A Season of Miracles

“And Jillian passed out?” Griff said, brow furrowed as he tried to understand the chronology of events. “Because of Marston?”

“No…no…” Connie murmured uncertainly.

“It was the bar, I guess,” Joe said.

“The bar or the beer?” Daniel asked.

“She wasn’t drunk,” Connie told him.

“The fortune-teller made her think she was a witch?” Griff asked, as confused as his brother.

“No…but I…” Connie began.

“I don’t think we should let her find Jeeves like this,” Joe said flatly. “She loved that cat.”

“She loves anything with fur,” Daniel commented.

“Is that true of her men, too?” Griff asked Connie, teasing.

“Griff…” Daniel began warningly.

“Hey, she’s coming!” Joe alerted them, stepping in and closing the door. “She’s on her way down the hall.”

Griff quickly slid the dead cat behind his back. Connie rushed over to him, standing behind him so the dead cat was fully hidden.

“The tray of cookies is still there,” Daniel muttered.

“I’ll just grab it,” Joe volunteered.

When Jillian stepped into her office, it was more than weird. Connie and Griff were standing to one side, were very close to one another, looking like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. A very guilty Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

Daniel was standing by her desk, Joe beside him, looking like a butler, last night’s tray of cookies and tea in his hands.

“Good morning, Jillian,” Joe said brightly.

She frowned. “Good morning, Joe.” She looked around her office again. “Daniel, Connie, Griff,” she said, greeting each of them in turn.

“Morning,” Connie said.

“Good morning, Jill,” Daniel murmured.

“Ditto,” Griff told her.

They were all staring at her.

“Okay,” she said. “What are you all doing in my office?”

“Meeting,” Daniel said.

“I stubbed my toe,” Connie said.

“She stubbed her toe,” Joe repeated. “And screamed.”

“Yeah. She screamed. We all came running,” Griff told her.

They were still staring at her.

“Are you all right now?” she asked Connie.

“Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” Connie said.

“Your toe,” Jillian reminded her.

“Oh…I…yes. It’s fine now.”

“So what about this meeting?” Jillian said.

“What?” Connie said, frowning.

“Meeting. Didn’t you say you were here for a meeting, Daniel?” Jillian asked.

“Yeah.”

“About what?”

“A quick meeting. Just to say that, uh, we’re definitely going with the Celtic cross.”

“You told me that yesterday.”

“Yeah, but…there’s also an ad campaign we need to discuss.” He looked at his watch. “Can’t now. Have to be in a marketing meeting in two minutes.”

“But—” Jillian began.

“Marketing. That’s me,” Griff said.

“Since when have you actually bothered to attend a meeting?” Jillian asked.

“Today. It’s an important one.” He was walking toward her door.

Backward.

And Connie was going with him.

“I’ll get some coffee,” she said, smiling in response to Jillian’s confused frown.

“And I’ll get rid of the tea,” Joe said cheerfully, rushing out, the tea service rattling.

“Marketing,” Daniel said, sounding ridiculously awkward, not at all like his usual assertive self. He followed Joe, passing by Connie and Griff—old Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum—who nearly crashed into one another in their haste to exit her office.