“Don’t you go smelling me,” Nessa scolded her. “I saw three dead people yesterday. I needed to take the edge off.”
Jo gave her a hug. “How many bottles did you go through, you lush?” she whispered in Nessa’s ear.
Nessa pushed her back. “Just one,” she said with a wince. “But apparently that was one too many.”
“Aww. Poor thing. Thank goodness I know where to fix you up,” Jo told her. “Don’t bother putting on fresh clothes. Just hop in the car.”
“Take me to the hospital,” Nessa ordered as she shuffled toward the driveway. “If I’m unconscious when we get there, tell them to give me oxygen and hook me up to a saline drip.”
“Trust me,” Jo told her. “We’re going somewhere much better than the hospital.”
Nessa strapped on her seat belt and closed her eyes for the ride. She’d barely settled in before the car stopped again.
Nessa opened a single eye. She could see Harriett’s jungle pushing against the property line as if eager to claim more territory. “This is where you brought me?” she asked.
“Trust me.” Jo helped Nessa out of the car and escorted her to the house, holding on to Nessa’s elbow as if she were ninety years old.
Jo had just lifted her knuckles to knock when the door opened and Harriett emerged from a fragrant fog of pot smoke like a magician appearing onstage. She was wearing what appeared to be a blue linen shawl with a hole cut for her head and a vintage YSL belt to cinch the waist. A pale cloud followed her outside and drifted up into the atmosphere.
“Jesus, Harriett.” Jo fanned the smoke away from her face. “It’s not even nine.”
“Did you come to tell me the time?” Harriett replied with her gap-toothed smile. “I know this might surprise you, but I do own a clock.”
“Oh yeah? Where is it?” Jo challenged her.
“I have no idea. Perhaps in one of the drawers.”
“Have you been smoking marijuana?” Nessa asked. She spun around to confront Jo. “Is that what you think’s gonna fix my hangover?”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s gonna make you do drugs, princess,” she assured Nessa. “Brought you another patient,” she told Harriett as she pushed Nessa into the house. “Unless you’re too stoned to cure anyone else.”
“I was stoned when you brought me the last patient,” Harriett noted. “I didn’t kill her, did I?”
“What patient?” Nessa asked suspiciously. “Who are you talking about? What have you two been doing?”
“Sit down,” Jo ordered. “We’ll fill you in when you’re cured.”
Harriett put on her glasses and took her place behind the workbench. Jo did her best to keep Nessa distracted while Harriett tossed an assortment of leaves, roots, and something that looked like it might be alive into a blender. The liquid she poured into a champagne flute was a thick, murky brown.
“What’s in this?” Nessa asked when Harriett handed her the cure.
“Just a few things from my garden,” Harriett replied casually.
“You didn’t put one of those nasty mushrooms in there, did you?” Nessa asked.
Harriett grinned. “I’m trying to cure your hangover, not send you to the moon. Drink it. I promise it will make you feel better.”
Nessa took a timid sip and wrinkled her nose. “It tastes like poop.” Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me there’s poop in this.”
“Okay.” Harriett pushed her glasses on top of her head. “I won’t tell you that.”