bark is far tougher than her bite. And she's absolutely delighted to have a student again after all these years."
"She should have chosen one who can actually sing," said Elsie quietly.
"She did." Of that much, Jennie was sure. Vero loved a lot of witches, but she'd never taken a student from their ranks before. Somewhere in Elsie's love for music was a talent Vero had been unable to resist.
"She's just being kind." Elsie smiled. "Singing with her was a gift I'll never forget, but lessons are simply unnecessary."
Again with the tip of the iceberg. Self-confidence wasn't Elsie's real problem - she was bone-deep scared about what might happen if she sang again, terrorized by what it tugged on deep inside her.
And Jennie was well aware she wasn't the woman best equipped to win that fight. "You feel free to tell Vero that when you see her." She'd have to suggest a bit of quiet eavesdropping to Melvin - it would be a conversation that shouldn't be missed. "And she's sent a message. She'd like you to bring three of your favorite songs to your first lesson."
Elsie stopped dead in the sidewalk, nearly causing a pile-up behind her. "I can't do that!"
Jennie pulled her ghost-white student under an awning, confused. "I don't think she means opera, dear. Any three songs you like will do." Feeling the panic still rising in Elsie's mind, she took a shot in the dark. "Don't worry if you can't narrow it down to three right away. You have all day to think about it, and I'm sure Vero won't mind if your list is a little longer than three."
She had no idea what to make of Elsie's spiked panic - or her frenzied dash back toward the studio.
Jennie fingered her pendant and sighed. So much for lending Nat a helping hand. Being a WitchLight guide did wonders for an overinflated ego.
Jennie walked into Berkeley Real Estate prepared for pretty much anything after her impromptu stroll with Elsie, and was rather relieved to find Lizard sitting at her computer. "Morning - care to join me for lunch?"
"Can't." Lizard didn't even look up. "Gotta study."
It wasn't usually this hard to find a witch who wanted something to eat. And after several days sick in bed, Jennie was eager for company - her husband was still in the cranky-recovering-invalid stage. She walked past Lizard and knocked on Lauren's door. "I'm looking for someone to come eat with me. Are you going to turn me down too?"
Lauren looked up, puzzled - and then caught the edge of Jennie's mental frustration and grinned. "Nope. I have a craving for Romano's linguine, if that works for you." She lowered her voice. "We'll bring back takeout for Ms. Workaholic out there."
Not a title anyone would have applied to Lizard a few weeks ago, but the change didn't seem like a terrible thing. "She's got a lot on her plate right now." And she was stepping up to the challenge, which could only be a good thing.
"Yeah." Lauren didn't seem convinced. "But nobody's asking her to work quite this hard."
Jennie had spent a lifetime pulling three-day stints in her darkroom with little sleep and less food. "She'll live. Come on, grab your coat - I'm starving." These days, even her darkroom marathons involved breaks for something to eat. Old people needed regular sustenance.
Lauren snickered. Don't let Vero catch you calling yourself old. She gave Caro an earful on that subject at karaoke night.
Was I thinking that loudly? The growl of annoyance as they slid past Lizard answered Jennie's question well enough. Clearly Lauren hadn't been the only mind-witch picking up her leaking thoughts. Jennie tightened up her mental barriers - it was bad practice to leave them that sloppy.
Lauren waited until they got outside and then elbowed Jennie. "See, I told you. She's been growling at me all morning."
"All this for dead poets?"
They stepped into the street, dodging traffic - not the safest route to Romano's, but definitely the most direct. Lauren shook her head. "Nah. She's got the dead poets nailed. It's Excel spreadsheets causing her trauma. Someone needs to tell her that so long as the answer is right, generally nobody cares how you got there."
One wry glance confirmed that Lauren wasn't volunteering for the job. And Jennie wasn't doing it without proper food intake first. She dashed across the last lane of traffic and cyclists, stepping onto the curb right in front of the best Italian food in Berkeley. She inhaled