I said nothing, deep in concentration.
Reaching the foyer, we set down the antique. “Is this where you want it?”
She nodded. “It’s an extra dresser. I’ve got one for the spare bedroom that isn’t as nice, but I want something I don’t mind everyone seeing down here. I’ll store winter gear in it so I can just grab it on my way out each morning.”
“You won’t need winter gear for too much longer.”
“Thank goodness! I’m so tired of being cold. I’m ready for the summer!” She poked at her stomach. “Maybe this will be ready, too.”
“You’ll be fine. You look better than you think. Besides, once summer is almost over, you’ll be looking forward to fall because you’ll be so tired of the heat.”
She laughed. “That’s why I love four seasons. Just when I’m tired of one, here comes another for me to enjoy.”
“We should go stand-up paddleboarding in Beaufort when it’s nice,” I suggested.
“That would be fun! I haven’t done that in a long time. What about paddleboard yoga? That’s really taking off now.”
“Why would you want to spoil the fun with yoga?”
Abby grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I think it’d be hilarious to watch you keep your balance on one of those boards.”
“Thanks, jerk,” I said, my tone light.
Her face darkened. “I’d like to see Lauren fall off one.”
“When are you going to just tell her to shove off?”
Abby sighed. “I keep hoping that if I’m nice to her, she’ll be nice to me.”
“She’s just a bully.”
“I never thought I’d still be bullied as an adult.” She sank down onto the floor, her back against a wall and her knees pulled to her chest.
Joining her, I said, “That’s why you have a talk with her. If you can’t work it out, then go to your principal and tell him that Lauren’s created a hostile working environment.”
Abby bit her lip. “I’m afraid that will make it worse. It’s pretty awful now. I hate going to work because I dread seeing her. I’m fine when I’m with my kids, but she’s not even holding back her nasty comments when we’re in the hallways now.”
“You need to talk to the principal,” I urged. “You work in a middle school. You’re not actually in middle school. It might help if you point out that the students can hear what she says and they would think that it’s okay to speak to each other that way.”
She laughed softly. “I think she’s forgotten that, but so have some of the other teachers. It’s a different animal from elementary.”
“I didn’t know you taught elementary school.”
“I did up until a few years ago. I had been working with third grade special needs children.”
“Why did you stop?”
Abby looked at me. “I don’t have a choice where they put me. I’m special needs, but I’m not specific to a grade or anything. They put me wherever they need me.”
“How could they not need you back at the elementary school?”
She motioned her hands outward, as if encompassing the entire town. “This isn’t a big town. It’s the Good Ol’ Boy Network. You know as well as I do that it’s not about what you can do, it’s about who you know. Especially in a smaller town.”
I nodded reluctantly in agreement.
“That was my case,” she continued. “Someone who is important has a relative who didn’t want to leave the area and they asked where that person wanted to be, and they said the place where I was. That left me displaced from my job and they found me another position at the middle school. There used to only be one special needs teacher. Now there are two of us.”
“Is the other teacher good to you?”
“She is for the most part. She’s happier for a smaller classroom so that she can have more one-on-one time with the kids. She’s also been there longer and she’s older, so she’s got the attitude of someone who just doesn’t put up with people’s crap.”
“Why can’t you get that attitude? I told you it’s all about confidence.”
Abby shook her head sadly. “It’s not that simple. I’m a nice person who doesn’t like confrontation. I can only do so much for myself and then I start to feel badly because I don’t want a fight. I just want to go to work and be left alone so that I can just focus on the kids. They’re what’s important.”
“There’s your solution. Ignore her.”
“Like the silent treatment?”
I snickered. “No, not like the silent treatment. Just ignore her. Pretend she doesn’t exist.”
“That’s the silent treatment.”
“You say tomato, I say potato.”
“I don’t think that’s how that goes.”
“Sure it does. I can’t stand tomatoes.”
Abby laughed and I was happy to hear it. She rose to her feet. “Why don’t we finish this and grab some dinner? Something wildly unhealthy for us because we have to have burned a zillion calories from all of this labor.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“The hibachi grill sound good to you?”
My mouth watered at the thought. “Perfection.”
After moving the rest of the furniture, we enjoyed the food tricks from the chef at Imperium.
I drove back to my house, my belly full of delicious shrimp sauce and steak. I parked and carried in the takeout I had brought with me in case Finn was hungry. He pulled his truck in behind me, his eyes on the ground as he followed me inside.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing the takeout bag away from me. He shoved off his boots and tossed them down the stairs before sitting on a barstool and opening his Styrofoam box. “This is still fresh and hot,” he murmured.
“Yeah, I left straight from there,” I said.
“It’s almost like magic.”
I froze.
“There are a lot of peculiar things that happen around here,” Finn continued behind mouthfuls.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”
I looked at him closely. “Finn, are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“No.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
He put down his fork. “I don’t know, Carmen. Things are just funny. They don’t always add up.”
I remained silent, though internally my thoughts were running a mile a minute. I was so careful to not use magic when Finn was near and I made sure that my friends knocked on the door instead of just popping in like they used to do.
There was a knock on the door and I excused myself. I answered it to find the same Eraser who had been at my housewarming party. “Don’t suppose you have any more of those hors d’oeuvres, do you?”
I stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind me. “You can’t go in there.”
“I take that as a no.”
I waved my hand and spinach-artichoke pinwheels appeared in a clear container. “Here,” I said, placing it into his hands.
“That’s not all that I need to do here.”
“He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“If he doesn’t know what he finds peculiar, then how will you know what to Erase?” I argued.
The Eraser looked at me thoughtfully. “You ought to be more careful.”
“I am!” I insisted. “I never use magic when he’s around. Or at least not in the same room.”
“What about your job? You’re supposed to be working from home according to your family.”
“He’s at work all day. He can’t possibly know that I’m not here.”
“Did it ever occur to you that he comes back here for lunch?”
“How did you know that?”
The Eraser shifted uncomfortably. “I have to check in once in a while,” he admitted.
“Do you know the truth about me?”
“I do.”
I swore. “What’s the point in all of this secrecy about what I’m really up to now?”
He shrugged. “You got me. You know how Fate likes to be Fate. They like their games. It was pretty hilarious watching one of those vendors back in South Bend ask out your android. That Sam Francisco did a pretty good job.”
“He goes by Samuel for a reason,” I pointed out. “Did someone really ask the Carmen android on a date?”
“Scout’s honor,” the Eraser said, holding up his hands in a peace sign.
“I don’t think that’s right.”
“Whatever. I had to go up and Erase his memory, but not before I watched the other Carmen blubber her way through an excuse. Simon had to come in and lead her away.”
“I bet Simon’s having a hell of a time with all of that.”
“He is, but you know Simon. He rolls with the punches.”
“How do you know Simon?”
“I get around. Not like that, but I wish! Sorry, I’m off topic. I do get around, though. Lately I’ve been assigned to work with you more often. From a distance, obviously. It’d be weird if I was here all of the time.”
“Oh, yes, because you keeping tabs on me from afar isn’t creepy at all,” I said drily.
“I’m going to have to come in there and take care of Finn for now.”
“You come past this door and I’ll hang you upside down by your toenails over tapioca pudding.” I couldn’t allow the Eraser inside and make Finn feel worse than he already did.
The Eraser scowled. “That’s just gross.”
“And painful.”
“I have a job to do. He’ll be happier once I do it, I promise.”
I shook my head. “I think he’s upset about something else.”
“I’ll pose as a delivery guy and get him to sign something. I can touch him when he reaches for the pen. He’ll never even know I was here.”
“Tapioca pudding. Don’t even try me,” I warned. “I’ll talk to him. If he’s still upset, you can come back tomorrow and take care of him.”
“I ought to go to the Council and file a complaint,” he grumbled.
“Go ahead.” I swallowed, hoping the Eraser wouldn’t notice my nervousness.
He sighed. “Fine. I’ll come back tomorrow if he’s still behaving this way.”
“Thank you for being so nice and understanding about this.”
“No problem. That and I’m a little scared. I heard what you did to your ex-husband. You probably really wouldn’t give a damn if I filed a complaint, would you?” He stared at me for a moment. “No, you wouldn’t.” He turned to walk down the steps leading to the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow,” he yelled.
“Don’t count on it.”
Finn was finishing his dinner when I returned to the kitchen. “Who was at the door?”
“No one important,” I lied.
“See? It’s things like that that are weird. People don’t just show up at people’s houses, but your friends seem to drop by whenever.”
“That’s not true. They come by once in a while on the weekends. There’s nothing wrong with having visitors.”
My stepbrother closed the takeout box and took it over to the trash can. He dumped it in and turned back toward me. “It is when they don’t even live nearby,” he snapped.
“What’s your real problem, Finn?” I asked softly.
“It’s weird being here.”
“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”
“I am!” Finn insisted.
I leaned against the counter and caught his gaze. “Liar,” I said bluntly. “You can’t possibly be this upset that I have friends who drop by once in a while to see me. You’re either picking a fight just to pick a fight or something else is bothering you.”
Finn sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m having a tough time at work.”
“Why?”
“I realized today that there isn’t much room for advancement. I could be a foreman and then that’s it for me.”
“You could be a project manager,” I pointed out.
Finn frowned. “I don’t have an education.”
“Go back to school.”
“At my age?” he asked, incredulous.
“People of all ages are going back to school these days. The days of people in their late teens and early twenties being the only students are far gone.”
“The truth is that I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. It’s not very fulfilling.”
“Is there something else you’d rather do?”
Finn shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m good at what I’m doing now. I build things. I fix things. People need construction workers like me so that they can live more comfortable lives.” He absently removed his baseball cap and ran his hand over his hair. “I don’t know what else I could do. What makes me happy doesn’t pay my bills.”
“What makes you happy?”
“Going to the bar, drinking beer, and talking to women.” Finn smiled sheepishly and I laughed.
I leaned across the counter and patted his shoulder. “If that was a profession, there would be a lot more happy people in the world. Maybe you could find something on the side that would help you feel better. What about playing guitar at Loretta’s? We haven’t done that yet.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Finn’s mouth. “I suppose we could go do that.”
“You can get paid by day for something you’re good at, and be ogled by night for something you’re also good at doing.”
“Who is ogling me?”
“You know they say that guitar players get all of the action. Don’t you know your band trivia? Singers, guitar players, and drummers are the most popular. Bass players, not so much.”
“Bass players are underappreciated.”
“I had a crush on a bass player once,” I admitted.
“You had a thing for a musician?” Finn asked.
“I did. I was about nineteen and there was this guy, Warren.”
“His name was Warren? Sounds like a winner already,” Finn said sarcastically.
“Shut up, Finn. He was hot. He had messy brown hair that, nowadays, I’d say he needed a haircut. I was into it back then.”
“I bet he threw one of those wool beanies over it. He probably even wore it during the summer because he thought it looked cool.”
“Would you shut up and let me finish my embarrassing story?” I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had been absolutely correct in his observation.
“Go on. I love to hear about other people’s misfortune.”
“Thanks. Maybe.” I flashed a grin and continued. “He played for a band that I had heard at one of the bars. I liked their music so much that I would make sure I saw their shows whenever they played. Warren caught my eye one night while he was playing and I just felt this connection.”
Finn groaned and rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
“We started talking about their set and we would do that after all of their shows. I kind of became a groupie.”
“You were a loser.”
“Groupie.”
“Loser.”
“A huge fan of their music,” I compromised. “I overheard one of his bandmates ask him if he liked me and I was so happy when I heard Warren tell him that yes, he did. Warren would never ask me out, though, and I was too shy then to do it myself. Instead we just kept talking after shows. One day I told one of my friends, Avril, that I had a crush on him. She had known him longer than I had and just said that it was nice that I liked him. I told her I didn’t know what was wrong because Warren hadn’t asked me out yet and she told me she’d find out for me.”
“That’s kind of childish. Why not just have her give him a note from you that asks, ‘Do you like me? Circle yes or no?’”
“Ha ha, Finn,” I deadpanned. “I was a teenager.” I dramatically tossed my short hair over my shoulder. “I was nowhere near the level
of sophistication that I possess today.”
My stepbrother snickered.
“We went out that night to watch the band play. After they were finished, Warren sauntered over to our table. His eyes got really big when he saw Avril and I just remember she gave him this extremely sweet smile before asking him, ‘Hey, Warren. How’s your girlfriend doing?’”
Finn inhaled sharply. “What!” he exclaimed.
“Warren muttered that she was doing just fine and walked away. I don’t know why Avril didn’t just tell me. She always had a flair for the theatrics, but either way, my crush ended immediately. That’s why bass players can’t be trusted.”
“I still say they’re underappreciated.”
“We can agree to disagree.”
“Are you kidding? That guy was so smooth that he had you following along for weeks. That’s an underrated skill set right there.”
I wanted to tell my stepbrother that an underrated skill set was me ensuring that each of his strings broke in the middle of every set for the next month, but I had to keep that to myself. I had popped into a restroom stall at the various places where they played and walked out long enough to point at the strings on his bass guitar, see his frustration as they sprang apart from the headstock, and return to the stall where I’d disappear. That had been really fun. I smiled at the memory.
“Karma’s a bitch. The guitar player went off to medical school and the band broke up, never to play again.”
“I don’t know if that’s karma. That just sounds like life got in the way.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Can’t you just let me have this?”
It was Finn’s turn to pat me on the back before heading toward the stairs that led to his bedroom. He shouted over his shoulder, “Nope. Someone has to be realistic in this house.”
Finn’s on the right track. He’s close to where he needs to be. Abby, on the other hand, is a different animal.”
I crossed one leg over the other and clasped my hands together on top of my knee. “I don’t know what to do about her. She’s a nice woman. I wish she’d stand up for herself more when it comes to Lauren Lennox, but she just won’t do it. She claims that she doesn’t like confrontation and won’t tell anyone else about it. I don’t mind being there for her to vent, but I can’t help her. Not in the way that she needs. I know she’s supposed to do something else, but I need more details so that I can guide her in that direction.”
A Witchly Influence Page 12
