Page 97
Story: The Inquisitor
For a few moments, I let the food distract me. My eyes went to a dish ofquindim, a pastry made from egg yolk and ground coconut. My mom used to make these for me when I was a kid.
“You went overboard,Vó.” I stared at the tray of steak and chicken kebabs. “How are we supposed to eat all this food? There’s plenty to eat without the kebabs.”
“I didn’t know if she’d like the traditional Brazilian food, so I made kebabs.” Grandma sighed, looking at the clock on the wall, which showed seven twenty in the evening.
“Who’s she?” I asked, eyeing the steak kebab.
“She told me she would come. She seemed really excited about the project.”
Oh, right. I’d forgotten about her guest.
Grandma had never invited anyone over for dinner, especially not a stranger she’d just met. Family dinners were just family, so I was curious who this guest was that had charmed Grandma.
“You made all this for a stranger you met yesterday? What kind of project did she sell you?”
“Her name is Kiera. She said she had an idea about—”
“Wait.” My heart leaped, and I cursed at myself for not connecting the dots when I saw the Full Circle Apothecary shopping bag. My mind had been in panic mode. “Was anyone with her? Did you see anything strange?”
“You know Kiera?” Grandma’s eyes beamed.
“Of course, I know her. She’s my girlfriend.”
“What?When did you get a girlfriend?” She stood up from the chair with hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to, but she’s missing.”
“What are you talking about?” Grandma’s eyes switched from being angry to concerned. I loved that she liked Kiera enough to invite her to dinner.
I didn’t want to worry her, but I also knew she wouldn’t stop hounding me with questions if I didn’t share some information.
“Oh, dear.”She placed a hand to her heart and told me how she’d met Kiera in the street.
Grandma even saw Kiera crying while reading a journal.I’d like to check it out later.
“Are the police out looking for her?” Grandma stalked over to the window, looking out as though Kiera was there. I’d done the same thing many times at my hotel suite.
“Yes. Don’t worry—I’ll find her,” I said. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”
“So this is why you look like you’ve just seen ghost.” Grandma walked over to me, cupping my face in both hands. “I’ve never seen you like this, Forrest. Tired, worried, angry. It’s not good for you. She needs you to be strong for her.”
She shifted to stand behind me, massaging my shoulders and at the base of my neck. She’d taken several courses on acupressure methods, and right now, each pressure point she pressed felt like a miracle. Her fingers moved up my neck and head.
After a few minutes, she walked over to her herb counter and took out a bottle, bringing it over to me. “Sniff it.”
“What is it?”
“Thieves oil.”
“Oh, gosh, I can’t stand that smell.”
“I know. But it’s a boost to your immune system. Stress is taking a toll on you whether you feel it or not. You’re not a machine, Forrest.” She placed the bottle under my nose, waiting for me.
Thieves oil was a combination of cinnamon, clove, eucalyptus, lemon, and rosemary. I didn’t mind these herbs by themselves, but the fragrant blend wasn’t for me.
“Did you know that during the Black Plague people lathered themselves in this oil to keep the germs away?”
That had been a rumor.
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