they loved to hug, so I managed not to stiffen up. I even patted her back with one hand.
Odessa pulled away and turned to include her companion. “Oh, I’m sorry, this is Becca Rhodes, my”—she gave a little eye roll—“chaperone.”
“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand to the taller woman. “I’m Lex—”
“Luther, I heard,” Becca said, her eyes sparkling as she shook my hand. Her blouse shifted with the movement, and I spotted the small lump on her chest, not quite disguised by the floral pattern of her blouse. Witch bag. “An army nickname if I’ve ever heard one. Let me guess: You shaved your head?”
“Yeah.” I smiled in spite of myself. “Were you military?”
She nodded. “I was an MP. Afghanistan.”
Odessa chimed in. “Uncle Beau loves to hire ex-soldiers. It’s like his thing. Even Elliot was in the air force or something.”
“You seem awfully young to have served and been discharged,” Becca said, eyeing me.
Sometimes I forget that I look a lot younger than I am. “I was injured,” I said simply, and Becca nodded. I turned toward the table, ready to sit down, before I realized there were only two chairs. “I’ll just be over there, give you two a chance to talk,” Becca said amiably. She gestured at a smaller table near the windows before turning back to me. “Are you armed?”
There was no point in denying it. “Sig Sauer at the small of my back.”
“Thought so. Don’t pull it, okay?”
Her voice was still relaxed, but there was a certain authority now too. I nodded to show that I understood, and Becca strode toward the other table.
When Odessa and I were settled in our chairs, I raised an eyebrow at her. “I take it Becca doesn’t know about . . . us?” I asked quietly.
“No.” Odessa had opened the menu, but she shook her head without looking up. “She thinks I have a stalker.”
Which might be more or less the truth. “What about the witch bag?”
Now Odessa looked up long enough to roll her eyes. “Becca thinks Uncle Beau is harmlessly superstitious. He pays her extra to wear it anytime she’s with me, and she doesn’t ask questions.” She shrugged. “I mean, it’s basically an ugly necklace.”
Hmm. Beau was smart. “Who does she think I am?”
Odessa smiled. “A distant relative who will be consulting with Beau on some of his businesses. That explains why you have access to both of us.”
We’d just sat down, but the server, a very young woman with dark hair and a turned-up nose, hurried over. “Wonderful to see you again, Miss Calhoun,” she said to Odessa. “Are you ready to order, or would you like a few minutes?”
“I’ll have the Cobb salad,” Odessa said, handing over her menu. She looked at me with her eyebrows raised.
I picked up the menu, which was a piece of artfully distressed paper on a sort of fancy wooden clipboard. Luckily for me, there was only one page of choices. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, made with five different cheeses, and sweet potato fries. We both watched the server scuttle away to put in our order.
“You must come here a lot.”
Odessa gave me a demure smile. “Uncle Beau is a silent partner. He has a lot of businesses.”
“I see.”
“So,” Odessa said, her eyes sparkling as she turned her full attention to me, “I want to hear all about what you do.”
“What I do?” I was wary. “You mean for Maven?”
“No, no!” She flapped a hand. “I’m not pumping you for trade secrets, promise. I want to hear about boundary magic.”
I must have looked shocked, because she let out a small laugh. “Come on, you must understand why I’m so curious. It’s this big shameful family legacy, only no one will tell me anything about it.” She rolled her eyes again, reminding me that I was, in fact, dealing with a teenager.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do here. Odessa was technically an adult, but everyone in her life seemed intent on sheltering her from knowledge about her own heritage. “How did you first hear about boundary magic?” I asked cautiously.
“After Mama and Daddy died,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact, “everyone was very worried that I would die and come back, breaking three hundred years of Calhouns avoiding the curse. No offense,” she added, wincing.
“None taken.”
“Anyway, I knew a little about magic before that—there’s lots of superstition in the South, and half the kids at my school had an aunt or a granny who did rootwork. It was