by Lee McKenzie
She wished she could feel sorry for herself, but all of this was her fault. She should never, ever have said anything to Allison about Nick.
What had she been thinking?
Look before you leap. Aunt Margaret had issued that warning every time she’d done something crazy, but she never seemed to learn. She covered her face with her hands and felt the pearls brush against her wrists. Suddenly she was desperate to get home. Aunt Margaret would know what she should do.
She jumped up and rushed into the corridor, but people were already streaming out of the church and into the foyer. No way could she face anyone, especially not Nick and his mother. He’d said there was a side door near the minister’s office. She’d slip out that way and be on her way before anyone decided to come look for her. Not that anyone was likely to.
The door led to the parking lot. It was still pouring rain, which reminded her that she’d left her purse and umbrella under her seat in the church. Too bad, she thought. She definitely wasn’t going back to collect them.
She dashed across the parking lot, relieved to see that none of the wedding guests had made their way outside yet. She ran around to the back of the church, hoping no one noticed her, and crossed the street. Since she was already soaking wet, she might as well walk home.
That’s when she spotted the little red sports car parked alongside the curb. Was that Candice behind the wheel?
Maggie slowed as she passed it. Yes, it was Candice, all right, leaning toward the man in the passenger seat. And not just any man. It was the groom.
What was he doing out here?
Kind of a stupid question, Maggie thought, since Candice was kissing him.
How on earth had they managed to get out of the church so quickly? And what were they doing together?
At that instant, everything crystalized in Maggie’s mind. The love spell she’d cast for Candice had worked, with devastating consequences.
Had Leslie figured out what was going on? Considering their lack of discretion—even Mr. Donaldson had seen them together!—that was entirely possible. If so, no wonder she bolted.
Maggie arrived home, soaked to the skin. And as if the day wasn’t already the biggest disaster, her keys were in the stupid purse she’d left at the stupid church. She dashed around the house and retrieved the spare from under a plant pot on the back porch.
Nick probably wouldn’t approve of the stashed key, since he thought she should keep her front door locked and not let anyone in until she knew who was there.
Correction.
An hour ago, he wouldn’t have approved. Now he couldn’t care less.
She let herself in the front door and went upstairs. She wanted to sit and have a good cry, but she needed to figure out what had gone wrong with the love spell.
Why did every disaster seem to be so much worse than the last one? She could learn from her mistakes—in fact, she never made the same one twice. But who could have predicted that Candice would hook up with Leslie’s fiancé? Maggie wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
She peeled off the wet dress and hung it over the bathtub to drip.
What was it that Mr. Donaldson had said? Not a lot goes on in this town that I don’t know about. I don’t go in for gossip, but I’ve got eyes.
In her bedroom, she put on dry underwear and pulled on a pair of jeans and her purple tie-dyed T-shirt.
She went across the hall and pulled the yearbook off the shelf. What a disaster of a day this had been.
Well, I’ve never been one to say I told you so, but this kind of meddling always leads to no good.
Aunt Margaret had always been very quick with the I-told-you-so’s.
“You know what? I’m having a really, really bad day and I’d rather not talk about it.”
Humph. A bad day is having a your car break down in rush-hour traffic. Ruining a wedding and having your boyfriend dump you sounds more like a train wreck if you ask me.
“I didn’t ruin the wedding and Nick is not my boyfriend.” And now there was no chance he ever would be.
He’ll be back, mark my words.
“I don’t think so, Aunt Margaret. Not this time.”
Don’t be too quick to give up on him. Besides, I’m getting tired of hanging around. I’ve been hoping he’d stick around and look after you.
“I don’t need to be looked after.”
Because you do such a good job of keeping yourself out of trouble?
“Please, Aunt Margaret. Not now.”
She didn’t want to dwell on all the trouble she’d caused, or listen to one of her aunt’s lectures. But she did want to go back over the stupid spell she’d done for Candice and try to figure out what went wrong. Then she’d have to call her mother—and listen to a few more I-told-you-so’s—and find a way to undo this mess. Not that Leslie was likely to want her fiancé back, or that Nick would ever speak to her again, but at least she’d know for next time.
Next time? You can’t be serious.
Aunt Margaret was right. “Fine. I’ve learned my lesson and there won’t be a next time.” Unfortunately there would never be another Nick, either.
* * *
NICK SLAMMED THE DOOR of his apartment, threw his keys onto the counter, tossed Maggie’s purse next to it and tried to think of when he’d ever had a worse day.
Nope. This topped the list.
He yanked open the fridge and grabbed a soda. The cap jangled across the counter after his keys. He took a long swig and set the bottle on the counter. Smashing it against the Formica would have been a lot more satisfying, but he didn’t dare let himself lose control. If he lost it, he might...
What? Track down Gerald and use as much force as necessary to make the guy tell him what he’d done to Leslie. Although now that he’d had a chance to cool off a little, he had to admit that this was as much his fault as anyone’s. He’d had a bad feeling when he’d seen Gerald and Candice together at the barbecue. He should have said something to Leslie. Instead, he’d turned a blind eye and it had been Maggie who’d set her straight.
Maggie.
Thinking about her made him angry all over again. Turning him into one of her projects was one the most harebrained, infuriating things anyone had ever done to him. What had she been thinking? He’d thought he was falling in love with her, in spite of all her crazy ideas about ghosts and horoscopes and yogurt facials. Maybe even because of them. Why did she have to meddle in his life? She knew how much he hated busybodies and yet she’d...
Aw, man.
He couldn’t think of what she’d done, specifically, but now that he thought about it, she’d done something. She must have, because he felt different. Happier. More settled. Just a week ago he’d had an almost-civil conversation with his mother. And since the Fourth of July barbecue, he and Leslie had been closer than they’d ever been. Before Maggie, there was no way those things would have happened. He couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but she had something to do with all the changes in his life. That’s not what he was mad about, though. What bugged him was the way she...
What?
He grabbed the soda and took another long drink while he tried to think of something that bugged him.
Making him into a project. She’d even admitted it. In truth, he didn’t completely understand what that meant. She’d never said or done anything that felt like she was interfering, but that didn’t make it all right.
Whatever “it” was.
He should call Brent, that’s what he should do. Then as soon as he got himself out of this monkey suit, they could go out and shoot some pool. Brent would make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.
He yanked off his tie as he made his way to the phone. The flashing light indicated there were messages. Maybe Maggie had come to her senses and called to apologize.
He dialed into voice mail and switched to speakerphone while he opened the top button of his shirt.
“Nick? It’s Leslie. I wanted to let you
know I’m all right and to say I’m sorry for what happened this morning.”
That was followed by a long pause and he thought he could hear her sniffling in the background. And was that a dog barking? Then she was talking again.
“I couldn’t go through with it, not after I saw...well, I just couldn’t. I need to ask a favor, though. Well, one more, since I imagine you’ve already had to deal with all those people. And Mother. Anyway, could you please tell—”
Beep.
Next message.
“Nick, sorry, it’s me again. I was cut off. I wanted to ask you to talk to Maggie for me and thank her for everything. I’m not sure what happened but since she’s been around, you and I... things have been better, you know what I mean? More like family should be. And this morning at the church, she told me to follow my heart. No one’s ever told me that before, but she was right. She’s an amazing woman, Nick. You’re very lucky, but I guess you already know that. Anyway, I’m going to stay out of sight for a while but I don’t want you to worry. And can you let Mother know that I’m okay? I can’t talk to her right now. Not that it’ll make a difference, anyway. I’ll call in a few days. Please give Maggie a hug for me.”
Beep.
Next message.
Now what?
“Nick. Brent here. Something’s come up. Sorry to leave you in the lurch, buddy, but I’ll give you a call in a couple of days. See ya.”
Beep.
Nick disconnected and stared at the phone. How was that for a weird coincidence? Leslie and Brent doing a disappearing act at the same time.
“What difference does it make?” he said out loud. It’s not as though he needed any more to think about.
He supposed he should let his mother know he’d heard from Leslie, but it’d take more than a few decades to put him in the mood for that conversation. Leslie’s welfare would have a low priority until Lydia Durrance had made up a story that would help her save face.
What to do about Maggie was another matter.
He couldn’t pin the wedding fiasco on her. On the other hand, she’d turned him into one of her makeover projects. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d told Allison. Which meant the whole town knew about it. After all these years, he still hated being gossiped about.
If she had just left well enough alone, they’d be together right now. She in that fabulous dress and the pearls. No denying it, no matter how aggravating she was, he still wanted to be with her.
I love you just the way you are.
He loved her, too. He’d never met anyone like her and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. If he had any kind of backbone, he’d tell her. Too bad he’d been in such a big hurry last week to finish the reno on her house because it meant he no longer had an excuse to see her.
Except that he had her purse. His curiosity nearly got the best of him, but he decided against looking inside. As long as he didn’t know its contents, he could assume there might be something in it that she needed right away.
Which meant he’d better get it over there, asap.
* * *
NICK STEPPED OUT of his truck and looked up at Maggie’s house. The mauve siding and purple trim wouldn’t have been his first choice and he never would have thought to paint the front door red, but it all worked and it suited her to a T. Maggie knew what she wanted and she wasn’t afraid to go for it.
The gate swung shut behind him with perfect precision. The new steps had been painted dark purple to match the trim and at both ends of each tread Maggie had set big terra-cotta pots filled with red and yellow and purple flowers.
He lifted the heavy brass door knocker and held it for a moment before he let it drop. Had it really only been a month since he’d come here, thinking his old high-school teacher wanted to hire him? He could hardly remember life before Maggie.
He let the grinning gargoyle fall against the brass plate and waited.
Maybe she wasn’t home. Or maybe she didn’t want to see him.
He still had a key, but this would not be a good time to use it. If she’d even bothered to lock the door. He resisted the temptation to try the knob and knocked again.
“Come in!”
Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. She was way too trusting, and that was never going to change.
He let himself in. No scent of fruity concoctions this time, only fresh paint and oiled woodwork.
He knew she’d be in the kitchen. He found her leaning over the table, poring over several of her notebooks. Her damp hair hung around her shoulders and a pang of guilt shot through him when he realized she must have walked home in the rain. She was barefoot and wearing an old pair of jeans and the purple shirt she’d had on that first day. And her aunt’s necklace.
“I thought you might need your purse,” he said.
She swung around, obviously surprised to see him.
“And I was wrong about the pearls,” he said. “They look great with tie-dye.”
She didn’t say anything, so he continued. “I also came here to apologize. I’m still not sure I understand what Allison meant, but—”
Maggie’s vigorous head shaking interrupted him. “Never mind that. I have to confess, I’ve done something terrible. Really, really terrible. Leslie calling off the wedding...it’s all my fault.”
Now what? he wondered. He moved slowly across the kitchen toward her. “She called a while ago and left a message. She didn’t say where she was, but she sounded okay.”
Maggie brightened a little. “I’m glad.”
“She asked me to thank you. She said your advice was exactly what she needed to hear.” He paused and mustered his courage. “She also said I was lucky to have you in my life. I’ve known that for a while now, but today I let myself forget.”
Maggie wouldn’t let him continue. “I don’t deserve an apology. I was trying to help Allison...and I did...but I ended up ruining Leslie’s wedding in the process.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how helping Allison could ruin his sister’s wedding, but he knew he was about to find out anyway. “Leslie’s message was pretty clear. She said you gave her the right advice and that she wanted me to pass along her thanks.”
“She only said that because she doesn’t know what I’ve done.”
Nick sighed. He wanted to put his arms around her and kiss her until she forgot about everyone else’s problems, but in the past few weeks he’d learned that when she got like this, the best thing to do was to hear her out. Then kiss her. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you’ve done, and we’ll figure out a way to fix it?”
“Remember the barbecue at Allison’s?”
“Sure.”
“And it seemed as though Candice had a thing for Allison’s husband?”
“Yes,” he repeated cautiously while his gut tied itself in a knot. Candice had also seemed to have a “thing” for Gerald that night, and he’d dismissed it as being none of his business.
“The next day you started to work here and all the noise was totally distracting, so I went over to Allison’s.”
“Right. I remember.” At the time he’d been relieved because it had meant Allison wouldn’t show up at Maggie’s.
“I could tell she’d been crying but she wouldn’t admit it. You know how she is, always so—”
“Maggie?” If she got sidetracked, who knew when she’d get to the point.
“Yes?”
“Can you stick to the story?”
“Of course. Sorry. When I asked if I could help, she said something very strange. She asked if I knew any love spells.”
Please let there be a point to this. “I’m surprised Allison believes in stuff like that.”
“She doesn’t. At least, I don’t think she was serious, but I got to thinking—”
“That you’d do a love spell anyway?” Even as he said it, he could hardly believe he was having this conversation. “She already has a husband so wouldn’t that be, oh, I don’t know. Redundant?”
“Not if it
made her husband fall in love with her all over again,” Maggie said, looking surprised that he had to ask. “You know, so he wouldn’t be interested in Candice.”
Of course. That made perfect sense. Not. “What does this have to do with Leslie?”
“We-eell, I called my mother and I explained the situation to her. She knows a lot about these things, so—”
Now, that would have been an interesting conversation. Nick forced back a laugh by clearing his throat. “Your mother makes love potions?”
“Love spells, actually. And she’s very good at it. We decided that John was probably still in love with Allison, so fixing their relationship would be easy. And it was. All I had to do was to sneak it into their house and hide it under their bed.”
She could not be serious. “You broke into their house?”
“No! John let me in because I told him I wanted to see how Allison had decorated their upstairs bathroom and—”
Nick put up a hand. Not that anything about Maggie really surprised him anymore, but that kind of high jinks was way more information than he needed to know.
“Neither of them suspected a thing. And the spell worked.”
He detected an unspoken “so there” at the end of that declaration. “How do you know it worked?”
“Because the next morning they started building the tree house together and they were obviously really happy.”
At least now he knew why Maggie had given him the brush-off the night before. “You might not want to hear this, but John talked to me earlier that week about building the tree house. It was already in the works.”
“But they were certainly happy that day.”
Nick sighed. Yes, they were, and if Maggie wanted to take the credit for that, what was the harm in letting her?
She shrugged off her disappointment. “Gabriella, my mother, thought it would be best to create a really potent spell for Candice so she would find a man of her own, fall in love and leave Allison’s husband alone. She knew a spell that didn’t require the actual presence of the person, just a photograph.”
She pointed to the Collingwood Station yearbook on the table.
He would have laughed out loud, except that Maggie was completely serious. “You used Candice’s high-school picture?”
