talented aspect,” Reede said. “This morning my whole office was giggling about it. Heather said her best talent was doing a backbend over a picnic table.”

  Ellie and Sophie looked at him.

  “I don’t think I was supposed to hear that.”

  “I think not,” Sophie said.

  “So now to get my foot out of my mouth,” Reede said, “we need some butter . . . It’s something orange.”

  Ellie looked at Sophie in question.

  “Butternut squash,” she said. “He likes that soup.”

  “What’s the name of your restaurant?” Ellie asked.

  “I haven’t thought of that,” Sophie answered, but lying made her glance away.

  “Anything to do with doctors?” Ellie asked.

  Sophie laughed. It looked like Roan had told what she’d said about naming it No Doctors Allowed. She glanced at Reede. “Maybe I should name it Now and Then.” She and Ellie looked at each other and laughed.

  “I don’t think I’m needed here,” Reede said, but he was smiling.

  “You poor thing. You want your usual?” Ellie asked.

  “Sure.” Reede looked at Sophie. “What sandwich do you want?”

  “Brie and cranberries,” she said, then looked up. “Oh. Sorry. I keep coming up with ideas for soup and sandwiches. I’ll take chicken on whole wheat. And—” Breaking off, she blinked a few times. “Phoenix. I’m going to name the restaurant Phoenix because . . . ” She trailed off.

  “Rising from the ashes,” Reede said as he took her hand and squeezed it.

  She smiled at him in thanks for understanding.

  “You two are steaming up the glass,” Ellie said, but her voice was pure happiness. “I’ll get the sandwiches while you fill your carts. Your prices won’t be retail and it’ll all be charged to Roan.”

  “Thank you,” Sophie said. “Thank you very much.”

  Ellie looked at Sophie, with a brief glance at Reede. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “Hate to break up the hen party but I have to get back to work. Who knows? Somebody may have a paper cut that I’ll have to tape together.”

  “I wish I could find a pill that would sweeten you up,” Ellie said, then looked at Sophie as though to say that was her job.

  Sophie put her hands up, palms out, and took a step back. Roan had said that she was, well, helping Reede’s bad temper, but it looked like it wasn’t much.

  “See you later.” Ellie disappeared behind the case.

  Reede got a cart and they went to the produce section. Sophie didn’t have a list with her but she knew what she needed to make about four big pots of soup—which should be enough for a day in a tiny town like Edilean.

  “How bad are you?” she asked Reede as she put yellow onions in a bag.

  “As a doctor? If the case is significant, I don’t think I’m bad at all.”

  “No, I mean your bedside manner.”

  Reede scoffed. “I’m not willing to sit there and listen all day if that’s what you mean. Do you need mushrooms?”

  “Yes. Make sure the heads are closed. Why did the people have hives? From allergies? Three people in the same day? Were they related?”

  Reede put mushrooms in a bag. “I can’t really talk about individual patients.”

  “Sure, I understand,” she said. “I just wondered because there have been a few times in my life when stress made me break into hives. When my mother died and I realized I couldn’t leave town to take my sculpting job, my whole body was covered in ugly red patches. They went up my neck and into my hair. My doctor spent twenty minutes with me while I cried.”

  “What did he give you for them?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said, “but he told me that every day I was to drink a glass of wine and laugh at least once.”

  “And did you?” Reede asked.

  “No. But I wish I had. Where’s the dairy section?”

  “That way,” Reede said and he was thoughtful as he followed her.

  “I asked them why the hell they had hives.”

  “Surely you didn’t say it like that, did you?

  “I did because I knew exactly what the problem was—or I thought I did. One woman had cat hairs all over her sweater. I’ve told her three times that she’s allergic to cats and to stay away from them.”

  “But she loves cats,” Sophie said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And the other woman?”

  “Same, but with strawberries. She dips them in chocolate, eats them, then scratches. When it gets too bad she comes to me.”

  “What about the last woman?”

  Reede was silent for a moment. “She was different. When I asked her what was wrong she burst into tears.”

  “At the way you asked her?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But there was method to my madness. Hives are an indication of something else. It might be something self-caused like playing with the neighbor’s cats, or it might be from stress. If it’s stress, sometimes they won’t tell me unless . . . ” He looked at her.

  “Unless you catch them off guard.”

  “Right. She didn’t have time to remember her lie.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I can’t tell you the details of the case, but I sent Alice with her to a women’s shelter in Richmond and I called the sheriff, Colin. He’ll take care of the rest of it.”

  “And you said you had a boring morning.”

  “Tristan would have—”

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