by Lynn Cahoon
When they arrived at her mom’s house, Christina took out her earbuds and stared at Mia. “I can’t believe Cal was a killer. He sat at my table the night we all went out and talked to me for a couple hours. I thought he was cute and sweet. But then he killed Dorian.”
Mr. Darcy gave out a yowl and Christina glanced back at the cat. “Sorry.”
“I think he doesn’t like to talk about it.” Mia reached back and scratched Mr. Darcy on the head. “I’m just glad Bethanie had a stroke of conscience and told Baldwin.”
“I think that was Kev’s doing. He noticed she was upset and made her tell him. He’s good for her, even if she drives him crazy.” Christina reached over and gave Mia a hug. “Thanks for being in my life. I feel like you’re the only sane one around.”
“That’s saying a lot since you know more of my secrets now.” Mia hesitated. “Can we keep what you found out about me between us? I know she already thinks she knows my secrets, but your mom already doesn’t like me. Adding more fuel to the fire won’t change her mind.”
“Not a problem.” Christina glanced at the house. “I guess I’ve got to go in. I know all she’s going to want to talk about is school anyway. I wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise, even if I wanted to tell her about our week.”
“See you soon.” Mia called as Christina grabbed her bag out of the trunk. “Call me.”
Driving away, she focused on her conversation with Isaac. First, she’d acknowledge her own responsibility in the distance between them. He wouldn’t be so defensive if she did. Mr. Darcy jumped into the front seat as they got closer to home.
“You know where we are, don’t you?” She reached over and scratched him on his ears. Pulling into the driveway, there was a car Mia didn’t recognize parked up by the garage.
She grabbed Mr. Darcy. She’d get her bags later. Going to the front, she unlocked the door and dropped him and her purse on the original wood floor she’d refurbished the first year after they’d bought the house. Now, it was shiny and beautiful rather than that awful carpet the previous owner had covered it with.
“Isaac? Are you home?” She called as she picked up the mail. She went through it as she walked to the kitchen. Bill, bill, advertisement, a letter from her college sorority, and…she froze in the doorway of the kitchen. Gloria, her kitchen witch doll, sat on the windowsill, a look of disgust on the doll’s face.
Isaac sat there drinking coffee in his robe. No surprise there. But the blonde sitting next to him in Mia’s robe, that was a surprise.
“Mia, I didn’t think you were coming home until tonight.” He stood, wrapping the robe closer.
“Isaac? Who is she? How did she get in the house?” The blonde asked, reaching for his hand.
He pushed the woman’s hand away. “Mia, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Mia felt Mr. Darcy lean into her leg, giving her some of his strength. “It looks like your friend stayed the night in my bed. What am I missing?”
“Isaac and I are engaged. What does it matter to you who he sleeps with?” The blonde said.
Mia realized that this was the distance she’d been feeling between them. The blonde was the distance. She should have realized this earlier, but at least this scene made her decision easy. “I’m going upstairs to my study. Please leave with her and call my attorney tomorrow. She’ll let you know what I want out of the house and the relationship. Have a nice life.”
“Mia, wait. I don’t want to lose you.” He stepped toward her.
“You already have.” She turned to go but his next words stopped her.
“Tell me you’ll be at work tomorrow.”
And there was the kicker. He didn’t want her as his partner, he wanted her as his employee.
“Signs aren’t looking favorable for that either.” Mia went upstairs, Mr. Darcy following close behind. When she’d shut and locked the door to her study, she sank into her thinking chair and grabbed a handful of tissues. Isaac might not have been a good partner for her. Not her soulmate as Grans had warned her, but Mia had loved the guy. And she’d been blind.
Tonight was about grieving the loss of the life she thought she’d made. The house she’d remodeled for their life together. Tomorrow would be soon enough to start her new life. And to make plans. Tonight, she was just going to cry. And maybe work on a few spells that might help her cat free himself from his roommate.
Mr. Darcy came up and laid on her lap, touching her face with his paw. Trying to make her feel better. She grabbed him into a hug and hid her face into his fur. “Not quite the homecoming we expected, right boy?”
She heard the phone ring and considered letting it go to voice mail, but she dug it out of her purse instead. Not needing to look at the display, she answered. “Hey, Grans.”
“Are you all right? I can feel your pain all the way here.”
Mia stroked Mr. Darcy’s fur. “I’m fine. I might come back up for a few weeks. What do you think of that?”
“That boy’s broken your heart, hasn’t he?” Grans tsked into the phone. “No matter, your destiny is here in Magic Springs.”
“I have a job here.” She said, but even she didn’t feel the conviction in her words. There was no way she was going to work with Isaac. Ever.
“I have a project I’d like to talk to you about. I can’t promise anything, but you might be able to pick this building up for a song. And it’s in a perfect location.” Grans voice was warm and inviting. “You always said you wanted your own business. This is a perfect time to start.”
“Maybe.” Mia gently dropped Mr. Darcy on the floor. “What are you thinking about?”
By the time Mia got off the phone with her grandmother, she had an idea of what she wanted to do. First things first. She needed the spot to open the business. She leaned back in her chair. “If not now, then when?”
Mr. Darcy sat by the fireplace, watching her. She went over and picked him off the wing back chair, and sat in his place. She settled the cat on her lap and stared into his eyes. “Dorian, it’s too bad you can’t talk. I could use some advice before I go jumping into this next adventure. I heard you were an amazing businessman when you were alive.”
The cat winked at her.
Men might come and go, but familiars were here for the long haul. She sank back into the chair and started making notes on the notebook she kept on a nearby table. Time for a new life.
Letter to my readers
I have a confession. I don’t eat beans. So I’m not a big chili eater. Okay, full disclosure, I don’t eat chili at all. But I loved my mom’s chili. Especially the first day. She’d make up a pot on the wood burning stove and it would simmer all day, making the house smell amazing. I haven’t attended a chili contest like the one Mia judges in this book, but I’ve included Mom’s recipe below so you can see what I’m talking about. As I was checking out the recipe for you, I made up a batch of corn bread to go with the chili. It was as good as I’d remembered.
Great recipe for a cold night of reading in front of a roaring fire.
Enjoy,
Lynn
Woodstove Chili
Ingredients:
Chopped medium size onion
1 lb. of hamburger
Salt/pepper
Cayenne pepper
1 can of chopped green chilies
1 large (28 oz.) stewed tomatoes
1 large can tomato paste
1 large can chili beans
In a large (heavy) soup pan, sweat a chopped onion in a tbsp. of vegetable oil. Add the hamburger, cook until browned. Don’t drain the grease. Just add the next five ingredients. Cook slowly over low heat. 30-60 minutes.
Serve with cornbread fresh out of the oven.
Keep reading for
more adventures with Mia!
A sneak peek at
the fir
st full-length novel
in the new
Kitchen Witch Series
ONE POISON PIE
coming soon from
Lynn Cahoon
and
Kensington Books
Chapter 1
Karma sucks.
Mia Malone slapped the roller filled with cottage-yellow paint on the wall. She’d missed another spot. Her lack of attention was one more thing on the long list of karma credits she could blame on her ex, Isaac.
If karma didn’t smack down the low life scum soon, she had several ideal spells just waiting to be used on the rat. Maybe he’d like to develop a rash? Or maybe turned into a toad, to match his true personality? A line of yellow paint dripped off the roller and onto the scratched wood floor.
She sat the roller in the paint pan and with a rag, wiped up the paint before it could dry. Maybe a run would be more productive right now. She could burn off this pent-up energy tingling her fingers. Teasing her with all the curses she could inflict.
The things about magic was, it came back threefold. She took a deep, calming breath. She needed to control her impulses, keeping her anger in check. As much as she wanted Isaac to pay for his betrayal, she didn’t need any help in the bad luck department. Sighing, she sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the half-painted school room and tried to envision her new life.
A noise echoed through the empty schoolhouse. Had the door opened?
“Mia,” her grandmother called. “Are you here, dear?”
“To your left, Grans.” Mia stood and dusted off the butt of her worn jeans, imagining dusting off Isaac and his bad energy at the same time. Keeping her karma clean seemed to be a full-time job since she’d left Boise.
Mary Alice Carpenter, tall and willowy, stood in the doorway to the foyer. The curl in her short gray hair was the only physical trait Grans and Mia shared. Mia stood a good five inches shorter than the older woman, while her curves would have made her prime model material, oh, about a hundred years ago.
Of course, besides her curly hair, she’d inherited power from her maternal grandmother. While her mother had turned away from the lure of magic, choosing the life of a corporate lawyer’s wife instead, Mia had embraced her heritage.
Her grandmother took one look at her and groaned. “I knew he wouldn’t stay gone. That boy is worse than spilt milk. You just can’t get rid of the smell.”
“I can handle Isaac.” Mia gave her grandmother a hug. “You don’t worry about him.”
Grans’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure dear? I’ve done a few transmutations in my time that may be quite appropriate.”
Mia bit back a laugh and glanced around the large room. “Seriously, don’t get involved. That part of my life is over. I’ve made a fresh start.”
“You’ve bought a rundown money pit that’s going to bankrupt you, just trying to keep the place warm.” A second woman followed her grandmother into the room, shoving a cell phone into her Coach bag. “Sorry, had to take that. Apparently, my long-lost nephew is gracing us with his presence at my birthday party. Probably needs money.”
“Adele, so nice to see you,” Mia managed to choke out after a death stare from her grandmother.
Adele Simpson stood next to Grans and glanced around the room, noticeable disgust covering her face. “Mary Alice, this is what you fought so hard with the board to save?”
“The building should be on the historic register. You and I both know it would have already been protected if it sat in the Sun Valley city limits. Magic Springs is always an afterthought with the historical commission.” Grans slipped off her down coat that made her look like a stuffed panda.
Mia watched the women bicker. Adele, the meanest woman in Magic Springs, was the dark to Grans’s light—and, for some unbeknown reason, Grans’s best friend. She was also Mia’s first and only client for her new venture. So far, she amended.
Gritting her teeth, Mia forced her lips into what she hoped was a passable smile. “Ladies, welcome to Mia’s Morsels.” She glanced around the room, sweeping her arm as she turned. “Currently, you’re in the reception area where staff and students will gather before classes and where we’ll do most of the daily work scheduling. Here, customers will be able to sample dishes and peruse a weekly menu of available meals.”
“You sound like a commercial.” Grans chided. “It’s just us. You don’t have to put on the sales pitch.”
Mia smiled. “Just trying it out. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I can even think about opening.” She nodded to the half-painted wall. “Do you like the color?”
Her grandmother nodded. “It’s friendly without being obnoxiously bright, like so many buildings. Day-care colors have swept through the decorating studios. I swear, the new crop of interior designers have no sense of style or class.”
“Fredrick just did Helen Marcum’s living room in pink.” Adele sniffed. “The room looks like an antacid commercial. I swear the woman shows her hillbilly roots every time she makes a decision.”
“I don’t believe Helen’s southern, dear.” Grans focused back on Mia, closing her eyes for a second. “Color holds a lot of power. Pull out your books before you go too far. Although if I remember, yellow represents the digestive system.”
Mia loved listening to her grandmother talk about the representations of power. Being kitchen witches was different than being Wiccan or what people normally would think of when you said witch. They didn’t wear black pointy hats or fly around the moon. Mia’s magic was more about the colors, the food, the process of making a house a home. That was one of the reasons her career choice was such a natural extension of her life. Food made people happy. She liked being around happy people. Sometimes magic was that easy.
“You are not doing woo-woo magic stuff again, are you, Mary Alice?” Adele shook her head. “Next you’ll be telling the girl to open on a full moon and wave around a dead cat.”
Grans looked horrified at her friend. “I would never tell her to desecrate an animal that way. We’ve been friends for over forty years. You should know better.”
“Oh, go fly your broom stick.”
Grans and Adele had been the swing votes on the board allowing Mia to purchase the property based on her pledge to save the building’s history. The losing bidder had presented a plan to bulldoze the school and replace it with a high-end retail mall. Instead, Mia had a place to start over. Grans always said the best way to get a man out of your head was to change your routine.
Mia may have gone a little overboard.
Her arms and back ached from painting. Another two, three hours, the room would be done. Then she could move on to the kitchen, the heart of her dream. Right now, all she wanted was to clean up the paint supplies and return to her upstairs apartment for a long soak in the claw-foot tub. The unexpected visitors had her skin tingling, a sure sign nothing good was about to happen.
Catering Adele’s birthday party had been an order more than a request, even though her business wouldn’t be completely up and running for a month or so. The planning for the event had gone smoothly, like an aged Southern whiskey. The final prep list for Saturday’s party sat finished on her kitchen table in the apartment. James, the chef at the Lodge, had allowed her time to prep in his kitchen tomorrow evening. By Sunday, she’d have a successful reference in the books for Mia’s Morsels. Now, without warning, the triumph she’d hoped for was slipping through her fingers.
“Add one, maybe two more, to the guest list. Who knows who he’ll bring from Arizona to help me celebrate.” Adele shoved a piece of paper toward her.
Mia glanced down. A name had been scrawled on the torn note paper, William Danforth, III. She hadn’t known Adele had any living relatives, no less a nephew. “How nice. Are you close?”
A harsh laugh came from the woman. “Close? I wasn’t kidding about the money. He’s checking
on his inheritance. I’m pretty sure he thought I’d be dead by now.”
“Now, Adele, at least he’s visiting.” Grans picked up Mr. Darcy, Mia’s black cat who’d wandered into the room. He’d probably been sleeping in one of the empty southern classrooms where the afternoon sun warmed the wood floors. He curled into her neck and started purring. Loudly.
Unfortunately, during a late summer visit to Grans’s house, Mr. Darcy had picked up a hitchhiker. The spirit of Dorian Alexander, who had been Grans’s beau before his untimely death, had taken up residence with Mia’s cat. A fact that weirded her out at times, especially at night when Mr. Darcy slept on the foot of her bed. Mia really needed to get Grans focused on a reversal spell. But this wasn’t the time to be chatting about spells and power. Instead she focused on Adele and her party.
“I’m sure he’s…” Mia stopped. What had she been going to say? That Adele’s nephew was nice? If the guy had any of Adele’s temperament, the guy would be a royal jerk.
Adele waved away her words, her hands showing her impatience, “Let me worry about Billy. You’re serving beef tomorrow.” The words weren’t a question.
“I’d planned to serve squab with raspberry sauce and wild rice for the main course.” Mia held her breath. Please no last minute changes—please.
