He found Lena at the counter, cutting aromatics. She was on the other side of forty, but she had skinny arms and the kind of stubby ponytail Seamus associated with girls from his middle school. Her hair was box-dye copper with black roots. She looked up at him, watery green eyes, and gave him a smile, showing the craggy craters of her gums, missing teeth on the right side of her mouth. “Bisque,” he said.
