The Grave Soul by Ellen Hart Read Free Book Online

dinner rush wouldn’t begin for another couple of hours, which meant that this was the perfect chance for her to grab something to eat. She hadn’t had a decent meal today and her stomach was growling so loudly it actually made her laugh. She called up to the kitchen and asked for a plate of bangers and mash—and some coarse grain mustard—to be sent down to her office.
    After saving the page she’d been working on, she glanced through her calendar, seeing that she had an interview with a reporter for City Pages on Friday morning. It would be great PR for the restaurant, and also for the brilliant new sous chef she’d hired to develop a separate Scandinavian menu.
    Rising from her chair, Jane headed down the hall to the ground-floor pub. She still had a bunch of shopping to do before Christmas. This would be the first Christmas she’d spent in Minnesota without her brother, Peter, and his family. They were in Brazil, where he was shooting a documentary on the Latin American Spring. Their father had recently turned seventy and had also broken up with his on-and-off girlfriend, both big changes in his life. Jane wanted to make sure his Christmas was filled with warm fires, good food and wine, and family—the last part meant not only Jane, but her best friend, Cordelia, and Cordelia’s niece, Hattie. Jane had recently ended a romantic relationship of her own, though it hadn’t taken her long to rebound. In truth, she felt she was in a great place.
    Stepping into the pub, Jane found a few regulars seated at the bar, as well as a foursome playing cribbage in one of the raised booths. The hearth in the back room was burning hardwood logs, low and slow, ready for those brave souls willing to negotiate the frigid temperatures in order to grab a beer and a burger after work.
    Jane made small talk with the bartender while she poured herself a mug of coffee. She bent down to get a napkin and when she straightened up, she saw a familiar figure sitting alone at one of the tables.
    â€œGuthrie?” she said, walking over to him. She hadn’t seen him in years. In that time, he’d let his brown hair grow long. It was pulled into a ponytail and trailed midway down his back.
    â€œJane, hi,” he said, standing, smiling at her. The strain in his voice betrayed a degree of nervousness.
    Guthrie Hewitt had begun working for Jane as a busboy during his senior year of high school. The following summer, he’d graduated to waiter. At the time, he and his older brother were living at home, saving their money so they could rent an apartment together. Since they both worked two jobs, they saved a significant amount in a fairly short period of time. The following summer, they’d blown it all on a backpacking trip to Japan, China, Thailand, and India.
    Jane remembered talking to Guthrie after he’d come back. Both he and his brother had developed such a passion for tea that they were thinking of getting into the import business. She didn’t know the particulars, but after they renovated a space next to a busy smoke shop on Hennepin Avenue, the Hewitt & Hewitt Teahouse was born. It quickly became one of the trendiest spots in the uber-trendy Uptown area. Jane had never stopped in, though she’d always meant to.
    â€œGreat to see you,” said Jane. “How’s the tea business?”
    â€œGood,” he said, his smile fading as he sat back down. He folded his hands over a manila envelope.
    Since he didn’t have anything to eat or drink on the table, she asked if she could get him something.
    â€œNo thanks,” he said. “I was sitting here wondering if coming to see you was the right thing to do.”
    â€œCan I help in some way?”
    â€œCould we go back to your office? There’s something I need to show you.”
    â€œSure,” she said. He seemed so hesitant that she glanced over her shoulder a couple of times as she led him down the hall,