The others greeted him at the front door, Rowan eagerly pulling the bags of food from his hands. “What did you get? Oh my God, it smells fantastic.”
He spoke in a bullet list. “Tacos al pastor. Refritos. Red rice. Grilled onions.”
Everyone helped set out the food and gathered around the table. Sally and Henry Dale watched Eli top his first taco with minced onion, green sauce, lime juice, fresh cilantro, and bits of pineapple. He devoured it in two bites while Mira, Rowan, and Iris fixed their own plates.
“I’ve never seen a taco like that in my life,” Sally declared. “No lettuce? No cheese? No tomatoes or salsa?”
“It’s more traditional,” Eli said. “Go easy on the green sauce; it’s pretty hot.”
Henry Dale didn’t say anything, but it amused Eli to see how carefully the old man added everything to the corn tortilla, like he was playing Jenga and one wrong move would collapse his meal. He went light on the green sauce, heavy on the lime, and the first bite put a big smile on Henry Dale’s face.
Rowan had their phone out. “It says here that tacos al pastor were invented by Lebanese immigrants in Puebla, Mexico, in the 1920s. Originally, they were called tacos arabes and they used lamb.”
Eli grinned. He’d done the exact same thing when he tasted these, looked up the history of the dish. “Yup. The recipe was tweaked by local cooks—hence the spices and marinade—and they switched to pork because it’s more popular in Mexico.”
Rowan ate another taco. “Oh, interesting! This article says that in the early 2000s, a chicken version of pastor arrived in Lebanon, and it’s called Shawarma Mexici.”
“And we come full circle,” Iris intoned. “But while we enjoy the delicious grub, we have something important to talk about.”
Henry Dale said, “I think I know what this is about already.”
“Don’t keep the rest of us in suspense,” Sally urged.
Mira folded her hands and looked attentive while putting pineapple on her second taco. Eli let Iris take the lead since this was her house. While she hesitated here and there, she got the problem into the open eventually, leaving everyone silent in the shocked aftermath. People swapped looks, but he couldn’t read what those measuring glances meant.
“Does this mean we have to move out?” Rowan asked, their face still and sad. “I was the last person in, so I should probably—”
“No,” Eli cut in. “Definitely not. I’ll go if it comes to that, which it won’t. The whole point of this get-together wasn’t the taco chat.”
“Though that was fun,” Sally said cheerfully.
“Why aren’t you worried?” Henry Dale asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? Because we’ll figure something out. So many smart people in one room? There’s no way we don’t knock this problem on the head before dessert.”
Mira laughed. “I so enjoy the way you put things. And I agree with you. It’s not great news, but there has to be something we can do.”
“Off the top of my head, the quickest solution is marriage,” Sally suggested. “We get some legal families, and boom, we’re set. I nominate Rowan and Mira and…Eli and Iris.”
Rowan dropped their taco with a shocked splat. “What the heck! I’m only nineteen. Why don’t you marry Henry Dale?”
Sally narrowed her eyes, pointing a forkful of refritos in retaliation. “My backside! I’d rather marry the raccoon who rummages through our trash.”
“Me too!” Henry Dale snapped.
Iris sighed, rapping her knuckles on the table. “Nobody’s getting married. Let’s confine our discussion to reasonable, actionable ideas.”
“No doubt,” Rowan mumbled. “Are we coming up with a feasible plan, or are we doing a ‘wrong ideas only’ meme?”
“Hmm,” said Sally. “Well, I could stay part-time at Ethel’s place. I believe you need more than thirty consecutive days for residency.”
Eli shook his head. “That still leaves us with one too many. And we’re trying to avoid having anyone leave. I like things as they are.”
“Me too,” Rowan whispered.
Henry Dale didn’t chime in, but Eli could tell he felt the same way. While they didn’t qualify as a traditional family, they were one. Mira shot a poisonous look toward Susan’s house, though it wasn’t visible from the kitchen.
“If I end up joining Ethel’s coven, I’m so hexing that wench.”
Eli blinked. “Why can’t you do it on your own?”
“The hex will be stronger if I add more witches to the spell,” Mira said, as if that was the only answer that made sense.
And it kinda was.
Suddenly Iris snapped her fingers and stood up. “You’re a genius, Mira!”
“I am?” The witch sounded none too sure.
“I have a plan. Well, part of a plan. The germ of an idea, really. Sally, Mira? You’re with me. I need to talk to Ethel.”
With that, the three women headed out, leaving Eli to wonder what exactly went on in Iris’s head. It must be a magical place.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Wait!” rowan called.
Iris was by the front door, putting her shoes on. Mira and Sally were already heading out to Iris’s car, which was parked at the front of the driveway. “Yeah?”
“Ethel’s a witch, right? I want in! I know Danica and Clem, but I need to meet the rest of the coven if possible. It will make our web comic even more awesome.”
Though the situation wasn’t amusing in the slightest, she admired Rowan’s inclination to capitalize on opportunity as it knocked. “Then grab your jacket and put on your sneakers.”
“I’m on it,” Rowan said.
Soon, the four of them set off for Ethel’s place, and Iris was sort of surprised that nobody had asked what she had in mind. Maybe it was obvious.
Ethel lived on a cul-de-sac about fifteen minutes away, a cute bungalow with what was probably a gorgeous garden, though autumn had done a number on her annuals. Plants that had to be replaced every spring always seemed kind of sad while Iris admired the hardiness of perennials, returning year after year with steely determination. There were enough evergreens in Ethel’s yard to keep it from looking desolate, however.
“Do you intend to tell us what you’re planning?” Mira asked as Iris parked.
“It makes more sense to explain in front of Ethel since the whole thing falls apart without her cooperation.”
“I think I know what you have in mind,” Sally said.
“You love being mysterious,” Rowan complained. “You never did explain how you got into my dad’s locked file cabinet!”
Sally laughed. “Are you still thinking about that? It’s not that interesting. We used to have file cabinets just like that and the keys got lost pretty often, so I learned to pop the lock with a nail file.” She raised her voice, talking to the streetlight. “It’s not even proper lock picking, which I definitely do not know how to do, any NSA officers who might be surveilling us.”
Both Mira and Rowan burst out laughing, then Rowan whispered, “You know, I kind of love that I can’t tell if she’s joking.”