might try coming off as less available.”
“So, you think Shea wants me to be available to her…”
Delilah rolled her eyes. Whatever. She was too fun to mess with.
“I’m serious, Dev. Both of you are doing the flirty-eye thing. It’s all fun and games ’til somebody gets hurt.”
“Hey. Chill,” Dev said. “All I did was ask when she was coming back.”
Delilah gave him a look. “It’s insulting when you underestimate my powers of perception.”
Dev crossed his arms. “You’re making it sound like I want to marry the woman.”
Delilah shook her head. “I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is, I need her. And I like her. Please don’t let all your weird issues mess that up for me.”
Delilah sighed and put her hand on her hips. Suddenly, she looked even more tired than she had before in the walk-in. Bone tired, like he had been six hours before.
“Look,” she said. “I’m bitchy right now. I’m tired and it’s been a long day. But I meant what I said—I need her to help me, not be too distracted by you. Just…” she sighed again. “Focus on the investigation. And, in the meantime, let me have a helper and a friend. She’s the coolest person to come to town in a while.”
15
The Sisterhood
Shea
“Sorry I’m late.” Shea felt as frantic walking into The Big Spoon as she had an hour earlier when she’d awakened in a panic well past noon. She’d lain awake for hours thanks to an irritable thunderstorm that kept her tossing and turning until 6:00 AM. She’d become dependent on the television as a sleep aid to keep her from freaking out about being up there all alone. Only, during the storm, the electricity had gone out.
What had followed was a night so terrifying, she could barely remember its like. Humans weren’t meant to live alone in houses made of glass. The white lie she’d told Brody about knowing how to use the generator was coming back to haunt her. And she’d come to terms with something she’d resisted admitting for weeks: she wasn’t enduring solitude very well.
“Sorry you’re late?” Delilah didn’t spare a glance from the bunch of basil she was slicing—wise, given the sharpness of her santoku knife. “Says the woman who’s been working four days a week, three hours a day and still refuses to be paid a penny?”
Shea put down her bag in its usual spot, doubly embarrassed by Delilah’s acknowledgment of how much time she’d put in. Shea was retrospectively unsurprised the side-gig designed to serve as a respite from crushing loneliness had become a lifeline she depended on. She needed a friendly face, especially after last night.
“What are we on?” Shea wondered aloud, honestly having lost track. The day before felt like eons ago.
“We were gonna brainstorm more salads.”
Delilah didn’t need to motion to what was on her cutting board, nor did she need to rehash how the two women had revamped the Caprese. It was another one that came down to the ingredients that were used. Though the order specs had been all wrong, Silvio had impressive access to nationwide inventory. Already, the menu was transformed.
“I’d go for a buttermilk fried chicken salad,” Shea kicked in easily, dipping into her bag for her laptop and getting ready to take her usual seat. She hadn’t stopped to make herself breakfast or even coffee and she was eager to have a bite of her bun.
“Fried chicken is easy enough to make on short order, and bound to be a crowd pleaser. People will feel good about ordering a salad, but the salt and crunch of the chicken will make it feel like a treat.”
Shea thought twice about sitting down, and instead walked toward the other side of the kitchen to the small fridge below a prep counter that they used for the desserts. She reached into the fridge, pulled out a carton of whole milk and poured herself a glass to have with her morning bun.
“I cannot fry chicken,” Delilah said with emphasis. She’d lifted up her cutting board and was using the back of her knife to scrape piles of ribboned basil onto a paper towel.
“Anyone can fry chicken,” Shea protested. “It’s seriously not a big deal, especially if you’re frying off the bone. I’m telling you—I’ve done it a thousand times.”
Delilah’s hands stopped moving and her eyes went a little wide at the same moment Shea raised the glass to her lips.
“That’s the first time you’ve admitted you know how to cook.”
Shea’s glass stopped