Page 63 of Soft Flannel Hank

“I’ll take a cup, Jamie,” she said, handing him a mug.

“Sure thing, Ma.”

Hank stood in the doorway. “Am I having a stroke?”

Neither answered him. Jamie got milk out of the fridge while Magda opened a new roll of paper towels.

“Am I having a fucking stroke?” Hank asked, just below a shout.

Magda turned her sharp eyes on him. “I certainly hope not, Dovey.”

In a daze, Hank crossed the kitchen and sat down at the table. Jamie and Magda bustled around his kitchen like it was their own, ignoring him completely. The adrenaline that had surged through his body when they’d knocked on the door was wafting away like smoke on a stiff breeze, and he found himself shaking in his seat. He gripped the tabletop to keep his hands from vibrating.

Jamie set a mug of steaming coffee by Hank’s elbow. “Here,” he said.

Hank wanted it. He wanted to taste the bitter blackness on his tongue, but he didn’t trust his hands to pick it up without shaking so violently he’d end up wearing it.

“She’s gone,” he croaked.

“Jamie,” Magda said, “do you mind nuking my coffee for a few more seconds? You know how hot I like it. Boil it in that cup.”

The microwave beeped as he turned it on. Was Hank only imagining himself talking?

“Oh, Hank,” Magda said, propping her hip on the counter. “Alice called. She wondered if you might pop by the motel today to take care of something for her.”

“She’s gone, Magda.”

“I just talked to her on the way here. She’s gonna be there all day.”

“No, goddammit,” Hank took a deep breath. And then another, trying to get himself under control. “Esther. Esther’s gone.”

Magda fixed her stare on his and held it. He couldn’t look away if he’d tried. “Alice needs you to go to the motel today to take care of something.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Ma, just tell—” but Hank cut him off.

“Are you not listening to me? Esther’s gone. That vampire’s got a scout in town who’s looking for her by name. I don’t know where she went and she’s in dang—“

Magda interrupted him. “You really need to fix the problem at the motel, Hank. It can’t wait.”

“I don’t have time!” he shouted. “I have to find Esther!”

Magda walked to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm, a mother’s hand, squeezing it. “You need to go to the motel right now. You need to talk to Alice.” She emphasized the last three words with raised eyebrows and a staccato voice.

She knew where Esther was.

Hank almost overturned the table as he jumped to his feet, springing for the door as soon as he was upright.

“Bye, Hank,” Magda said, and he heard Jamie call out behind him as he shoved his feet into his boots without lacing them.

He turned. Jamie stood in the doorway with a smirk on his face. “Sorry about Ma. I told her to just tell you outright, but you know how she is.”

“Yeah,” Hank said with a swallow. “I know how she is.”

As he got into the truck, Hank thanked a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that Magda was exactly the way she was. His heart was in his throat as he drove the short distance to the motel.

He pulled into the motel parking lot and parked in a spot right in front of the office. He took a deep breath and crossed the short span of sidewalk into the office. Alice sat behind the desk, thumbing through a magazine. Her nails were painted her signature bright red. Creole Shrimp, she’d once told him the polish was called.

“Hank,” she said with a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”