by Iris Kincaid
Jeff nodded gratefully at Erin. “You’ll never guess. Kira had already set up some auditions next month out in LA for our guys.”
“I thought he’d be mad,” Kira said. “I didn’t know how I was going to tell him.”
“I’ve got tons of vacation time built up. I can take three weeks off, no problem. Maybe it’s going to turn out that we’re Hollywood types.”
“Hollywood types! Does that mean you’re eventually going to turn me in for a young, pretty, hot second wife?”
“Why do I need to go to all that trouble when I already have a young, pretty, hot first wife?”
They giggled like newlyweds.
These two were wearing their thoughts on their sleeves—the Davenports were going to be just fine.
Hopefully, Erin’s favorite doctor was also going to be fine, despite some lingering demons. Orlando had my invited her over to his apartment. Erin hadn’t taken any photos during the camping trip, but Orlando had taken plenty and had promised to share them with her. Of course, he could have just emailed them to her. But both of them pretended to be unaware of that option.
Orlando’s apartment was bachelor central. Not untidy or anything. But just so bare, so basic, so devoid of furniture and decorations.
“I can see that you’re into minimalism,” Erin commented.
“I think I might just be into laziness. Or to put a charitable spin on it, I’m a busy workaholic with no design sense.”
“I hate to tell you, but this place could use a little pizzazz. You should hire someone. I actually know someone who might be able to give you some pointers. I mean, I don’t know if she designs apartments, but she really knows how to pick out a good wardrobe,” Erin said, thinking of Ruby. “And if she’s got a good eye for fashion, she’s probably got a good eye for decorating as well.”
Erin’s eye landed on a bookcase filled with what appeared to be photo albums. “Ooh, this looks like some old stuff. May I?”
“Sure. It might be pretty boring stuff, though.”
When you’ve got a big crush on someone, there’s nothing boring about their past. Their family, their baby photos, their Boy Scout years—everything provides a little window into their identity and a life experience that occurred before they met you, that helped to make them who they are.
“Here’s one of you camping. And here I thought you had this freakish innate ability to put tents up with no prior experience.”
“Nope. Not my first rodeo. I was a serious Boy Scout for about five years. Loved those camping trips.”
“And kayaking! This looks to be when you were a lot older. Are these pictures from college? Wow! There are a ton of them. You must’ve gone out on a lot of kayaking trips.”
“I did. That was one of my favorite things. Haven’t been in years though. Not since . . . not since my residency.”
Erin immediately knew that Orlando had stripped his life of what he considered to be pleasurable and frivolous activities after the malpractice event. What right had he to enjoy himself and have fun after he had engaged in an action that resulted in someone’s death?
Well, that was absolute nonsense. She loved the fact that he valued human life so much. She loved the fact that he took responsibility for his actions. She loved the pro bono work that probably stemmed from his guilt. But enough was enough.
This happy, beaming athletic face that she was seeing in all of these photos—she wanted him to be able to connect with that old, lighthearted, joyful self. She wanted to help bring that light and laughter back into his life. He needed her . . . or was that too pretentious a thought? Nope. He needed her, and she felt as if she couldn’t rest until Orlando Wicks was able to allow happiness back into his life.
He interrupted her musings. “So, can I interest you in lobster tonight?” As it so happened, there was a scheduled lobster bake as one of the major reunion events.
“That’s like offering to buy me a drink at an open bar.”
“That’s right.” He gestured to her. “Cheap date.” He gestured to himself. “Cheapskate. I’m on the malpractice budget plan. But when all this is over, I promise, I’ll take you out for a regular fantastic dinner. Or two. Or twenty.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Now, I actually have to run and take care of this . . . thing.” How else to describe the need to visit a dead body at the morgue, lay hands on it, and try to extract the final thoughts of the murder victim? But Fiona had said that this might work, so Erin really ought to give it a try.
She and Orlando parted in high spirits, looking forward to the evening’s outing on the beach. But first, Erin had a date with a cadaver.
She hadn’t expected to run into anyone on her way in, but there was Delphine Sykes, arms folded and shaking her head.
“Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin. I’m glad I caught you in time. I should have done a better job of warning you whom to listen to in this town and whom to avoid. Fiona is to be avoided. She is almost as bad as . . . as . . . well, I was about to say Lilith, but I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“How did you know that I’ve been talking to Fiona?”
“Lilith was there, listening in. She and Fiona were very antagonistic rivals, although there was no doubt in anyone’s mind of Lilith’s supremacy. Fiona resented being the second-most powerful witch in Oyster Cove and was deeply envious of Lilith’s talent.”
“Hmm. I guess I get that. So, what are you saying?”
“I am saying that Fiona is playing tricks on you. Yes, you were about to lay hands on a very cold, unpleasant dead body and wait for a message that was never coming. Fiona loves to make people look ridiculous, especially commoners. She loves displaying her superiority.”
“And I fell for it. I should have known better. I was getting very bad vibes from that woman. And are you saying that Lilith Hazelwood was also . . . kind of untrustworthy?”
“Lilith was a very complicated witch. Selfish and powerful, with dazzling talent. Never big on people skills, however. She would torment people more randomly and more relentlessly even than Fiona. Perhaps you can think of her as one of the mean girls from your high school days. Certainly not admirable, but there you have it.”
“I did know a really mean girl. But twenty years down the line, she’s changed. She’s changed so much. Did Lilith ever change?”
“Not much. Not yet. But where there’s life, there’s hope.”
“Um . . . there’s not really life, is there?”
“When there’s no life . . . I think there’s still a little hope. I think Lilith may yet improve. Say, Martine is coming over to my place for crab cakes. Why don’t you join us?
CHAPTER TEN
Delphine took a great deal of pride in her crab cakes, and deservedly so. Erin was positive that nothing she was going to have at the lobster bake could be as delectable. And the sauce! What was that? Cilantro?
It was great to see Martine again. The witch community was a very small club, and the subsection of it that resulted from a transplant from Lilith Hazelwood—that was a posse that had to stick together.
“Do you enjoy your work as a dental assistant?” Delphine asked.
“It’s a good job. It didn’t take long to train for, and the work isn’t difficult. The dentist I work for only works part-time hours, which worked out great when I had to go in for treatment so often.”
“I think what you’re trying to say is that your job suited your old life and old prospects very well,” Delphine said “But that’s not who you are anymore. Your new abilities will eventually demand to be used.”
Martine chimed in, “I never thought of being the weather girl. Not in a million years. I was a hacker, for heaven’s sake. And when the worthy occasion arises, I still tap into those skills a bit. But doing the weather is cool. It’s life or death for the fishing community.
“And for everyone else, they just like to be able to celebrate those big events in life—weddings, birthdays, graduations, and to know which days to plan them on. They thin
k I’m some kind of savant. They’re really starting to rely on me. People went into such a panic when they heard that I was going be gone for two weeks on my honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” Erin asked.
“That’s right. Honeymoon! In one month! But I’ve already written down and recorded all the forecasts for the time I’ll be gone. So, the fine citizens of Oyster Cove will still get their weather reports.”
How wonderful. Martine was getting married. Erin sure hoped that she got a chance to meet the lucky groom. Marriage was something that she had long assumed that she’d missed the boat on. And it was true that Martine was at least ten years younger than herself. Does happily ever after happen to the twenty-years-past-high-school crowd?
“And Delphine, you promised to finally introduce us to your guy,” Martine reminded.
“You have a guy?” Erin asked.
“Yes, dear, this old lady has a guy. And I won’t even ask what you’re implying. There’s no age limit for love or happiness, you know.”
“Yes, but . . . I mean, I’m happy to hear it. Not only because you deserve it, which you do. But it means that maybe there’s still a chance for me. You know, wedding, honeymoon . . . baby. Oh, I really am thinking way too far ahead.”
“Way too far ahead about whom?” Martine asked. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
“We barely know each other. I mean, actually, it feels like we really know each other. But it’s only really been a week. But I already feel . . . Martine, how long were you and your fiancé dating before you knew that he was the one, that you were going to get married?”
“Before we knew we were going to get married . . . about four dates. Possibly three. It’s because I can see the future. I knew he was the one I was going to be spending my life with. And I really needed to have that certainty. Maybe not everyone does, but I sure did. I trusted him. I never worried that I was making a mistake. You’re also going to have a special advantage when it comes to love.”
“I am?”
“You’re going to know exactly what he’s thinking. He can’t lie to you. He can’t deceive you. Is he crazy about you? Does it feel like he’s just settling while biding his time for something better? That’s just an example—having nothing to do with your situation! I’m just saying, you’ll know what’s in his heart. And you’ll be able to trust it.”
“I guess that’s a good thing. But it also feels kind of intrusive.”
Delphine scoffed with exasperation. “This is far too much guilt and second-guessing. Witches must have a slightly different code of ethics. It is never a sin or wrong to exercise your natural capabilities or to use them to your advantage or to the advantage of people you care about. I don’t want you holding back, Erin. You need the practice to fully mature your powers. After that, I will show you how to control them with more precision. Like an on and off switch, if you’d like. But on to more pressing matters. Tell us all about him.”
*****
Delphine had just said goodbye to her two young friends when there was an angry rapping on the door. She knew that it was Fiona even before the door was opened.
“What were they doing here?” Fiona demanded.
“Come in, Fiona. I don’t believe you’ve ever been in my home.”
“Do not think that you can keep secrets from me forever. I’ll ask one more time—what were they doing here?”
“Eating crab cakes and talking about love. Nothing that you would take a great interest in,” Delphine assured her.
“Do you plot against me?”
“Why? Have you engaged in an action worthy of retaliation?”
“That is not an answer. I have watched you, Delphine Sykes. One by one, you have taken them all under your wing. You teach them, influence them. Perhaps organize them. Perhaps it is your intention to unite their strengths to do the bidding of Lilith Hazelwood. I should have known better. I should have known that death alone would not be enough to rid this town of her.”
“Did you kill Lilith?”
“How could someone of such inferior ability such as myself kill the most powerful witch in the entire land?”
“Obviously, she wasn’t invincible, and someone did kill her.”
“Are you creating an army to avenge her?”
“What if I were?”
“That is not an answer.”
“Only the murderer need fear that outcome. Crab cake?”
“No! I do not want a crab cake.” Fiona left in a huff, snatching a crab cake on her way out.
Lilith may not have been entirely predictable in life, but Delphine had become extremely attuned to her patterns in death. She knew that Fiona’s visit would not go undiscussed, and she also knew that she wouldn’t have long to wait. She was right. Fewer than twenty seconds after Fiona’s departure, an agitated Lilith appeared.
“She will not confess,” Lilith complained.
“That does not equate with guilt.”
“She rejoices in my death. That alone is reason for punishment.”
“Lilith—I hope you find justice against your assassin. But have no thought of punishing people for rejoicing in your demise. They are far too many in number. If you recall, you wielded your power rather cruelly.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Lilith said, drifting off into an uncharacteristically satisfying moment of nostalgic reflection. “I have many fond memories of wielding that power. It would only have been more gratifying if the commoners had known exactly how terrifying I could be.”
It was Lilith’s brand of reminiscence. This was one mean girl who was unlikely to ever change.
*****
Men think about sex a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot. A lot. It’s probably a very good thing that most women, while suspecting this large quantity of thoughts, don’t actually have to listen in on them. Goodness. There didn’t seem to be an object or activity that didn’t lead Orlando’s thoughts to hopeful reminders that he might soon be treated to the awesome sight of Erin’s naked body.
They were reclining on a large beach towel at the lobster bake, taking in the mouth-watering buttery seafood smells and watching her classmates frantically take advantage of their next-to-last event together, save for the large final dance the following evening.
Orlando was very much fixated on Erin, but whenever his eye wandered away from her, his thoughts brought him back around. Ice cream cones, large oatmeal cookies, the billowing sails of nearby boats . . .
“There is no part of my body that looks like a seashell,” Erin protested. Well, maybe just a little.”
Even the sight of an attractive bikini-clad woman brought Orlando back to the thought of how sexy Erin would look in a swimsuit. How could she hold that against him? Martine had been right. It was a pretty big advantage to know everything about a man’s feelings for her. But she could also see his lingering questions and insecurities about how she felt about him.
That was blatantly unfair. Orlando didn’t know half as much about her as she knew about him. And she was carrying around a really big secret that he surely had the right to know. After all, his thoughts were being continually read by his new girlfriend—the witch. In a way, it was far bigger than the secret that he had eventually revealed to her, less traumatic, but huge. Would it make him feel too exposed? How would she feel if the tables were turned?
“So, after all this is over, I hope you know that you’re absolutely going to have to take me out for a kayaking lesson,” Erin said, hoping this topic would provide a little distraction from more carnal thoughts. It worked. For at least five . . . maybe as long as ten minutes. Clearly, it had been a long time since Orlando’s last girlfriend.
One surprising arrival at the large gathering was Wesley Gorman, and he was most definitely not there for lobster. He was making a beeline straight for Erin.
“Mr. Gorman, what a surprise.”
“Yeah, I really appreciate you and that cop letting me get some photos of my dad. They mean a lot to me. But I was wondering if you could he
lp me with something. I’m just confused about exactly what’s happening with the dates.” He pulls a few photos out of an envelope.
“A lot of these have a handwritten date on the back. Some even have a timestamp. Remember I told you that we were his second family, my mom and me, and that’s why we didn’t get the money? But these photos are from when he was with Regina Gorman. Some of them seem to be have been taken after I was born, and that’s crazy.
“That can’t be true, because he died when he was with us. That much I remember. I remember his being there, and not being there, and being told that he’d died at the hospital. That was when he was living with us. So how are these photos dated after he married my mother? I was just wondering if you could help me figure out exactly what’s going on.”
Erin took the photos and checked out the dates—twenty-two years previously. Well, they knew that Alex Gorman had committed bigamy. “What kind of job did he have? Did he go out of town often?”
“Yeah, he had to. He was a traveling . . . he . . . he had conferences all the time. It was one of my mom’s biggest regrets that they had spent so little time together while he was alive. He was out of town all the time.”
Erin and Orlando exchanged glances. “I think that he might have been out of town in Oyster Cove. The two marriages weren’t just legally overlapping—they were actively taking place at the same time. Which means . . . there’s a possibility, maybe even a good chance, that his marriage to your mother was his first marriage. The bad news is that he cheated on her. The good news is that she would be entitled to his inheritance, and you could probably contest for Regina Gorman’s estate.”
This should have been exciting news, but Wesley looked aghast. “The money should have gone to us all along?”
