“That one on my front step? I haven’t seen him, but he’s still around somewhere. Hopefully not in the house. A crow slammed into my bedroom window this morning, though. He didn’t crack it, but he was stunned enough to fall on the ground, and when I peeked out to see what had happened, Puka, my still-missing dog, zoomed out of nowhere, grabbed the crow and hauled off into the hills.” She smiled. “So what’s new with you?”
They talked of Magdalena, and the conversation came easily. She seemed genuinely unnerved by odd events she saw going on around the town—the subject that had inspired their initial contact. He had to admit that he, too, had some questions, but, her concerns went much deeper, and Ross wondered if she was religious.
“The thing is,” she said, “I think something happened, something to precipitate all this. I don’t know what, don’t know when, don’t know how, but even with some of my friends it’s like they’re keeping something from me, like they all know something they’ve sworn to keep secret.”
“Come on. You don’t think that sounds a little paranoid?”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “But just because you’re paranoid—”
“—doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you?”
“Exactly.” Jill put down the knife with which she’d been cutting tomatoes and looked to her left. “Oh. I almost forgot. Would you like some wine?” She picked up a stemmed glass and a bottle of pinot.
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m a terrible host. Can you tell I don’t do this much?”
“Not at all,” he said in an extravagantly exaggerated voice, and they both laughed.
Ross took a sip from the wine glass she handed him and nodded his approval. She took a sip of her own and went back to making the salad.
“So, did you grow up here?” he asked.
“No. Magdalena is one of those places where… I think the only people who want to live here are the ones from somewhere else. Most of the people who are actually from here end up leaving. I don’t know too many local kids whose goal is to remain in Magdalena.”
“So where are you from and how in the world did you end up in this town?”
“The same way Dave and Lita did, probably. No, maybe not. I think Dave’s family knew about it because of the agriculture thing. But I saw an article in Arizona Highways about spring wildflowers in southern Arizona, and I came down here with my boyfriend at the time to take pictures. We were both in college—Mesa Community—and we were both art majors, both taking the same photography course. The actual wildflower drive shown in the magazine was closer to Sierra Vista, and we went there, but we had our camping gear and ended up exploring some of the dirt roads in this part of the state, and we happened across Magdalena. I’d never heard of it before, and I just thought it was so cute and so…so completely unspoiled. We ate lunch at the bar, and the burgers were great, and I just kind of fell in love with the place. We went back to Mesa, and Craig and I broke up soon after that, but Magdalena kind of haunted me, and after I graduated from MCC and then ASU, I decided I’d like to live out here, be a starving artist. Of course, I didn’t even have enough money to do that, so I lived at my mom’s house and worked for a few years after graduation. Various jobs, nothing permanent. I saved my money, and by the time the housing market crashed in 2008, I had enough for a down payment, and I bought this place. I was working as a telemarketer at the time and, amazingly enough, I was good enough at it to earn a pretty decent commission. I’d been painting all along, but I never sold anything, so I needed to have an income.
Obviously, there weren’t any jobs around here, so I asked if I could keep my telemarketing job, though I’d actually been hoping I could quit. I was already working from home, checking in online, so they didn’t care, and I moved to Magdalena...and here I am.” She smiled. “Long story, huh?”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Going on five years now.”
“And how’d you start with the cookies?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always been into baking, cooking, what have you. A couple years back, I started making little…sculptures, sort of, out of my cookies. I’d experiment with different forms, give them away to friends, and someone suggested that I should sell them at the market, so I did. I don’t make a fortune, but I pay for my space, and it gives me the opportunity to try out new ideas every week. I usually try to have a theme. It’s fun, you know? Relaxing.”