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FOUR
    Monday morning, I grabbed my binder and then slammed my locker shut. I hoped I hadn't forgotten my homework at home, but nothing would surprise me. I wasn't looking forward to my cooking lessons with the famous Circe Silvertongue. At least, not after how she acted at the street fair.
    "Can you believe that scene at the fair?" I asked Sam. "Circe was so nasty."Thechef'sbehaviorhadbuggedmetherestof the weekend, but I'd tried to tell myself she'd been in a bad mood when we saw her.
    "She was intense," Sam agreed. "But she has to be nice to you. You're the contest winner."
    "Maybe," I said, but I wasn't hopeful.
    "She came into Tete de Mort on Sunday," Sam confided. "She bought a purse."
    "That's nice," I said.
    Samantha laughed. "I know you don't care that much about fashion, but even you have to be impressed. She bought a one-of-a-kind La Contessa, which cost over five thousand dollars."
    "For a purse? That's obscene."
    "Obscene or not, I get the commission," Samantha said. She did a little dance.
    "That's fantastic," I said. "What are you going to do with the money?"
    "College fund," she replied, and then changed the subject. "Want to help out tonight? Craft session at the Wilders'."
    "Sure," I said. "I need to find out about scheduling my cooking lessons, anyway."
    I stopped at home after school to pick up the snacks I had made, and Samantha came by and picked me up in her little red VW convertible. Rachel and Jordan were in the back seat. As I slid into the front seat, I noticed my dad was staring out the window at us, an anxious look on his face.
    I sighed.
    Sam noticed my dad, too. She gave him a merry little wave and he returned it. "How is he?" she asked me.
    "Better," I said. "But he's driving me crazy. I thought when he came home, everything would be perfect, but he..."
    "Hovers?"
    "Exactly," I said. "He's way overprotective."
    Jordan said, "It must be weird for him, you know."
    Sam looked at her in the rearview mirror. "What do you mean?"
    "Can you imagine?" Jordan replied. "Locked up all that time. He probably thought about his family every single day, picturing you the way you were the last time he saw you. And then he finally gets home and everything has changed."
    "You're right," I said. Jordan and I weren't close, but she and Sam were. Her compassion for my father made me realize what Sam saw in her.
    After that, the conversation turned to more general things. "How's the squad?" I said, a tiny bit wistfully. I'd been a cheerleader for about ten minutes last year, and a part of me missed it.
    Rachel smiled at me. "You'll get a chance to see for yourself," she said. "Sam convinced everyone to lend a hand with the anniversary celebration."
    "I'll bet she did," I kidded.
    Even Samantha laughed.
    After we reached the long driveway leading to the Wilder estate, I said, "Can you let me off here? I'll meet you in the workroom as soon as I'm done talking to Circe."
    I cut through the garden but was careful to stick to the main path. The Wilders were shifters and you never knew who or what you'd run in to on their property if you weren't careful. I suppressed a shudder as I passed the topiary maze. Bad memories.
    Wilder's Restaurant wasn't open yet, but the French doors, the ones with the view of the maze, were flung wide to let in the fresh air. Delicious smells wafted through the deserted restaurant.
    I stopped to speak to a young woman in a severe black uniform with a starched white shirt setting the tables.
    "Hi. Could you tell me where I might find Circe Silvertongue?"
    "It's your funeral," she said wryly.
    At my startled look, she continued. "Oh, forget I said that. Circe is just ... having a rough day," she clarified, obviously choosing her words carefully.
    Great. I was stuck with a high-maintenance chef. Still, free cooking lessons were free cooking lessons.
    I followed my nose to the enormous back kitchen. It was empty, which was rather unusual at this time of day. There ought to be assistant chefs, a