"Myka, we need you on this case and HG is perfectly capable of taking care of herself," Artie said severely.
"That is such garbage, Artie!" Myka shouted back. "Pete and Claudia can easily take care of this, it's not like they're going to get blown up by Rip van Winkle without me! And what if it were Pete, would you not want someone with him if he was sick?"
"That is irrelevant because it is not Pete, it is HG. You are going to Cincinnati and that is that." Artie shoved a plane ticket in Myka's breast pocket. "Leena can leave her soup outside her door or something."
"Helena isn't a dog, Artie! I'm not going to let her retrieve food from the floor for a week!"
"Artie," Leena chimed in hesitantly, "I haven't had chicken pox yet. If I got sick I wouldn't be able to take care of the B&B for a while, and you guys would be on your own for food and upkeep… Myka might be right on this one."
Artie glared at Leena before violently snatching the plane ticket from Myka's pocket, throwing it at Claudia and leaving the room wordlessly. Myka turned to Leena with a grateful glimmer in her eyes.
"Can you show me where you keep the pots and pans?"
HG sat under the covers, propped up on pillows with book and absentmindedly scratching her arm. When she heard footsteps on the stairs accompanied by the rattling of dishes, she set the book down and looked at the door expectantly. Myka emerged a moment later, carrying a tray laden with medication bottles, a rather thick book and a bowl of something steaming. She set it down on the table by the bed, and began pouring out pills in a variety of different colours and sizes.
"What's this?" HG asked as she held out her hands to accept the pills.
"The orange ones are for the fever and any pains you might have," Myka explained. "The little pink ones are for nausea, and the white capsules are just vitamins. Take them." She handed HG a glass of water. When the pills were taken Myka replaced the glass in HG's hand with the bowl, which turned out to be full of fresh chicken soup. Noodles and pieces of carrot floated in the steaming broth, which HG tasted hesitantly.
"Myka, this is incredible," she exclaimed. "You couldn't possibly have made this on your own."
"I did, actually," Myka answered, a smile of pride on her face. "My best friend in high school was Jewish, and she taught me how to make it. You know what they say, chicken soup is Jewish penicillin!"
HG stared back at Myka with a blank look.
"Oh, right… Penicillin," Myka realized after a moment. "It's an antibiotic discovered in 1928."
"I must have missed that," HG said with a crooked smile, taking another spoonful of the soup.
"What were you reading?" Myka asked, noticing the abandoned book on HG's lap.
"Oh, something called Twilight… Is this really what young people are reading nowadays?"
Myka grimaced. "Some of them, anyway. I'm sorry you had to experience that." She picked up the book and put it in the drawer of the bedside table. "How about some Shakespeare instead?"
HG smiled enthusiastically. "Please," she said, gratefully accepting the book. As she flipped through to find Hamlet, she scratched furiously at her leg through her pants. Myka grabbed HG's hand and stilled it.
"This has to stop, Helena," she said. "And I know just the thing for it."