and Café, with a big painted cutout of a black bear holding the day’s chalkboard menu. He realized it was right across the street from Russ’s car care complex, a detail he had completely missed in the craziness of the previous night.
“Let’s get some coffee and a sandwich, I’ll answer any of your questions, and then I want to make sure we at least walk as far as the big hotel and the beach. It’s worth it,” Jeffries promised.
The coffee shop had forest green clapboard siding, with red trim on the shutters and door. Most of the buildings that Liam had seen so far were wooden and looked to be repurposed from previous uses, which gave the town a sense of history and preserved ties to its past.
“Hi, Sherri,” Jeffries greeted the woman behind the counter.
Sherri flicked a loose strand of brown hair out of her eyes and smiled broadly. “Hey there, Rich. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Liam Reynard, the new head librarian,” Jeffries replied. “I’ve been bragging to him about your coffee and sandwiches, so I figured I’d better bring him here to find out for himself.”
“You have come to the right place,” Sherri told Liam, leaning over the counter as if imparting a secret. “There’s no better coffee in these mountains between here and Canada.”
Sherri’s smile lit up the room. She had an ample, curvy build that reminded Liam of a classical Greek statue. “Tell me what you want—choices are up on the board; Rich can give you his opinions—and then get a table and we’ll bring it out to you.”
They discussed the combinations and placed their orders, then Liam followed Jeffries to a table off to one side, where they could speak with a degree of privacy.
“Sherri and Nelson are the cousins of Torben Armel, the town sheriff,” Jeffries said. “Bear shifters.”
“With the Institute and the shifters, how much of the town…isn’t?”
Jeffries chuckled. “If I had to guess, I’d say about a quarter aren’t either psychic or a shifter. But those folks are usually here because there’s still a tie to the supernatural. They might be witches, Wiccan, pagan—the Old Ways. Or they’re married to someone who is a paranormal, or have a family member who is.”
He dropped his voice. “We love to have visitors. But we try hard to make sure Fox Hollow remains a sanctuary for the people who need it, so we don’t encourage relocation as a general rule.”
Liam raised an eyebrow.” What made you take a chance on me?”
“I knew you’d fit in here,” Jeffries said with a shrug. “Fox Hollow is a place for people who need a home. The legends around how the town got founded say that it was started by a pair of shifters who were best friends but were different types of animals. For that, they were exiled from their homes. They came here and made a camp. Little by little, other misfit shifters found their way to Fox Hollow, predators and prey animals, carnivores, omnivores, and herbivores. All different—except for the one thing they had in common: that they didn’t fit in with their own kind.”
Jeffries grinned. “We have one strict rule in Fox Hollow—don’t eat your neighbors. So I don’t think you’ll have any trouble feeling at home here.” He sighed. “And I had a premonition that you were going to need a place to go.”
Liam met the man’s gaze, trying to guess how much the psychic knew. His admission confirmed Liam’s suspicion that the well-timed offer hadn’t been a coincidence.
“I appreciate that,” he said, knowing that he should come clean with Jeffries about the Huntsman, but unwilling to do so in a public place.
I’ll tell him later. I need to go sign papers. That’ll be a good time.
Jeffries filled him in on the town’s many events, as well as what to expect in tourist season. Liam listened intently and asked plenty of questions, already coming up with new ideas for the library to engage visitors around the themes of reading and art.
“What about hunting season?” Liam asked. “That’s got to be a danger.”
Jeffries nodded. “Between the Institute and some of the town’s old founding families, there’s a fifty-mile radius of privately-owned land that surrounds the town and is posted ‘No Hunting or Trapping.’ No birds or mammals may be harmed, although fishing is permitted.”
Another of Liam’s concerns melted away. He was just about to ask another question when Sherri bustled up with a tray.
“Reuben on house-made rye with a house-made pickle and small-batch kettle chips,”