Absolutely, Positively

would have been more, not less pressure on Josh if his father had still been alive. But Wild Willy Trevelyan, daredevil motorcycle stunt driver, ladies' man, and unofficial poster boy for the macho, hardliving lifestyle, was dead.

    Wild Willy had been killed seven years earlier when he had tried to ride his overpowered cycle across a mountain of cars that had been set ablaze. A thousand spectators, including his twelve-year-old son, Josh, had witnessed the engine explosion that had caused Wild Willy's death.

    Josh had gone into a state of shock. No one in the family knew what to do. Josh's mother had been killed in a carnival accident shortly after he was born. His reckless, embittered grandfather, Leon Trevelyan, was no fit parent for a young, deeply traumatized boy. Most of the other Trevelyans were too broke to assume the responsibility of an extra mouth to feed.

    Newly arrived in the Northwest, Harry had also been present in the audience the day Wild Willy had been killed. He had recognized the dazed look in Josh's eyes. In the months since the death of his own parents, Harry had grown accustomed to seeing that same expression every time he had looked into a mirror.

    Harry had brought Josh back to Seattle after the funeral. No one in the family had argued about the decision. They had all been vastly relieved to have Harry take charge of the boy.

    Josh had eventually begun to recover from his grief, but it was obvious by the end of that first summer that there was nowhere for him to go. Fall was approaching. Harry registered him in a Seattle school.

    It became clear very quickly that Josh was highly intelligent. Under Harry's guidance he had developed a passion for math and science.

    For his part, assuming responsibility for his young cousin had given Harry a badly needed sense of focus. Things had settled into a stable routine that had worked surprisingly well for several years.

    Then, one day shortly after Josh's sixteenth birthday, Leon Trevelyan had appeared at the front door of Harry's condominium.

    Leon had wanted his grandson. He intended to teach the boy how to drive a race car.

    Fortunately, Josh had been at school that day. Harry had taken his uncle Leon into his study, closed the door, and proceeded to wrestle with the devil.

    Harry had known from the outset that he could not afford to lose. Josh's future had been at stake. Failure would have meant consigning the boy to the path his father and grandfather had traveled. It was a dead-end road.

    Harry had won the battle.

    He pushed aside the old memories. “Don't worry,” Harry said. “I'll deal with Leon.”

    Josh looked enormously relieved. “Thanks.”

    Harry went back to his paper.

    “About this date you've got for Friday night,” Josh said.

    “What about it?”

    “No offense, Harry, but from what I saw last night, you're a little rusty.”

    “Rusty?”

    Josh grinned. “In exchange for getting Grandpa off my back, I am prepared to give you some advice.”

    “I don't think I need any advice.”

    “Don't be too sure of that,” Josh said. “It's a jungle out there these days.”

    Tessa Calshot was refilling a glass container of whole cloves when Molly walked into Abberwick Tea & Spice Company on Thursday morning.

    “'Morning, Molly.” Tessa hoisted the plastic sack of cloves. The sleeve of her faded, 1930s vintage thrift-shop dress fell back to reveal the elaborate tattoo that decorated her right arm. “Be careful when you go into your office. Kelsey's in there. She's experimenting with a new version of her ground spice dispenser.”

    “Thanks for the warning.”

    “Ever vigilant, that's me. Especially so since that little episode with her tea-brewing gizmo.” Tessa shook the last of the cloves out of the sack. “Took me most of the morning to clean up after the explosion, if you will recall.”

    “Only too well.” Molly grinned at her assistant.

    Tessa spent her nights playing lead guitar for an all-female band called Ruby Sweat, but as far as Molly was concerned, her true talent lay in the marketing and merchandising arena. She had a natural genius for the field, although few traditional businesspeople would have recognized it. Tessa was not exactly the conservative type.

    Her spiky hair was rarely the same color two days in a row. This morning it was neon green. Her lipstick was brown. She favored pre-World War II era dresses that hung oddly on her short, sturdy frame. She paired them with large,