by Rose Pressey
Chapter Seven
“Let me get a little information from you and then I’ll show you to your room.”
Annabelle stood behind Liam making faces and gesturing. To answer her mimed question: I had no idea what I was going to do. I surreptitiously motioned for her to knock it off. Despite all my actions to the contrary, I was attempting to appear somewhat professional. Attempting being the key word.
“That sounds great.” Liam frowned, then sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”
“Oh no.” I dashed through the rooms headed for the kitchen. “The pancakes,” I yelled.
The sound of rushed footsteps followed me as I raced to the kitchen and slid toward the stovetop as if I was making it to home plate. Black smoke billowed from the pan. I grabbed the spatula and flipped the burnt pancake off the griddle onto the floor.
Annabelle’s mouth hung open and her eyes widened. I knew what she was thinking without her saying a word. First impressions were a bitch, and I’d just made a doozy of an impact on Liam Rankin.
More footsteps echoed through the parlor. When I looked toward the kitchen entrance, Nicolas stood at the threshold, staring down at the black disk that had once been a pancake.
“I’m sorry. Let me whip up a fresh batch.” My face must have been blood red.
Nicolas didn’t seem interested in breakfast food though. He was glaring at Liam with an expression of extreme agitation. The men stared at each other for a moment, then Nicolas focused his attention my way.
“You really don’t have to go to any trouble on my account,” he said.
He was taking pity on me. I didn’t want my first bed-and-breakfast attempt to be a complete failure.
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m making more for me and Annabelle too.” I pointed at Annabelle as I scraped the pancake from the floor and dumped it into the trash.
Annabelle’s mouth was still wide open. I never thought I’d see the day that I’d officially left her speechless.
She finally came out of her trance and nodded. “Yes, Hallie’s pancakes are delicious.”
I could always count on my best friend to lie when necessary. Her eyes remained wide as she studied Nicolas, then Liam again.
The smoke had begun to dissipate from the charbroiled pancake, but something else in the air had replaced the smoke. A strange electrifying tension pulled at the air around us.
“I’ll serve breakfast in the dining room if you’d like to have a seat. It’ll just take a second. It’s the first room on the left through that hall.” I pointed down in the general direction, giving them a pleading look. “Liam, you’ll eat too. You must be tired and hungry.”
Liam gestured for Nicolas to go first. I could have sworn Nicolas snarled at him.
Annabelle’s jaw had apparently stopped working. “Shut your mouth before it stays that way permanently,” I whispered.
She peered down the hallway. When the men were out of sight, she said, “Hallie, what the hell is going on? There’s enough electrical tension in this room to light up the house for a year.”
I waved the whisk through the air. “Do you feel that too? I thought I was imagining things.”
If Annabelle felt it, then I knew something weird was definitely going on. She was one of the most non-magical people I knew. She never picked up on vibes or anything.
“Help me finish breakfast so I can get in there and figure out what is going on.” I draped the apron over my head and tied it around my waist.
“Here, why don’t you let me do the pancakes and you get some bacon out of the fridge.” She eased the whisk from my hand.
I didn’t resist.
After hurrying with the food, Annabelle and I rushed down the hallway to the dining room. We stopped short just outside the closed door. The men were talking, but in hushed tones. They clearly didn’t want to be overheard.
“What are they saying?” Annabelle whispered.
“I can’t make it out.” I motioned for her to be quiet as I leaned closer to the door. I picked up one of the OJ glasses off the tray, and placed it to the wood, then put my ear against it.
“You’re not fooling anyone, Marcos, least of all me. I know exactly why you’re here and if you think I plan on letting you find it before I do, you’re sorely mistaken.”
That was Liam.
Another voice, I assumed Nicolas, responded in lower tones. I couldn’t make out anything besides “Underworld” and “Mara.” He sounded furious.
My heart rate increased. Okay, I didn’t want to alarm Annabelle, but we were about to walk in on something serious. What were they looking for? Who was Mara? Had I heard him correctly?
I kept my ear pressed against the glass, but nothing. They’d stopped talking, as if they knew we were right outside the door listening.
I’d tell Annabelle what I’d overheard later. Maybe. I motioned with a tilt of my head for her to go in.
She shook her head. “You first,” she mouthed.
I let out a deep breath. “Fine,” I whispered.
“Breakfast is served,” I said in my sweeter-than-honey voice as I pushed through the swinging door.
The men sat on opposite sides of the large mahogany table, as if they were ready for a duel. That same thick tension hung in the air.
I placed the plates in front of each guest, then took a seat at the middle of the table. Annabelle scooted her chair closer to mine.
“I had no idea you had another guest,” Nicolas said while staring at Liam.
Liam didn’t answer. Silence reigned and neither man had even glanced down at their plates. I knew the cooking might be questionable, but they could at least have pretended to take a few bites.
To relieve the awkward silence, I said, “Well, it is a bed-and-breakfast.” I smiled and took a bite to show them that the food was perfectly safe.
Apparently it worked, because both men picked up their forks.
“Will you be staying long?” Nicolas asked.
“As long as it takes,” Liam replied while attempting to cut his pancakes.
Did they even remember that we were there? They didn’t glance at Annabelle or me.
“Tell me… Mr. Rankin, is it?” Nicolas pushed his fork around on the plate.
He wasn’t fooling me with that old trick. I had used the same stealthy move to fake eating my mother’s pickled beets for years.
Liam scowled. “Yes.”
“What is your line of work?” Nicolas asked.
Liam took a bite and chewed as if he was chewing the words. Finally, he said, “I’m a detective.”
My jaw fell open. When I glanced at Annabelle, she had the same expression. A detective? Of what? For where?
“That’s interesting. What brings you to Enchantment Pointe?” Nicolas tapped his fork against the plate.
Shouldn’t I be asking those questions? Nicolas wasn’t even going to ask what police department Liam worked for? That was kind of an important question in my book. Annabelle shifted in her seat.
“I was about to ask you the same question of you, Mr. Marcos,” Liam retorted.
Nicolas flashed a devilish grin. “I’m traveling to New Haven on business,” he said through a fixed smile.
Watching their exchange was like watching a tennis match, only I wasn’t able to keep score.
“I heard there’s a nice Holiday Inn there. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” Liam stuffed a bite of pancake in his mouth.
Nicolas didn’t take his gaze off Liam. They were in a staredown.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Nicolas snapped.
Liam shoved his plate back and pushed to his feet.
I stood. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rankin. With all the chaos, I forgot to show you to your room. You must want to get settled.”
“That would be nice. Thank you. But please, call me Liam. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Preston.” Liam reached out and took Annabelle’s hand again, lightly placing his lips to her skin. “I’ll just get my bags.” He nodded a goodbye, then st
epped out of the room.
Before I had a chance to speak, Nicolas stood from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few phone calls to make.”
“Of course.” I smiled.
After he’d cleared the room, Annabelle let out a deep breath, then said, “Well, that was the strangest breakfast I’ve ever had. And I’ve been to the all-you-can-eat buffet at Bobby Lee’s Steak and Chicken House.”
I couldn’t tell Annabelle what I’d overheard… not yet. Maybe they’d said something entirely different from what I’d thought I’d heard. After all, I had been listening through glass.
“There is definitely something they’re not telling me. But I plan on getting to the bottom of it. They can’t come in here and act all weird and not expect me to get involved.”
“You tell them, Hallie. Who the heck do they think they are?” Annabelle helped me collect the dishes and we hurried to the kitchen.
“They may be completely off their rockers, but did you see the dimples when Liam smiled at you? That was enough to make me melt right there.” Annabelle placed the plates in the sink.
“He is good-looking, huh?” I wiped my hands on the towel.
“Like I said, weird, but good-looking.”
“I’ll just go show him to his room,” I said, walking toward the parlor.
She grabbed the back of my shirt. “Oh, you’re not leaving me alone in here. I’m coming too.”
“Okay, but let’s hurry. I want to hear if they’re talking to each other again.” I motioned for her to step up the pace.
Liam stood at the front door with his arms folded in front of his muscular chest. Nicolas was nowhere in sight. I’d half expected to find them crossing swords right there in the foyer. Liam grabbed his bag when he saw me.
“It’s just up on the third floor,” I offered.
I was probably asking for trouble by putting them in adjacent rooms.
We made our way up the stairs. I led the way and Annabelle followed behind like the caboose. This guy probably wondered why he needed two women to escort him to his room. A familiar smell circled me as I moved up the steps, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was the aroma coming from Liam? Spicy and warm, with a hint of something else.
We moved past Nicolas’ room. The door was closed, but no noise came from inside. At the end of the hall, we reached the room I’d picked out for Liam. Annabelle stood back as I opened the door. Liam walked through and set his bag down on the hardwood floor.
“Please let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a gracious host. I’d like to apologize if things seemed awkward downstairs.” He leaned against the tall bed post.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but…” Since he’d brought it up first—are you sure you’ve never met Mr. Marcos before? Because it really seems like you have.”
“No. I don’t know him,” he said matter-of-factly. “Some men just feel threatened, I suppose.”
Talk about cryptic. I huffed in frustration. Soon enough I’d be rid of both of them and could put this weird encounter behind me for good.
“Like I said, I’m here if you need anything.” I stepped out of the room more confused than ever.
After leaving Liam, Annabelle and I passed Nicolas’ door. We exchanged a glance. The door was now open.
“It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek and see what he’s doing in there, would it?” I asked.
I poked my head in and looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. But where was Nicolas?
“You can’t spy on your guests,” Annabelle said as she moved closer. She spoke the words but didn’t look as if she meant them.
“He’s not in there,” I whispered. “Let’s just take a little look.”
“Are his bags gone?” she asked.
“I don’t see them. Do you think he left for good?” Why did my stomach sink with the thought?
Annabelle stepped into the room. “After that breakfast I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“But he didn’t even pay me yet.” I peered out the window at the river. Unlike yesterday, the water was perfectly still.
Annabelle shook her head. “People can be so nasty,” she said with disgust in her voice. “You should insist Liam give you a straight answer. It’s like my mother always says, nagging works. If you nag him long enough maybe he’ll cough up the details.”
Annabelle’s adoptive mother was over-the-top pushy.
“I can’t nag my guests. That’s a quick way to get a bad review. Do you have any idea how hard it is to recover from a bad review?”
Pluto had appeared next to me, the sight strangely comforting. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. The cat weaved through my legs, then rubbed his face against my pants. Apparently he hadn’t heard about my cooking and wanted to be fed.
She nodded. “I guess you have a point.”
“And if Nicolas Marcos is gone for good, there’s no point in wasting our energy worrying about him, right?”
Chapter Eight
“I have to get to work,” I said as I put the last of the dishes in the washer. “I never thought about leaving strangers alone in the house. It’s creepy.”
“Well, that’s the only thing creepy about this whole situation, right?” Annabelle said sarcastically.
I’d always thought I was a good judge of character. I was a little bummed over the way Nicolas had left without saying goodbye.
“You should call the police and report Nicolas for not paying,” Annabelle added as she grabbed her purse.
“No, I think I’ll just chalk it up as a lesson learned. I’ll always remember to collect the money first, or at the very least, get a deposit.”
After saying goodbye to Annabelle, I rushed toward Bewitching Bath and Potions. The historic section of town housed all the specialty shops and boutiques. The main road ran along the river, twisting and turning through Enchantment Pointe. A stone wall surrounded the outer edge of town with cobblestone sidewalks and wrought-iron accents sprinkled around.
I knew my mother would be waiting and I wasn’t looking forward to telling her about the catastrophe I’d experienced with my first two guests. I’d leave out the parts about the spell and the burnt pancake—and the fact that one of them had skipped out on the bill. No need to give her any more reasons to be disappointed in her one and only daughter.
I pulled up in front of the shop and turned off the ignition. The events of the morning were just now fully sinking in, not to mention that I was starting to feel faint from lack of sleep. Pulling my purse up over my shoulder, I trudged toward the entrance. The bell chimed on the door when I entered. No one was in sight, no customers and no mother.
Annette LaVeau made all the items right there in her shop. Her merchandise included soaps, lotions, scrubs, and bath salts. She had a special knack for mixing scents—magical oils were her specialty. She was a workaholic when it came to her business: sections of the store were specifically designated for specific items, and you’d better not get them out of place either. Fragrances, oils, powders and herbs on the right. Soaps, shower gels, lotions, shampoos and conditioners on the left.
“Mom, are you here?” I walked further into the shop.
She popped up from behind the register where she’d been arranging items under the counter. People could tell immediately that we were mother and daughter. We were the same small size—five-foot-one—but we packed a powerful punch. My mother had recently cut her hair in a fashionable bob with the occasional gray hair showing up in the otherwise dark strands. She wore the store’s signature polka-dotted apron over her black T-shirt and black and white Capri pants.
She sighed as soon as she saw me. Must she do that every time I walked into a room?
“Hello, dear.” A small swirl of smoke circled behind her.
“Working on another spell?” I asked as I joined her behind the counter.
She held up a light blue bottle. “I’m making a facial lotion for Mrs. Combs.” She stirre
d the pot a few more times, then dipped the bottle into the concoction. “This should help her with the warts.”
“I have noticed she’s sprouted quite a few more lately.” I draped the Bewitching Bath and Potions apron around my neck.
My mother wiped her brow and let out a deep breath. “Whew. I’ve been swamped all morning. I’m glad you finally decided to show up.”
I stared at my mother’s forehead.
“What?” She scowled. The color drained from her face. “Not again,” she said.
I thought by now she’d be an expert at penciling on those eyebrows and keeping them in place. One brow was still perfectly drawn on, but the other had been smeared all the way across her forehead. To her credit, she’d stopped reminding me of the way I’d destroyed her face. She just let out breathy sighs instead.
She shook her head. “Well, I don’t have time to put it back on right now. It’ll have to wait a minute. I need to finish these orders for customers.”
“Would you like for me to fix it?” I asked, transfixed by the sight. It was like a car accident; I couldn’t look away.
“You don’t know how to add the arch that I’ve perfected over the years.” She didn’t glance up from her bottles.
Ouch. That hurt.
“Why were you so late anyway?” she asked.
“I was working around the manor.” I moved a couple bottles across the counter out of her way.
She snorted, but didn’t ask for more of an explanation.
“Can you label those soaps and place them on the shelf?” She pointed.
“Sure.” I let out a deep breath, picked up the soap and wrapped it in the paper.
Without warning, that strange vibe took over again. I had to steady myself with a hand on the counter. Was I coming down with something? Why had I been feeling so strangely? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it had something to do with Nicolas Marcos. I hadn’t felt this way until he’d shown up. But he was gone now, so shouldn’t I be feeling better?
The bell over the door chimed and I looked up. My heart rate increased when I saw who was walking my way.
“Oh my,” my mother said.
This was not going to end well. I felt it.
