by Lee McKenzie
She knew what Gabriella thought about most people who lived here, but Nick was different. What would her mother think of him?
There was no question about what the people of Collingwood Station would think of her mother and the love spells. Aunt Margaret had always fostered Maggie’s ability to connect with people and to understand what was going on with them. People skills, she’d called them. But she thought Gabriella’s so-called psychic abilities were beyond flaky.
That’s because they are, and you should know better than to waste your time with this nonsense.
“Don’t even start with me, Aunt Margaret. I know what I’m doing. So does my mother.”
Sometimes you don’t have a lick of common sense between the two of you.
Humph. “We do so.”
CHAPTER NINE
THREE DAYS INTO the project, Nick was thinking it was probably the best job he’d taken in a long time. Maybe ever. Once Maggie overcame her initial uncertainty about the noise and disruption, she’d become completely enthusiastic about the changes and the progress they were making. Lunch, which she insisted on preparing for them, had become his favorite part of the day. It was just sandwiches and lemonade, served picnic-style in the backyard, but somehow she made it special. Even Brent was on his best behavior, and that was saying something.
And, of course, there were those incredible cookies. One of these days he really ought to ask about her secret ingredient, except he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He kind of liked the idea of her working some kind of magic on them.
He measured the opening for the bathroom window and double-checked the dimensions of the new window. It was one of the old stained-glass windows they’d salvaged from a previous renovation. It was exactly the color she wanted and only a tad too big. He reached for a plane.
Once he installed the window, he’d call it a day. The downside of spending all day here and having lunch with Maggie was having to go back to his apartment and eat a solo dinner that went from the freezer to the microwave to the table in under five minutes. He liked eating lunch with Maggie, and dinner would be even better.
Yeah, right. Dating a client was a bad idea.
He was planing the window frame and imagining how one of Maggie’s dinners might taste when there was a knock at the front door. Brent had gone to the warehouse to pick up more supplies and Maggie was out shopping, so he set down his tools and opened the door. Allison’s husband was the last person he expected to find on the other side.
“John. Hey, how’s it going?”
“Great,” John said, extending his hand.
The guy obviously didn’t know a lot of construction workers, and Nick didn’t want to seem rude so he dusted his hand on his jeans and shook John’s hand. “If you’re here to see Maggie, she’s—”
“No, I came over to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
“Well, Allison’s suddenly got this idea that we should build a tree house for the kids, but I don’t know anything about carpentry.”
“You’re looking for a contractor to build a tree house?”
John laughed. “No, I just need some advice. Allison seems to think it’ll be a great family project.”
“I see,” Nick said, but he wasn’t sure he did. What was it that Maggie had said to Jocelyn and Francine at the barbecue on Sunday?
If I had kids and this was my yard, I’d build a tree house in the arms of that big old oak.
How did she do this? She only had to mention something and the next thing he knew, people were going along with it. Not that a tree house was a bad idea. It was just out of character for John and Allison. Had Maggie suggested it, or were they under her spell the way everyone else in this town seemed to be?
“What I’m wondering,” John said, somewhat tentatively, “is if you can tell me what kind of tools and materials I might need.”
“Sure, no problem. What kind of tree house do you have in mind?”
John gave him a blank stare. “Ah—”
“You could start at the lumber yard,” Nick suggested. “They might have books with plans and supply lists.”
“Oh, good idea.” But he didn’t sound convinced.
“Tell you what, after you and Allison and the kids decide what you want, bring the plans over and I’ll take a look. I’ll be happy to lend you some tools and we’ve got plenty of scrap lumber around. You can help yourself to whatever you need.”
John looked a little more enthusiastic. “Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it.” And he sounded like he meant it.
“Happy to help.”
“I should be getting back.” John turned to leave.
“Good for you for taking this on,” Nick said. “I wish my father and I had done something like this.”
“Me, too,” John said.
They stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to say next.
Nick shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
John stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’d better get home. Allison wants me to keep the kids occupied while she makes dinner.”
“Yeah, and I should get back to work.”
John left, and Nick picked up the plane and went back to work on the window. He had no idea what had made him reveal those feelings about his father. Growing up, it had never occurred to him that other kids’ fathers were too busy to spend time with them. Looked as though he and John had more in common than he’d thought.
John’s domestic situation sounded good, though. Spend some time with the kids. Have a nice dinner. Share the evening with the woman you really enjoy being around.
Maybe he should ask Maggie if she’d like to go out for dinner.
Nah. Bad idea. As long as he was working for her, he needed to keep their relationship strictly professional. Going out for dinner would lead to more kissing, and that was not a place they needed to be right now.
“Hey, boss.” Brent barged through the front door with a bag of mortar on one shoulder. “You want to give me a hand unloading those tiles? Then I think it’s time we called it a day.”
Nick glanced at his watch. “You’re right. After we unload that stuff and tidy up, do you want to grab a burger at Paul’s Place? Maybe shoot some pool?”
“Sure. You buying?”
Nick jabbed him in the shoulder. “Hey, on your salary you should be buying me dinner.”
“I’ll buy if you ask Maggie to come with us.”
“She’s not here.”
“Oh, well,” Brent said. “I was thinking it could be my lucky day.”
“Yeah, well, dream on. Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Because?”
“I just don’t.”
Brent muttered something that sounded a lot like, “That’s got to be a first.”
Nick decided to ignore it. After they’d put everything away and swept up the wood shavings and drywall dust, he locked up and they headed out to the truck. As they pulled away from the curb, he spotted Maggie walking up the sidewalk toward them.
She looked great. She had on a pair of calf-length jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a tank top in her trademark purple, which was never a color he’d thought he liked until he’d seen it on her.
“Pull over,” Brent said as he rolled down the window.
Maggie had her arms full of packages, but she smiled and nodded a greeting.
Nick stopped the truck.
“Want to join us for dinner?” Brent asked. “We’re going down to Paul’s for a burger and a game of pool.”
Man, Nick thought. What part of “it’s not a good idea to invite Maggie for dinner” did Brent not understand?
“Oh, I can’t. Not tonight. It sounds like fun but I sort of have plans.” She angled her head, looked into the cab at Nick and smiled.
Nick told himself he shouldn’t feel disappointed by her answer—after all, it had been his idea to not invite her.
“Too bad,” Brent said. “Maybe next tim
e.”
“Definitely. It’s a date.” She shifted her packages into one arm and waved. “See you guys tomorrow.”
Nick gave her a brief nod as he pulled away. Not that it was any of his business, but he’d sure like to know what her “sort of” plans might be.
* * *
BY THE END of the week, Maggie was looking forward to the weekend and having two whole days of peace and quiet. The renovations were very distracting. She hadn’t experimented with any new beauty products and her plans to work in the garden had fallen by the wayside. But she had kept herself busy rereading Gabriella’s instructions and gathering the things she needed for the love spells.
The spell for Allison and John was the most important so she’d prepare that one first. She’d needed a few of John’s hairs from his hairbrush, so midweek she’d paid Allison another visit. Luckily the children had been home and Meredith had wanted to take her upstairs to see her new dollhouse. While Meredith was occupied, she’d snuck into the master bedroom. After a moment of panic, she’d found John’s hairbrush next to his sink in the en suite. At least she assumed it was his sink, since the other one was surrounded by an enormous number of expensive creams and lotions. She really must convince Allison to use more natural skin-care products.
She’d plucked a bunch of hairs from John’s brush and quickly examined them before folding them into a small piece of paper and tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans.
Tonight she’d have to figure out some way to get back in to slip the spell under their bed. But first she had to make it.
She carefully measured spices and sugar into the beautiful little heart-shaped jar she’d decided to use. Her mother’s instructions hadn’t specified what kind of container but this one seemed perfect. She put the stopper in the opening and shook it to mix the spices. The blend of sugar and spice made her think of the giant cinnamon buns that Mr. Donaldson sold at his deli every morning.
She uncorked a bottle of rose water and took a sniff. Mmm. One of her favorite scents. She slowly poured the liquid into the jar, closed the stopper and gently shook it again. Now for the hair. She unfolded the paper and studied the contents. She tried to slide the hair off the paper and into the jar, but the opening was too small. She was reluctant to actually touch the hair but she had no choice, so she quickly dumped them into her palm.
Ew, ew, ew.
But also kind of interesting. Some of them were definitely gray. Poor John. His hairline was receding and he was going prematurely gray. If Nick’s yearbook pictures were anything to go by, his hair still looked as good now as it had ten years ago.
She checked the instructions and found that the amount of hair wasn’t specified so she stuffed all of it into the jar. She pushed in the stopper and gave the jar one final shake. Some of the spices had formed little clumps in the rose water and the hair looked completely gross. She set the jar aside and read the rest of the instructions.
Apply a sweet-smelling oil to the outside of the jar.
She decided to use lavender.
Tie a yellow ribbon around the jar.
Done.
Put the jar under the couple’s bed.
That was the tricky part.
After retrieving a light jacket that had pockets big enough to hold the jar, she slipped the jar into a little plastic bag, tucked it into her pocket, then let herself out the front door and headed for Allison’s. She didn’t exactly know how she’d get upstairs and into the bedroom but she’d play it by ear.
What makes you think this is going to work?
Aunt Margaret! Always the skeptic. “My mother wouldn’t recommend a spell that doesn’t work. But even if it doesn’t, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”
You get caught crawling around under people’s beds?
She could picture her aunt’s eye roll. “I’m not going to get caught and when this spell works, you’ll have to eat those words.”
We’ll see about that.
“Yes, we will, won’t we?” She rang Allison’s doorbell, hoping Aunt Margaret didn’t plan to follow her inside.
John answered the door and he seemed surprised to see her. “Maggie. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, John. I came over to see Allison. Is she here?”
“Sorry. She dropped the kids off at her mother’s place and went to help Leslie with wedding plans.”
“I see.”
“Do you need something?”
“No, but I was wondering...” Come on, Maggie. Use your head. If you want to help Allison, you have to think of a way in. “Um, the last time I was here, Meredith took me upstairs to see her dollhouse and while I was up there I noticed the way you’ve fixed up your main bathroom and you probably know I’m renovating my place so I wondered—”
“You want to look at our bathroom?” He sounded confused.
“Yes! If that’s okay with you. If it isn’t, I can come back when Allison’s home but I was sort of hoping—”
“Be my guest. You’ll have to excuse me, though. I have to finish up some paperwork.”
“Thanks.” She dashed upstairs before he could change his mind. At the top of the staircase, she glanced back to be sure John wasn’t watching.
No sign of him. Maggie, you are a genius.
She slipped into the bedroom, fished the jar out of her pocket and crouched next to the bed. I really hope there’s nothing under here I’m not supposed to see, she thought.
She lifted the edge of the bed skirt and took a peek. Nothing but a few dust bunnies. Not that Allison would want anyone to know about those, but at least they were better than some things people kept under their beds. She slid the jar as far under as she could and straightened the bed skirt, hoping the scent of lavender would have dissipated by the time they went to bed.
“Everything okay up there?”
Yikes! His voice was far enough away that she’d guess he was still downstairs. She crawled to the door on her hands and knees and peeked into the hallway. No sign of him.
“Maggie?”
“Yes, hi! Everything’s fine.” From where she knelt by the door, he wouldn’t be able to see her from the bottom of the stairs. But if she stood now, he’d wonder what she was doing in their bedroom. Her only option was to crawl down the hallway to the main bathroom, where she was supposed to have been all along. She scooted along, listening for footsteps on the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder, crawled into the bathroom and got to her feet. Then, trying to control her breathing, she casually leaned out the door. “I’m just making a few notes. I’ll be right down.”
The main bathroom was decorated in white and candy-striper pink. Aside from being too girlie, it was one of the most uninspired rooms she’d ever seen. Exactly what she didn’t want in her house. She splashed some cold water on her face and tried to steady her nerves. Then she went downstairs. No sign of her host. “Thanks, John,” she called from the front door.
He came out of the den. “What did you think?”
“Nice. Very nice.”
He looked skeptical. “Really?”
Maggie laughed. “You don’t like pink?”
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
“Mine, either.” Ugh. Dumb thing to say. How was she going to get out of that? “You have a great soaker tub. Nick is putting one in for me and I’ve never really looked that closely at one and I wasn’t sure how big it was so I thought if I had another look at yours then I’d have a better idea of what to expect when mine’s installed.”
John quirked his eyebrows at her but he didn’t say anything.
“Sorry. I have a tendency to talk too much when I’m—” Nervous. But she couldn’t say that. “Excited. About soaker tubs. And...you know, decorating.”
John was staring at her as though he thought she needed medication.
“I should let you get back to work.”
“I’ll tell Allison you dropped by.”
“Thanks.” She darted out the door and headed across the
lawn to her place. She could hardly wait to tell Aunt Margaret that the plan had worked and she hadn’t been caught, and now—
She stopped. Nick’s truck was parked in front of her house.
Why would he be here on Friday night? When he and Brent had left that afternoon, she could have sworn he’d said, “See you on Monday.”
She found him in the new bathroom, tape measure in hand. He was still wearing his work clothes and his dark hair fell over his forehead, begging to be straightened.
Her fingers twitched.
Not tonight, she reminded herself. You still have work to do.
He glanced up. “Hi. Where’ve you been?”
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” His doubtful look made her squirm. “When I was a kid my father would always say, ‘The lost-in-oblivion kind of nowhere or the I’ve-got-something-to-hide kind of nowhere?’”
“I’m not hiding anything. I went for a walk. What would I have to hide?”
“Hey. Just making conversation.”
“Oh. Well, so was I.” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and encountered the plastic bag, damp with lavender oil, that had held Allison and John’s love spell.
Nick leaned toward her, close enough for her to touch his hair, if she dared. Did she?
“You smell great,” he said.
She knew that look. It was exactly the same way he’d looked at her on Sunday night after he walked her home from Allison’s, right before he’d asked if he could kiss her. This time she didn’t think he’d ask. And she didn’t want him to. She wanted to slide into his arms, pick up right where they’d left off and take each other places they’d nearly gone a few times this week. Almost certainly would have if Brent hadn’t kept interrupting them.
But not tonight, she reminded herself again. Much as she’d love to take advantage of Brent’s absence, she couldn’t. She had to finish the other spell.
She stepped back.
There was no mistaking Nick’s disappointment.
She stripped off the jacket and rolled it into a ball. “I was experimenting with an essential oil for a new shower gel. I must have spilled some on my jacket before I went out. For a walk. I’d better go put it in the laundry.”
