Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,82

upset,” Merry Carole says. I can’t help but laugh.

17

Assorted types of churros offered with Mexican hot chocolate, café con leche, and/or a ramekin of cajeta

I made churros all day yesterday and I’ve set them on different plates in front of Fawn, Dee, and Merry Carole the next morning at the salon. I’ve used different types of sugar and fried them at different temperatures and for different amounts of time. For dipping, I’ve made a batch of café con leche and Mexican hot chocolate made with cinnamon (canela) and just a pinch of cayenne pepper. I also offer a small ramekin of cajeta, which is a caramelly concoction made from goat’s milk that I may have become obsessed with lately. I know which combination is my favorite, but I want to see what someone else thinks.

“I need some real coffee to balance out all this sweetness; I’m going to brew another pot. Everyone wants another cup, right?” Fawn asks. We all can’t say yes fast enough. She laughs and walks back to the kitchenette.

“If you keep feeding us like this, I’m going to have to join you and Cal on your morning runs,” Merry Carole says, dipping a churro into her Mexican hot chocolate. Dee dips her churro into the cajeta again.

My cell phone begins ringing in my pocket. I immediately think of Warden Dale. Has someone . . . is it . . . ugh, I can’t think about it. I check the caller ID. An 805 area code. I don’t recognize it right off. It could it be one of the restaurants finally calling me back about those résumés I sent out in what seems like eons ago. As the phone rings again, I get this bolt from out of the blue—do I want a job somewhere else? I look at the plates of churros and Fawn, Dee, and Merry Carole sitting around enjoying them. That little black hole of a plot of land. My eyes dart from them to the ringing phone.

“Who is it?” Dee asks.

“I don’t know, but . . .” The phone continues to ring.

“Well, why don’t you answer it, for God’s sake?” Merry Carole says.

“Hello?” I ask, walking out of the salon to the disappointed moans of Fawn, Dee, and Merry Carole.

“Hey, Queenie, it’s Hudson,” he says. I’m relieved and then immediately flushed with delight.

“Hey there,” I say.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked Warden Dale for your number. I told him it was urgent business,” he says. I begin pacing in front of Merry Carole’s salon. The three women watch me pacing, like a tennis match.

“That’s only slightly creepy, I suppose,” I say, unable to quit smiling.

“I thought you’d be swept away by my ardent need to find you,” Hudson says, in a faux (and quite terrible) British accent.

“Aaaand now we’ve hit full-blown creepy,” I say, laughing.

“Wait until I start wearing your skin as a shirt. Don’t you want to know what the urgent business is?” Hudson asks.

“Always,” I say, laughing.

“So these people were talking around the breakfast table this morning—you know B and Bs, they want everyone to eat together. It’s fine, but slightly annoying, you know what I mean? Anyway—these people were talking about how there was this super-secret restaurant in North Star that only the locals knew about. Apparently, this woman used to serve—”

“She used to serve meals out of her back door. Yeah,” I say, knowing exactly what Hudson’s talking about.

“You know it!” Hudson says.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” I say.

“Okay, you can blindfold me or do whatever you want, but I want to eat there tonight,” he says. The invitation to blindfold him and do “whatever I want” sets off a mental chain reaction that ends with me flushing in embarrassment.

“At least the meal will be worth it,” I say.

“Worth what?”

“When I have to kill you after,” I say.

“Oh sure . . . sure. So do you want to come get me or can I meet you somewhere?” Hudson asks. I look into the salon at Merry Carole, Dee, and Fawn. They are staring at me as if I’m an animal in a zoo enclosure.

“You can pick me up at my sister’s hair salon at five thirty,” I say. I give Hudson the address to Merry Carole’s salon and we say our farewells. I beep my phone off and can’t wipe the smile from my face. I look up into the salon and see my reflection in the window. Smiling. Happy. Coming back to North Star was