Huntsman - Morgan Brice Page 0,24
she said, setting a plate in front of Liam. “And to answer your question from up front—yes, the PBBJ sandwich is amazing. Peanut butter, banana, and jelly, we grind our own nut butter, and the jellies and jams are locally made.”
Liam gave a moan of joy. “That makes me so happy. Other sandwiches can be phenomenal, but nothing compares to an awesome PB&J. It’s the most perfect combination in the universe.”
Sherri and Jeffries chuckled at his enthusiastic reaction. “Well aren’t you the sweetest thing?” Sherri clucked. “Tell you what, next time, try the PBBJ and let me know what you think.”
Liam blushed, while his fox preened. “Sorry, I get rather…passionate…about things I like.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Sherri said, making a show of fanning herself. “I haven’t heard anyone get that hot and bothered since my knitting circle all went to see that Jason Momoa merman movie. If you still feel the same way after you eat one of the sandwiches, we might just put you on the website for a testimonial. Maybe we’ll rename the sandwich, call it the Bust-a-Nut.”
“Sherri! Are you harassing that nice man?” Nelson called from behind the counter, but his wide grin assured Liam he was joking.
“Never, sweetie. You’re all the bear I’ll ever need,” Sherri replied. She turned back to the table and finished unloading her tray. “Southwest chicken on ciabatta with local pepper-jack cheese, house-made aioli, and hand-cut potato wedges,” Sherri added, setting down Jeffries’s plate. Two tall glasses of ice water accompanied their order and a plate with a pair of giant chocolate-chip cookies.
“Cookies are on the house. Welcome to Fox Hollow. We’re glad you’re here,” she said with a wink and a grin directed at Liam.
They dug into the food, and Liam realized he was hungrier than he thought. Halfway through their meal, a thin, balding man in a tweed jacket stalked up to their table. He gave Liam a dismissive once-over and turned to Jeffries, who had stiffened with an unreadable expression on his face.
“This is your pick? Hardly a seasoned professional.”
“This is not the place, Eric,” Jeffries said in a low voice, with an unmistakable edge of warning. “We can discuss this in my office—but the matter is closed.”
“I’ll lodge a complaint,” the newcomer threatened.
Jeffries didn’t look worried. “You are free to do that, but it won’t change anything.”
“We’ll see about that.” The stranger walked off, and Liam noticed that Sherri paid attention as the man left. She glanced over to Jeffries, who shrugged and shook his head. Liam felt sure from her expression that the man was not one of her favorites.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jeffries said, drawing Liam’s attention once more. “Eric Roberts is a temporary faculty member at the Institute. He put a candidate forward for the librarian position. The committee chose you instead.”
Liam had a million questions, but he knew Jeffries wouldn’t be permitted to answer any of them, so he just smiled and nodded, and went back to his food. Jeffries looked annoyed and embarrassed by Roberts’s display, but Liam didn’t sense that his companion thought the man was dangerous. He had no desire to plunge into small-town politics on his first day, so he was happy to let the incident pass.
As they finished their lunch, Liam and Jeffries chatted about mutual acquaintances from Ithaca, compared the weather there to Fox Hollow, and talked about the essentials Liam would need for a much harsher winter than he had ever experienced.
By the time they finished eating, Liam felt happily stuffed. The coffee and sandwich were as good as Jeffries had claimed, and the cookies were among the best he’d ever had. Liam knew he’d quickly become a regular.
They thanked Sherri for the cookies as they settled the bill, which Jeffries insisted on paying as part of Liam’s “welcome tour.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Sherri told Liam, handing him a coffee rewards card.
“Let’s walk down to the beach, and then we can pick up the lattes we promised Linda and Maddi on the way back to my office. I need you to sign some paperwork, and I can at least give you a glimpse of the Institute while you’re there.”
They passed an antique shop whose windows were full of pieces Liam could only term “rustic-chic.” Next door was a camping and fishing outfitter, and beside it was the office for seaplane tours and water taxi service, with a plane bobbing on the lake at the end of the dock.
“Wow.” Liam looked out over Fox Lake,