Page 97 of Jingle Spells

She was so specific, so confident. And she knew about the liquor license, which wasn’t something a random stranger would ever guess. Still, the gaping maw in his memory was unsettling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, restarting the car. “I must have hit my head or something. Things are a bit . . . fuzzy.”

“Everything’s okay, Jasper.” Her voice held a kindness that seemed excessive for whatever professional relationship this (presumably) was. “Let’s just get to your office.”

As he eased his car back onto the road, Jasper couldn’t shake a strange feeling that something profoundly odd was happening. He stole glances at the woman beside him—Delilah Melrose, she said. She kept stealing glances at him too, which only increased his discomfort. Each time their eyes met, she quickly looked away, as if he’d caught her out somehow.

By the time they pulled into the county clerk’s office parking lot, Jasper’s discomfort had taken the form of a tight knot in his stomach. Had they had a conversation yesterday that he’d completely forgotten? Was he losing his mind? Dementia at thirty-five seemed extreme, but what other explanation could there be?

“Ready?” Delilah asked as he cut the engine.

No, he thought. Not remotely. But he nodded anyway, committed to seeing this bizarre situation through.

Toby was at his usual post behind the reception desk when they walked in, his eyes widening comically at the sight of Jasper.

“Holy shit!” Toby exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You’re alive!”

“Uh, yup,” Jasper said, confused. “Was there some notion I might not be?”

“You joking?! Everyone’s been going crazy, looking for you. The boss filed a missing persons report! Goddamn cops came by to interrogate everybody, for Christ’s sake!”

“Police?” Jasper repeated weakly.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you disappear for over a week!”

A week? Jasper felt the floor tilt beneath him. Not just a few hours, not just a day. More than a week was missing. “I, um . . . I don’t really know . . .”

“He had an accident,” Delilah interjected smoothly. “A fall. He hit his head pretty badly.”

“You had. A fall,” Toby’s skepticism dripped from every syllable.

“Yes. I took him to the hospital. The doctor said to expect some temporary memory issues but assured us he’ll be fine in a few days.”

Toby’s eyes darted between them, a slow, leering smile spreading across his face. “A fall,” he repeated, this time exaggerated air quotes. “Did he fall on you, sweetheart?”

“That’s very rude. Jasper is a colleague of mine. I’m a document preservation specialist.”

“Oh ho, I bet you are.” Toby’s grin widened as he leaned toward Jasper. “Listen, Jas. Next time you pick up a little stranger? Just call in sick like a normal person, okay? The boss is seriously pissed. So are the clerks in the other departments, even that anonymous benefactor of yours called. He’s pissed off, too. Everybody’s pissed off, dude.”

“We really need to get to the archives,” Delilah said firmly.

“Sure, sure.” Toby waved them through. “Hey and uh, Merry Christmas.”

Their walk to the basement felt interminable, with Jasper’s mind desperately trying and failing to fill an impossible gap in his memories. Over a week, Toby said. He’d lost over a week.

“This way . . .” Jasper ushered Delilah down the basement stairs. He was overwhelmed with gratitude to be on familiar ground. The archives were his domain, the place where everything made sense.

“The portrait you mentioned is right at the bottom there.” The stern-faced woman gazed down at them with the same judgmental expression she’d worn for centuries.

“Perfect,” Delilah said. “Can you take it down? We need to look behind it.”

Jasper balked. “Take it down? It’s very fragile! We can’t just⁠—”

“Please, Jasper. It’s important.”

Something in her voice, an inexplicable note of desperation, made him hesitate. This was clearly important to her, though he couldn’t fathom why. Despite his reservations, he gently, gently lifted the portrait from its hook. It was heavier than he remembered, with the ornate wooden frame adding considerable weight.

“Now what?” he asked, holding it awkwardly.