by Cate Lawley
“If not now, when? I was married, and when that marriage ended, I had Zelda to think of. Time goes by so quickly when you’re raising a child.” He gave her a curious look, but she refused to answer the implied question.
“And then you were ill.” Glenda blinked. It was one of the most difficult things to imagine, looking at the healthy, vibrant man in front of her. That he’d been so close to death before accepting the Reaper job.
He nodded. “Seven years as Reaper, getting Zelda settled…now is the time. Before I start a new career and use that as an excuse or a diversion. I need to do this now.”
“Fair enough. I didn’t know the specifics before we met, and I didn’t want to pry before you’d explained—so I have some homework to do before I can tell you anything else.”
Devlin’s eyebrows climbed. “You’ll take my case?”
Glenda pulled out her reading glasses from her purse, as well as a pen and paper. “Naturally. I wouldn’t think of refusing. But to be clear, I’ll assess your compatibility with Felicity and the likelihood of a successful match. And that’s all—then we’ll chat again. Your number?”
He gave her a local number and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Thank you.”
“Hm. I wouldn’t do that yet. If you’re not compatible…If she’s moved on and isn’t interested in a relationship, either with you or at all…well, then there’s not much to be done. And your memories together, she won’t have those. Like I said before, it’s no simple magic that’s wiped her memory.”
“I understand.” He slowly rose from his chair. “Until I hear from you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Glenda.”
“The feeling is entirely mutually.” She watched as he walked out the door and climbed into a sensible wagon. Who would have thought the Reaper would be driving a silver sedan wagon that said “suburban mother of three?” He wasn’t what she’d expected. But she should know better by now. People were surprising in their variety and their ability to defy expectations, and that apparently included the Grim Reaper.
Glenda had no patience with traffic or with transportation in general, and her meeting with Devlin had only exacerbated those feelings. The Reaper, she reminded herself. Emotional distance had to be maintained. Then again, what was in a name? Right. He was Devlin from now on. No more of this Reaper nonsense.
She looked out the donut shop window at her little car, so practical for city driving, and her resolve firmed. No. She refused to navigate unpredictable traffic and wait the indefinite amount of time it would take her to get home before she did an initial read on the situation. She would simply take a moment to powder her nose before she headed home…and sneak in a little magical math.
A few minutes later, Glenda exited the bathroom. An employee stopped to ask if everything was all right. She frowned at him and shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
She left the man staring after her in confusion as she briskly made her way to her car. She needed to get home. She had some serious equations to work through. Based on her calculations, Devlin’s true love had been…well, his true love. At least in every magical sense. And Felicity wasn’t happy—not with her romantic life. Not even a little bit. She reminded Glenda of a little bird with a half-healed wing. Stretching her wings tentatively but scared to fly. And when she did venture out, that sad little wing couldn’t quite support her. It was heartbreaking.
Glenda wasn’t certain what had happened to drive such a well-matched pair apart, and she didn’t know what or who had hurt Felicity. But she did know that their compatibility—then and now—was quite high, mathematically speaking. But that was the problem: what had driven such a fated pair apart? And would it come into play again? She wouldn’t rest until she had a better understanding. This was one improbable match she wouldn’t let fail. Even if it meant getting a cell phone and coaching the Reaper every step of the way. Strictly against her less-is-more interference policy, but in this case, she was making an exception.
As she put her little car into reverse, she couldn’t help think that she was bending rules and getting much too involved, and all for a man who’d spent the last eight years—much more if time manipulation was considered—severing the very souls of humanity from their earthly corpses.
She grinned and turned up the volume of her radio and started to sing along with the jaunty eighties tune playing. Sometimes being a witch could be rather exciting.
Chapter 2
Felicity looked around her small studio for signs of untidiness. After sweeping the space with a final critical look, she flicked off the light and locked up. A lightness, a feeling approaching but just short of joy, swept through her. It might be a shed—but it was her studio.
Business had picked up, so she’d recently tightened her schedule and increased her work hours. She wasn’t usually at her best before noon, but she’d discovered that walking out to her little backyard studio in the early morning hours and finding everything tidily in its place gave her a jolt of energizing motivation. Almost as if the brushes and watercolors waiting for her whispered encouragement when she first opened the shed door. Then she thought of her mother and snorted. No one whispered words of encouragement when it came to her art, least of all the inanimate objects in her studio.
The work was encouragement enough, though. It also didn’t hurt that her bank account looked more respectable than it had in the last five years. An acquaintance had introduced her to a fabulous local printer who created high quality, print-on-demand reproductions of her most popular works. That bit of good fortune combined with the increasing popularity of her online store meant her art was finally starting to pay the bills—even without representation in a gallery. Add teaching income from a few classes and a blog that had a small but loyal following, and she had a livable income doing things she loved to do. That was enough to make her smile when she woke up every morning.
She’d gotten wrapped up in a particularly exciting painting earlier, and had ended up eating a late lunch. Since she wasn’t absolutely starving, she spared a few minutes to walk down the drive and grab her mail before calling it a day.
As she flipped through the pile, a handwritten letter caught her attention. She tucked the bills and advertising mailers under her arm and opened the letter. And stopped midway up the drive. Her thirtieth high school reunion. It seemed impossible so much time had passed. She cocked her head, confused by the dates, so she added the years. Twenty-nine years, not thirty. Not that she didn’t have a number of friends from the year ahead of her. In fact, she’d dated a boy from that class. Derrick? Daniel? No, that wasn’t right.
She shook her head. It didn’t really matter who she’d dated years ago. She was the class of ’87, not the class of ’86, and her reunion was next year. She continued up the drive and stopped by her recycling bin to chuck in the ads. As she reached out to drop the reunion invitation in the bin something stopped her, and she tucked it back in with her bills.
Chapter 3
A week after Devlin met with Glenda, he received a real estate listing forwarded from what he guessed was her email address. There was no message, simply the listing—but he didn’t know anyone else who would use “witchesrkul” as the user name for their email address, so it was a safe bet.
Zelda and Mark had questioned him recently about his living situation. He’d assumed that meant his daughter wasn’t far from moving in with her boyfriend. And if he knew Mark, that meant that Mark wasn’t far from proposing.
Naturally, he’d made a production over how relieved he would be to finally get some peace and quiet at the house. To which Zelda replied, “I’m not an idiot, Dad, but thanks for the effort.” She always could read him too well. She knew exactly how much she’d be missed.
As soon as he’d seen the direction things were moving, he’d decided to downsize and rent out the larger house when she moved out.
And then he’d received Glenda’s email. Two bedrooms, two baths, and a study—at about half the square footage
of the house he and Zelda shared. Original hardwoods, a nice-sized yard, and it wasn’t priced at the top of the market for that neighborhood, because it needed updating. It was perfect. In fact, too perfect. Under normal circumstances—the Austin market being hot and the neighborhood desirable—the house would be long gone by the time he got the paperwork together and made an offer. But he suspected in this case there was some witchy interference at work, and the house would still be there.
He picked up the phone and called his real estate agent. After explaining that he wanted to make a very generous offer on a particular listing, he and his agent came up with an offer package for the house. If he offered high enough above the asking price, maybe his conscience wouldn’t hound him over whatever magical advantage he’d been given in obtaining the house. And he could afford it. The reaper gig paid well, and he’d invested the buyout cash he’d received when he sold his share in his law firm over eight years ago. Add to that the reaper severance package, and he could probably get away with not working for the rest of his life if he wasn’t extravagant. Years of hard work as an attorney, followed by eight years as one of the most feared men in the magical community had paid off. Financially, at least.
Devlin clicked back on the site with the pictures of the house. He had no idea what this house had to do with Felicity, but he knew from experience that Glenda sometimes worked in subtle ways.
Three weeks later, Devlin backed a rented moving truck into the driveway of his new house.
His daughter Zelda, standing in the driveway, motioned for him to continue. He stopped and popped his head out of the window. “Any further and we won’t have room for the ramp.”
Zelda strolled up to the truck at a leisurely pace and then leaned in and rested her forearms in the open window. “It’s hotter than heck, and you’ve recruited your only child and her very busy boyfriend as your own personal movers. We’re getting as close to the back door as possible.”
“I have it on the best authority—Mark himself—that he isn’t that busy at work.” Devlin took the keys out of the ignition. “I also know you both cancelled a camping trip—so don’t think about complaining about the heat. At least the house has air conditioning. Move it, kiddo.”
Zelda took a step back and opened the door for him, giving him a squinty-eyed look.
Devlin hopped out of the car and gave her a hug. “Thank you for giving up your camping trip.” She’d been short-tempered with him ever since he’d told her about the house. Zelda wasn’t a fan of change.
She hugged him tight and said, “Sure thing, Dad.”
Mark pulled in behind the truck. When he emerged from his car, he lifted a bag triumphantly. “Sorry I took so long. I stopped for breakfast tacos. What did I miss?”
“Oh, we wouldn’t dare unload without you. You haven’t missed a thing.” Zelda snatched the bag from his hand. “And you’re an absolute doll. I’m starving.”
“You guys go ahead and eat. I’ll head inside and make sure we’ve got electric and water.” But as he turned, he saw that one of his neighbors was heading his way. Was that a casserole dish?
But he didn’t linger on the item she carried, because he knew the woman carrying it. Older, curvier, and sadder—but he knew her. She’d changed so little and yet so much. A few silvery strands lightened her hair, so it was no longer a startlingly dark brown. Freckles still sprinkled the bridge of her nose and dusted her cheeks, but there were fine lines etched around the corners of her eyes. She’d always refused to wear sunglasses.
“Hi, I saw the house had sold and then the moving truck…I’m Felicity.”
Felicity shifted the tray in her hands so that it was balanced against her hip, and she stretched out her now free right hand.
He wanted to grasp her hand—to touch her and prove that she was real and she was truly standing in front of him—but he couldn’t move.
Zelda stepped forward and shook her hand. “Zelda. I’m so glad to meet you. I was worried Dad might become a hermit at the new house without me, but—” His sneaky child flashed a brilliant smile at Felicity. “I’m sure with such friendly neighbors he’ll feel right at home in no time at all.”
Felicity handed the tray to Zelda, then smiled in Devlin’s direction. Suddenly, he felt like he’d traveled back in time. He remembered that smile so vividly. It had been more open, less restrained by the disappointments of life, but the slight unevenness of her bottom teeth and the way her hazel eyes shined when she smiled, that hadn’t changed at all. She said, “I’m sure we can manage something interesting to tempt you out of the house. We usually have a block barbeque or two before the heats gets unbearable.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but again he couldn’t seem to speak.
Mark shot him a look full of curiosity.
Devlin knew having an empath for his future son-in-law would occasionally be inconvenient, but this was hardly a scenario he’d predicted.
Mark said, “Well, Devlin’s hardly a vegetarian, so I’m sure he’d love to go and meet all the neighbors. I’m Mark, by the way.” He shook hands with Felicity and offered her his characteristic broad, cheerful smile.
Devlin nodded in agreement since that was seemed to be the most he could manage. Finally, he mumbled, “Yes, sounds good. Devlin.” And he reached out a hand to clasp her fingers.
The contact was brief, but it reminded him of how small her hands were. She’d tease and say she had stubby fingers, and he’d swear his undying devotion to her beautiful hands.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Felicity pointed to a house across the street and over one. “That’s me, the one with the purple door.”
He lifted his hand and smiled, and then she was gone.
“I knew you weren’t exactly suave, Dad, but that was ridiculous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tongue-tied by a woman. Even someone so cute.”
He frowned at his daughter. “She’s not just cute; she’s gorgeous.”
Zelda gave him an odd look. “Okay. But, seriously, you’re going to have to up your game a little. At least, you know, speak. You can do it.” In a more serious tone, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay living here by yourself?”
“Absolutely. And I was just surprised. Trust me, it won’t happen again.” He already had a plan to make up for his terrible first impression. “Come on. Let’s get the big pieces in before it gets too hot.”
“I second that notion,” Mark said. “I wouldn’t want Zelda to melt—or to hide herself away in the AC and not help.”
Zelda just grinned, which did not bode well for her getting much done outdoors past ten or eleven o’clock when the heat would really start to kick in. She held out the cellophane-covered tray. It was filled with cookies on one side and veggies with a tiny dish of dip on the other. “Drop the keys on top. I’ll go check the electric and water.”
Devlin pulled the house key out of his pocket and dropped it on top of the tray. Once she’d gone, he turned to Mark. “About Felicity—”
“I won’t say a word.”
Devlin sighed. How was he supposed to tell his daughter that some other woman was the love of his life—not her mother? “Thank you.”
“But she would understand.” Mark smacked him on the back. “Let’s check out this project you just bought. I have some basic carpentry and plumbing skills, but any electrical is going to need a pro.”
“Yeah. It’s all good.” Devlin followed the kid into the house. He had a few ideas about the renovations, and it really did appeal to him in a way his previous place never had. But beyond his instant connection with the house, there was another reason his affection for the place was growing by the minute. And that reason lived across the street and over one house. Excitement bubbled up in him. He felt almost like a high school kid again. Because now he knew. Glenda thought he had a fighting chance with Felicity or he wouldn’t be here now.
Sure, the details weren’t clear. Was she single or in a bad relationship? Would she ever remember him? How
would he get his dating mojo on when he didn’t actually have any dating mojo? But those questions were just the minutiae.
Glenda thought he had a chance, and Glenda was as close to a seer as witches got. Devlin couldn’t help but whistle as he walked up his drive. A little rusty and off key, but certainly a jaunty little tune.
Chapter 4
Wow. Just wow. As soon as Felicity closed the door, she leaned against it and fanned herself.
Her new neighbor was hot. Absolutely delicious. Maybe even yummy enough for her to believe that all men weren’t unnecessary, time-sucking baggage. This one was scrumptious enough for her to reconsider her four-year hiatus on dating. She did like a tall, lean man. She pressed the backs of her hands to her warm cheeks. She felt like a teenager crushing hard over a boy.
“Ridiculous. At my age?” Women in their forties didn’t crush on guys…did they?
Her mind wandered back to the brief interaction. He had been interested. And while she was out of practice, she wasn’t oblivious. She was certain he’d been into her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made a guy mute.
“Devlin.” The name felt familiar on her lips. Odd, since she didn’t know anyone with that name.
The sun had made him squint, so she hadn’t been able to tell what color his eyes were. He was tan and fit, like someone who spent some time outdoors. And while his clothes had a lived-in feel, just shy of worn out, his shoes were almost new. New shoes in combination with well-worn clothes had her suspecting that Devlin was a man who dressed for comfort.
Then again, he hadn’t actually said much more than his name, so who knew? Maybe that was why he was single. Maybe he had zero social skills, or, worse, no personality. If that was the case, hot didn’t matter. A guy could never be good-looking enough to make up for a complete inability to interact with people.
