by Nancy Warren
I had started packing up a few things, getting ready for my move into Rafe’s manor house. I’d never met a cat who embraced change, and Nyx, familiar or not, was no different. She’d jumped into my packing boxes when I was in the middle of packing them and glared at me. I tried to explain to her that this was a good thing, and she’d be spending more time with her debatably second favorite person in the world, but I sometimes suspected she thought I was up to no good. She, like Violet, seemed to think that my marriage was entirely designed to make her life more miserable.
A narcissistic assistant I could probably deal with, but a narcissistic familiar? That had to be against the witchy rules.
A few minutes later, I was relieved that I’d warned Violet my mother was in town when Mom walked into the shop. She looked well-rested and full of plans. My mother has supervised the unearthing of entire dynasties of illustrious Egyptians and Syrians. When she is full of energy, my heart usually quails. I do not wish for my plans and my secrets to be dug up, dusted, investigated, and put on display. But, invariably, that’s how my mother gets to work.
She was thrilled to see Violet and gave her a big hug. Then she glanced around the shop and shook her head. “It’s funny. Every time I come here, this shop is smaller than I remember.”
And amazingly, every time she said it, I still wanted to poke her in the belly with one of the knitting needles.
I restrained myself, of course, and had the pleasure of seeing Meri walk in.
“You remember Meri?” I said to Violet. Meri’s not understanding technology had been a slight hindrance when she’d worked here, but she was so very pleasant, such a good knitter, and so good at serving people that she’d been in many ways a much better assistant than Violet.
While I took Meri around and showed her the few changes we’d made since she’d been there, and she ran her small hands over some of the new crochet cottons including a pretty shade of pale pink, I said, “Why don’t you crochet yourself a sweater while you’re here?” I smiled at her. “You still get the employee discount. That’s as immortal as you are.”
She giggled behind her hand. “I would like to make something pretty. I am as yet unaccustomed to your shops. It is much easier for me to craft my own garments.” She sighed. “I will make something pretty to wear to your wedding.”
I loved this plan. We pulled out some magazines and chose a pretty, lacy, short-sleeved sweater that I thought would look gorgeous on her. I told her I’d take her shopping before the wedding and choose a skirt to go with it. While we were doing this, Mom and Violet were chatting away like the best of friends. Okay, they were related, but our two families had not been close until recently. I was suspicious about what they had to talk about with such animation.
When I got back over to them, Mom said, “Violet and I have put our heads together about your hen party. You’ll have to excuse Violet. I’m sneaking her away for a little while.”
I raised my eyebrows and tried to skewer my wayward assistant with my coldest glance. She was impervious.
“I’ll take an early lunch,” Violet said.
“It’s eleven o’clock,” I protested.
“Oh nonsense, Vi,” my mother said. “Lucy can do without you for the rest of the day. Besides, I’m sure Meri would love to catch up with Lucy, and she can assist in the shop if it gets busy.” And wasn’t that nice of my mother to take charge of my shop, my staffing, and drag Violet out to plan a hen party that I did not want. My day was turning out really well.
On the plus side, Meri was a pleasure to be around, and instead of constantly sniping at me, turned to me as though I had all the answers in the universe. It made for a refreshing change.
She said, “I am very happy to help in your beautiful shop. I have missed you and Cardinal Woolsey’s.”
It was so nice to have her back. “We’ve missed you. But I bet it’s nice to be home.”
“It is. Everything is so much more familiar to me in Egypt. Especially when I am unearthing those I have known in life.”
I couldn’t imagine. That must be weird. I said, “Don’t worry about helping. Go sit in the visitor’s chair and start on your sweater. If it gets busy, I’ll call you.”
She looked shocked. “I cannot sit at my leisure while you work. You make light of saving me from the prison in which I was trapped for two thousand years, but I am forever grateful. Please, you sit and let me work.”
Well, this was never going to happen. For one thing, I couldn’t crochet a sweater. I supposed I could make a start though. I said, “I tell you what. I’ll bring another chair out, and we’ll sit together. Maybe I’ll make myself a sweater. Could you help me if I get stuck with the crochet?”
“It would be my pleasure.” And so the two of us sat working away. The thing with crochet is at least there’s only one hook and not two needles. And you can do things like squares and pieces that you sew together later. I know you can do that with knitting, too, but it seems more common with crochet. Anyway, I decided that I would crochet myself one of those pretty, short-sleeved sweaters in mint green. If Meri and I wore them together and stood side by side, no doubt we’d look like a couple of Easter eggs, but I couldn’t imagine that would happen very often, if at all. And imagine Rafe’s surprise when I showed up wearing a sweater that I’d actually made myself.
We worked away happily, and when a customer came in, either I would serve them or Meri would. It didn’t seem to matter. It was a sunny day in Oxford, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Violet not being here was like a black cloud had wafted out the door.
No sooner had I had that thought than a very different and frankly darker black cloud wafted in the door. I felt a slight chill and looked up to find Margaret Twigg standing staring at the two of us crocheting away as though we were two kids skipping school and she was our strict teacher. But then, she always had that effect on me.
From her basket in the window, Nyx stood on all fours, arched her back and hissed. She was not fond of Margaret Twigg.
I put down my crochet and stood up. “Margaret, what are you doing here?” If I’d had more time to think, I would have said, “What a pleasure to see you,” even though it wasn’t. I was even annoyed at myself that I’d stood up. I should have remained sitting. It was my shop, after all. But, somehow, Margaret Twigg intimidated me so much that I’d rather stand up so at least we were somewhat on the same level.
As far as I knew, Margaret Twigg did not knit, so by process of elimination she was here on witch business.
“I haven’t seen you since Beltane,” she said. I could still recall the ceremony and the fires as we witches welcomed spring.
“I’ve had a lot going on. Like planning a wedding.”
She said, “I’ve come to talk to you about officiating at your wedding. Do you want a proper, traditional Wiccan ceremony?”
I felt as though my ears had suddenly blocked up with ice. What was all this about Margaret Twigg being our wedding officiant? It was the first I’d heard of it. And I was pretty certain Rafe wouldn’t have asked her to take on such an important task without discussing it with me.
I swallowed. “Wedding officiant?” I asked as though I’d never heard the term before.
“Yes,” she said, a touch impatient. “I need to know what sort of ceremony you want. Obviously, I’ll be the one to marry you and Rafe. I am the head of your coven, after all.”
“But don’t you need to be a licensed Registrar?” I had done a bit of research. Bizarrely, a garden wedding wasn’t legal. A marriage had to occur in a fixed building. But Margaret waved such details aside. “You’ll have a short, legal ceremony at the registry office beforehand, and I’ll perform the ceremony to celebrate your union.”
Actually, that made a lot of sense. I was going to have to do better than this if I didn’t want to have Margaret Twigg officiating at my wedding. If I wanted to turn and run in the middle of the ceremony, I wouldn’t be able to. I’d have to say “I do” or risk the wrath of Ma
rgaret. Not that I wanted to run away from my own wedding. Just having her looking at me was giving me crazy thoughts.
“I hadn’t—Rafe and I haven’t—”
“Discuss it with him and let me know, but don’t leave it too long. I’ll have to make preparations.”
I nodded, too confused to say a word.
She nodded briskly. “I’ll let you get back to it. Good afternoon, Meritanum.”
“Good afternoon.”
Even the bells seemed to have a different sound when she shut the door on her way out. Almost as if they were giving out bell-like sighs of relief.
Meri said in a small voice, “That witch frightens me.”
“That witch frightens me, too. And now it seems like she’s going to be the one marrying me.”
Meri giggled. “No. It is Rafe who will be marrying you. And that is something all of us who wish you well have wanted for a very long time.”
When she put it like that, the actual ceremony didn’t matter much at all.
I sat back down again and resumed my crochet. The nice thing about working with Meri was that she also moved her needle at a human pace. I felt less intimidated than with my usual knitting and crochet companions, who’d have had an entire sweater completed in the time it took me to knit—and then probably have to unpick—a single row.
Not long after that, Sylvia walked in from the street. She blinked when she saw Meri and then, recognizing her, went forward with her hands held out. “Meri. What a pleasure to see you here.”
Meri was a great favorite with the vampires. She rose and returned Sylvia’s embrace.
“Everyone will want to see you. Especially Agnes. Poor Agnes, she feels so shut in knowing that her daughter is in town and she daren’t be seen.”
“That is very sad,” Meri said.
“But seeing you will cheer her up. Why don’t you come down tonight? It will be a surprise for Agnes and a very welcome one. You can spend the evening with us.”
Meri looked up at me as though she needed my permission, and I nodded. “That’s a great idea. And if it gets late, you can stay in the guest room upstairs.”
She nodded. “I would be most honored.” Then she looked down and blushed. “But Pete will come and fetch me.”
Sylvia chuckled. “And Pete is fetching you, is he? Well, well. I suppose one saw that coming. We’ll be making another wedding gown soon, I imagine.”
Meri was the color of her crochet cotton. “He has not spoken. Please. I do not know—”
“Stop embarrassing her,” I said to Sylvia. When I saw the way Pete looked at Meri, I suspected Sylvia was correct, but we should let them figure out their plans first. Not that the vampires excelled at staying out of other people’s business, as I knew only too well.
“I am most grateful and honored by your kind invitation,” Meri said again.
“It’s so nice to see a young woman with such good manners,” Sylvia said.
And then, with a slight glance at me, she headed into the back room. I didn’t know if she was trying to intimate that I didn’t have good manners or that she would quite like it if I was a little more servile. That was not going to happen.
I was about to close up shop when my mother returned, alone. She said, “Oh, we had a delightful afternoon. She’s such a lovely girl, Violet.”
“She is. Also, a very good shop assistant.”
My sarcastic barb went wide. The door opened again, and if I’d thought it might be my wayward assistant here to help close, I was wrong. It was my dad, looking very pleased with himself. “I’ve had a marvelous afternoon at the Ashmolean. Met up with Hughes. Been talking about a joint project. It could be very exciting.”
“That’s great, Dad.” Professor Hughes had gone to school with my dad and written a few books that had quoted my parents. I’d much rather talk about Egyptology with my folks than my wedding.
My mother, however, was not to be so easily distracted. And usually Mom was as obsessed as my dad with their work.
She said, “That’s wonderful, Jack. And you can tell me all about it later. But your father and I were speaking last night, Lucy, and we’ve decided to sell our home in Boston.”
“Sell the family home?” This came out of nowhere.
Dad was looking pleased, and Mom continued, “We talked it over, and really we were keeping it in case you needed a place to go when things didn’t work out.”
Oh, didn’t I sound like a winner in their eyes. Had they really kept the house in case I needed a bolt hole?
“Where will you live?”
They glanced at each other. “We think we’ll come here when we retire so we can be nearer to our only daughter.”
Okay, I could see that was going to be fraught with problems, but I’d cross that bridge…
My dad entered the discussion. “We’ve put by a nice sum for when you got married, but I spoke to Rafe, and he says the wedding will cost next to nothing, seeing as it’s being held at his house and catered by his staff. He refused our money, so we thought we’d add it to the house money and buy something nice here.”
My mother nodded. “We almost spent your wedding money on a new car. After you and Todd broke up, it didn’t seem likely that we’d be called upon to pay for a wedding.” They both chuckled as though this were a humorous anecdote.
I was long over the humiliation of Todd’s betrayal, but nobody likes to be reminded of that day their boyfriend butt-dialed them while engaging in amorous activities with somebody else.
“First, however, we’ve got your hen party to think about. Violet and I had such fun planning it.” Her eyes twinkled. I hadn’t seen Mom that excited since she dug up a jeweled bracelet that could have belonged to Cleopatra.
Clearly, I hadn’t managed to impress upon Vi how very much I did not want this. I turned to Mom. “Please, I don’t want to be paraded through the streets of Oxford on some drunken pub crawl.”
“Nonsense. It’s a rite of passage, my love. Don’t worry. We’ll be there to hold you up if you get tipsy.” So not the maternal support I’d been hoping for.
I wanted to argue more, but Dad grabbed my mother’s arm. “Come on, Susan. We’ve got drinks with Professor Pinkerton and her husband. Mustn’t keep them waiting.”
Mom glanced at her watch. “Right. Never a dull moment.” And with a wave, she and my dad were off.
Chapter 6
Sunday morning found me at Rafe’s place. We were enjoying a lazy morning which seemed more than usually luxurious as I’d been so busy recently. William made me brunch—eggs Florentine with homemade cheese scones. So good. While I ate, I told Rafe about my dread over my hen night and my mother’s insistence on this embarrassing ritual.
“Poor you,” he said, looking slightly appalled.
I put extra butter on my scone. Not that I needed it, but I had no willpower where William’s cooking was concerned. “I relied on Violet to stop her, but Vi’s as bad. How am I going to get out of this?”
“I’m not sure you can. It’s only one night, and if it gets too much, text me and I’ll spirit you away.”
“Unless you’re underneath a lap dancer at the time,” I muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“My father’s got plans, too, you know. For you.”
“I’ll have Lochlan put a stop to that. All the wedding planning seems to be precipitously early.”
He was right. Even Jennifer, my oldest friend, had decided to make a holiday of it and was arriving tomorrow. She was a fan of the exclamation mark at the best of times. When she was excited, there were more punctuation marks than letters.
“Hey Loose!!!!!!!!!!” her most recent email had started.
“Sick news!!!!!!! I got extra time off work and I’m headed your way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can’t wait to catch up, see Oxford and meet the fiancé!!!!!!!!!!!! Can’t believe you found your lobster first!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I had to smile that she’d used a Friends reference. We’d watched all ten se
asons together.
I’d tried to explain it to Rafe, but he had no idea who Ross and Rachel were or why anyone would be interested in them. The lobster thing was a step too far. I could imagine him looking at me, all cool and intellectual, and saying, “But that’s absurd. Lobsters don’t mate for life. They’re not even monogamous.”
I didn’t even try.
Apart from his lack of modern culture, Rafe was an excellent companion, and we chatted about his work, my work, the wedding, the future. Now that I’d accepted my feelings for him and his proposal, we were free to share everything, knowing we’d be part of each other’s lives until death did us part. Mine, most likely, but I pushed that thought away.
When William returned to clear my all-but-licked-clean plate, he brought in a wrapped gift. “This came for you both by private courier.”
“Ooh, a present,” I squealed.
Rafe looked amused. “You’re like a small child at Christmas.”
“I don’t care what you think. I love presents.”
“Then you’d better open it.”
I pulled the silver ribbon away and happily tore into the white and silver paper. Inside was a white cardboard box. I removed the lid and peeked inside.
I saw something wooden that appeared old. Gingerly, I lifted out a box with strange symbols carved into it. I thought at first the writing was Egyptian hieroglyphics, which I could read, having spent many a summer helping my parents on digs. However, while the symbols were similar, they weren’t Egyptian.
I showed Rafe, who accepted the box and studied the inscription. “These are runes,” he said. “Very old. I wonder if this is from Lochlan.” He glanced around. “Was there a card?”
I’d been so eager to unwrap the present, I hadn’t even looked for a card. Now we searched, but there wasn’t any indication who the gift had come from. “Open the box,” I said. “Maybe there’s a card inside.”
Sometimes I’m not so smart.
