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“Kitchen’s the other way.” He comes in and around and puts himself between me and the table, casual as anything, hip against the edge, one hand flat on the laminate right over the corner where the names are. “Water’s in the fridge. Bottled, and there’s a filter thing on the tap.”
I don’t move. “What is this?”
“It’s a table.”
“Niko.”
He drinks some of his beer. “It’s Kane’s property work.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of property work.”
“He’s been at it a long time.” Niko’s answer is friendly and completely closed at the same time. “This is what he does, Delilah. He buys stuff nobody wants and waits.”
“That’s my street.”
“It’s a lot of streets.”
“That’s my building.” I point past his arm at the white square. But he doesn’t turn to look at it, which is how I know he already knows where it is. “It’s the only one that isn’t colored in.”
Niko exhales through his nose. He sets the beer down. “Ask him,” he says. “I’m just gonna mess up the answer.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I know. I just…” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Is it bad?”
He sighs. “Just ask him,” he says again. “It’s better that way.”
Before I can keep pushing, my phone starts to ring. I look down and see that Priya is calling me, which is really weird, given the late hour.
“Pri? Everything okay?”
“Are you sitting down?” she asks. “Because I’ve been on the phone for an hour and a half and you’re going to want to be.”
“What happened?”
“Hearth & Harvest canceled.”
My knees go a little loose. “Canceled what? Thursday’s order?”
“Everything. Thursday, next week, the standing order, the account. All of it.” Something rustles on her end. “I got an email when I was closing up shop. ‘Effective immediately, we are unable to continue servicing your account.’ No reason. I called the emergency line and got Jasper. Jasper’s known us for three years, but he wouldn’t explain a damn thing.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He said, and I’m quoting him, ‘Priya, I can’t get into it, and I’m sorry. Please don’t call back.’ Then he hung up on me.” She takes a breath. “Delilah, they’ve got our flour. All of it. Our butter, our chocolate, the dairy. We have enough to get through next Wednesday and nothing after that.”
I look at the white square on the table.
Niko’s hand is still lying flat over the corner with the names on it.
I can’t shake the feeling that all of this is somehow connected.
“Don’t do anything,” I tell her. “Don’t call anybody else. I’m coming.”
39
KANE
