Shirley meowed and rubbed herself between my legs. The giant orange tabby had waltzed into my apartment as if she were a queen, inspected the entire place, and then pounced on top of the TV. More often than not, she was there, soaking in the warmth.“Hi, honey. I’m making dinner for Shirley.”
It took a minute for that to sink in. “You’re cooking the cat dinner?”
“Well, of course. You don’t like to eat cold food every night, do you?”
Um. Okay. But I wasn’t a cat. “What is it you’re heating up?” I probably didn’t want to know. Not really. But a strange compulsion overtook my senses, and I asked anyway. Dumb, huh?
“She really likes Spam mixed in with some tuna and a little of her moist food. Don’t you, baby?” Grandma sing-songed to the tabby.
“Wait a minute. You actually put canned cat food in my Calphalon pan? Grandma, no.”
“What? Your pan is too good for my Shirley? I hardly think so. Don’t be silly, Elizabeth. It will wash.”
I really wanted to point out to her that I wasn’t the silly one. Most people would be as grossed out as I was at the thought of heating up cat food on the freaking stove. But. She. Is. My. Grandmother. I must show respect.
“’Kay, just don’t use any other pan. That can be Shirley’s pan. Lucky cat.”
Mental note to self: replace cat pan with human pan as soon as possible. Oh, and don’t use cat pan for soup or any other human food.
Well, unless I had a reason to cook for Marc again.
“I’m going to take a bath and get ready for bed. I’m meeting Maddie tomorrow for lunch, so I won’t be here. Will you be okay?” Maddie had spent the previous night at Spencer’s so was unavailable for our planned talk. I figured a Saturday afternoon was better anyway. More time to explain I wasn’t crazy.
“Joe’s coming by to take me to the hospital to see Vinny. I’ll be fine.” Grandma Verda spooned the absolutely disgusting mash of weird food into a bowl and set it down for Shirley. And, I have to admit, the feline pounced on it as if it were a feast for a king. Or, in this case, a queen.
You know how certain cooking smells just linger and never really dissipate—like, cabbage? Well, that smell would likely never leave this apartment. Probably, I’d have to find a new place when, and if, Grandma moved out.
An hour later, I was tucked into bed. Grandma had insisted that the bed Scot brought over was sufficient, that she didn’t need my larger one. This, as silly as it sounds, made me happy. I loved my bed. It was the only valuable piece of furniture I’d purchased when I moved in.
“Good night, Grandma. I’m glad you’re here,” I said into the dark.
“’Night, baby. Thank you for having me.”
My eyes closed. I stuck my nose into my pillow. I’d sprayed it liberally with my peach-scented body spray to douse out the cat-food stink. I had a feeling I’d be sleeping like this for the remainder of Grandma’s stay.
And then, out of nowhere, a warm breeze touched my cheek, and the heady fragrance of flowers overtook the peach. I squeezed the blanket tight around me, curling my fingers into a fist. Excitement and apprehension mingled as I waited.
“Elizabeth, can you see me this time?”
My eyes popped open. Yep, she was back. No way could I ignore her, either. The entire room swirled with a kaleidoscope of light as Miranda’s voice hit my ears. It was if a million rainbows were in my bedroom, shooting off in a zillion different directions.
Great. Now Grandma would know about Miranda. I hoped like hell it didn’t scare her to the point of a stroke. Or a heart attack. “No,” I whispered, squinting through the colors.
“What? Lizzie, did you say something?” asked Grandma Verda.
“No, Grandma.” Keep your eyes closed, I prayed. Just keep them shut.
“I need you to see me. It has to be you. No one else has been as strong as you are. You’re the only one I’ve really been able to connect with.”
“I can’t see you,” I whispered. And what did she mean “connect with?”
“What the hell is this? Lizzie, what’s going on? Who else is here? Are you on the phone? What’s with all the damn color? Is this some disco thing?” My grandma’s voice flooded the room. She wanted answers, and she didn’t sound scared at all.
“Can you hear her, Grandma?”
“Verda, can you see me?” Miranda asked, ripples of excitement floating off each word.
Wait. Could ghosts get excited? Apparently, they could. “Who is that? Who’s talking to me?” Now Grandma sounded nervous.
I sighed. There really was no way around it. I really, really hoped she was strong enough to handle this. “It’s Miranda. She’s come to pay a visit,” I said carefully, ready to rush to her bed if need be.
Miranda laughed. “What a delightful girl you are.” Every time Miranda spoke, the lights in the room pulsed and increased in brightness.
“Miranda? Well, it’s about time,” my grandmother said. “I’ve waited for this for far too long.”
Huh?
“Magic?” Maddie laughed. “Sure. Okay, honey. What ever you say.”
“I’m serious. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.”She arched a waxed eyebrow in disbelief. “And you say this . . . Miranda is trying to appear before you and your grandmother?”
“Well, it was just me. But with Grandma moving in, she caught the show last night.”
“And what did Miranda say last night?”
I ignored the disbelief in Maddie’s voice. “Not much. She left almost right away again. It’s as if she can’t stick around for very long. And for some reason, I think it’s important we see her. She just kept asking if we were able to.”
“And could you?”
I shook my head. “No. The room fills with color, and sometimes I think I see a shape in the middle of it, but it’s more like the suggestion of a shape than it is an actual shape.”
“Oh. I see. A suggestion of a shape.” Maddie grabbed her purse from the dining room table. Opening her wallet, she sifted through business cards.
“What are you doing?”
“I have a card for a psychiatrist I was going to see. I think you need it more than I do. Aha, here it is!”
“I don’t need to see a shrink. I’m fine. Well, okay, not fine. But not crazy, either. What I’m telling you is the truth, so unless your psychiatrist is also a medium, it’s not going to do me much good.”
She returned to the couch and put her hands on my shoulders. “Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you’re not making any of this up.”
“I am not making any of this up.”
Letting go, she sighed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Silence loomed between us as she let the information absorb in.
“So—you cast a spell on me?”
I nodded.
“Assuming I believe you, that’s why I was so miserable?”
“I think so. It was the first spell I cast on purpose, and I thought I was giving you something good. I didn’t do it right, so yeah, pretty sure it was my fault you were miserable.”
“That spell almost ruined things for me and Spencer.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you positive the second spell isn’t going to screw me up in some way?”
I fiddled with a loose string on the hem of my shirt. “Well . . .”
“Well, what?” She frowned. “You’re not sure?”
There really was no two ways about it. I’d chosen to confide in her. Mistake? Maybe, but nothing I could do about that now. I might as well say it all. “No. I’m not positive. But you’re feeling better, right?”
She crossed her arms. “Now? Yes. But I felt good with the last spell, before everything went crazy.”
“I fixed it as soon as I could.”
Another raised brow. “Did you? I was pretty unhappy for a while.”
“Well. You see . . . Um.”
“Spit it out, Elizabeth.”
Oh,
she was ticked. Maddie almost always called me by nicknames. “Nate ate the first fix before I could stop him,” I blurted.
“Can you prove it to me?”
“What? That Nate ate the cake? Just ask him.”
She sighed. “No, that you... put magic, or what ever, in your baking.”
“Yes!” Why hadn’t I thought of that? “Do you have a cake or a brownie mix? Muffins? Anything?”
Instead of answering, she beckoned me with her hand and marched to her kitchen, shoulders set. I didn’t know if proving it was such a good idea, after all. I mean, yeah, I wanted her to believe me, but I also didn’t feel like getting clubbed.
I heard the slamming of cupboard doors before I even reached the kitchen. A box of muffin mix, a mixing bowl, and the muffin tin was already sitting on the counter. She moved in a blur, so intent to get me all the ingredients I needed to make her believe.
Or to prove I was a fake.
She put her hands on her hips. “There you go, Elizabeth. Will this do? Is this enough for you to cast a spell?”
Whoa. Definitely not a good idea. “Look. If you don’t believe me, you don’t believe me. Even if I do this, you’ll find a way to ignore what you see.”
“I swear I won’t. Unless you’re afraid?”
I’m not ashamed to admit her taunt worked. Nodding, I grabbed the muffin box, read the back quickly, and ripped open the top. “We need to decide on a spell. What am I wishing for?”
“How about your heart’s desire? Getting Marc back?”
“I don’t want Marc back. Besides, I already spelled him. One worked. I’m waiting on the results from the second one.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s do this. And then when you see I’m not a liar or crazy, I’ll explain then.”
“Fair enough. Okay, um, wish for world peace.”
“My grandmother says it doesn’t work that way.”
“How exactly does it work then, Elizabeth?”
Holy cow, she was pushing all of my buttons. Clamping my mouth shut, I tried to think. “Never mind. I know what I’ll wish for.”
I dumped the contents of the box into the mixing bowl, cracked two eggs, and measured in the oil. Before I began, I focused on Maddie once more. “Are you sure about this? Sometimes it can get a little overwhelming.”
Tapping her foot, she replied, “I’m one hundred percent positive. Just do it.”
I ignored the electric mixer and picked up the wooden spoon. This way, she wouldn’t be able to blame anything on electricity. Besides, I preferred my muffins dense and rich. There was no reason for shoddy muffins, even if this was only a test.
Scraping the sides of the bowl to start, I fashioned the exact words to say. Because I wanted this to be a powerful show for Maddie, I was casting the only spell I could think of that meant anything to me at the moment. The one I still couldn’t seem to get right.
I closed my eyes and started stirring the contents together. I focused on what I wanted, poured my heart and soul into it, and whispered, “This wish is for me. I wish to be able to see my life with clarity, to know what I truly want, and to find the courage to go after it. No matter what it is, my wish is to never hide from myself again.”
The familiar energy began at my toes and climbed up my body like a vine, stronger and stronger. It reached my hands and flew out of me into the spoon. Instantly, the weighted zap of electricity sung through the air, bright colors flared from the spoon into the bowl. I kept stirring, repeating the wish over and over. Wind blew, and I heard a crash behind me, but I didn’t stop. My body pulsated with power, with magic, and I mentally grabbed hold of it and pummeled it out of me, straight into the batter.
I opened my eyes and saw the entire bowl was alight with myriad colors, shining, darting, glowing, jumping around as if someone had set off a miniature firework show. Laughing, I tipped my head back and repeated my wish one last time, with force, with all the emotion I could wring into it. I shuddered, let go of the spoon, and dropped to my knees. Slowly, very slowly, the energy faded, and Maddie’s kitchen returned to normal.
With a deep inhalation, I centered myself, ascertained I could stand without falling, and then pulled myself to my feet. Turning, I looked at Maddie. “That proof enough for you?”
“Damn, Lizzie. What the hell are you? A witch?”
I felt her then—Miranda. I knew she was there, with me, inside me, around me. My heritage. My gift. Who I truly was. “No, Maddie. Not a witch. I’m a gypsy.”
I fed Jon a bite of the new cupcakes I’d baked for him. Instead of trying to fix anything, I’d cast a spell to remove the effects of all the other spells. Maybe, just maybe, that would work.
He grinned at me and swallowed the bite I’d shoved into his mouth. Wiping crumbs off his lips, he said, “Enough. We need to focus. They’ll be here soon.”Happy he’d eaten some of the cupcake, I tossed the rest in the trash. If it worked on him, I’d bake another batch for Maddie. Just to be sure. I mean, yeah, she seemed okay, but I was still anxious about it. “We’re going to ace this. Quit flipping out.”
“Aren’t you the person who bluntly told me not to get too excited?” Jon asked, pacing the length of the lobby at A Taste of Magic. “You know we need this. Not just to pay off Marc, but to get everything back on track. I don’t want to screw it up.”
We were expecting Penelope and Grace Henderson at any moment. I no longer worried about getting the job. I’d put the time and my magic into the samples they would taste test, so success shouldn’t be an issue. Well, I hoped not. And no, I didn’t feel guilty—use what you got, that was my new motto. Besides, we’d give them their money’s worth, and they’d be thrilled at the results. I was positive of that.
“Yes, but now you can’t be nervous. Now, since they’ll be here at any second, you need to be persuasive, charming, and sure we are the best in the business.”
He stopped pacing and thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “I can do that.”
Smiling reassuringly, I said, “Of course you can. You’re the most charming man I know.”
The bell on the door jangled, and the well-dressed politician’s wife and her daughter strolled in. Penelope Henderson was tall, almost six foot, with ash blonde hair cropped close to her head. The effect was one of aged beauty and almost larger than life eyes.
Grace, in contrast, was barely taller than five foot and had long sweeping hair and a pixyish face. Unlike her mother, who wore a fashionable jewel-toned tea-length dress, Grace was dressed simply. Jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. Of course, I’d bet money that her ensemble, as casual as it was, cost more than most of my wardrobe put together. That’s the way it was with high society.
“Mr. Winterson and Ms. Stevens, I presume? I am Mrs. Henderson, and this is my daughter, Grace.”
Moving forward I stretched out my hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Please, come in. We have some samples for you and some ideas to share for your wedding.” I directed this last comment toward Grace, which earned me an icy glare from the mother. Apparently, the bride wasn’t in charge.
The door jangled again, and I glanced over. As soon as I saw who’d entered the shop, my blood turned cold. This wasn’t a scenario I’d considered. And suddenly, I wasn’t nearly as sure of our success as I’d been just a few seconds earlier. Troy Bellamy stood at the shop entrance, straight as a rod, angry eyes focused on me.
“Jon, why don’t you escort our guests into the backroom to show them the samples we’ve prepared? I’ll take care of our new customer.” I spoke calmly, and my smooth voice didn’t betray my nerves. Not sure how I managed it, I pulled it off. Troy walked closer, stopping somewhere between the front door and the counter. What was he doing there?
Jon glanced at me and nodded. “Please, come with me. I know you’ll love what A Taste of Magic can offer your daughter’s wedding.”
Mrs. Henderson stiffened her back. “I’d prefer to discuss matters here, where the sun is shining in the windows.”
“It’s plenty light enough. I assure you.” I sent a pleading look to Jon. The last thing we needed was Troy creating havoc with the client of our career. Losing this job would hurt. Big time.
Jon, bless his soul, with no clue at all to the severity of the situation, took it in stride. “Let me show you. If you’re still uncomfortable, we can bring everything out front.”
The mother didn’t look convinced, but Grace stepped in. “We have an appointment with the caterer in an hour, Mother.
Let’s not make them move everything out here. That will just waste time.”
Nodding briskly, Penelope Henderson said, “True. So very true.” With her hand on her daughter’s elbow, Mrs. Henderson guided Grace toward Jon. “Let’s get this over with then.”
I told myself to breathe. Once Jon had escorted the Hendersons out of the lobby, I pulled myself up straight. Facing the interloper, who’d stayed quiet thus far, I said, “Troy. What a surprise.” An unpleasant one, but still a surprise. “What can I do for you?”
He sneered. “I figured it out. It was the cake, wasn’t it? You hexed me with a cake.”
Stiffening, I looked over my shoulder. If the Hendersons had heard that, there was no way A Taste of Magic would get their business. And that would ruin everything. I waited a pause, but luckily, it seemed okay. They weren’t running from the shop yet.
“Don’t deny it,” Troy said. “Like I said before, my mother is a witch. You can’t fool me.”
My mind ran through all the possibilities of each answer I could give him. I chose to stay on the side of safety. Keeping my voice low, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Troy. You look like you’re feeling better.”
He nodded. “Yeah. After your sister cashed in my hard-earned check, all the symptoms faded. Funny that, don’t you think?”
His shirt was clean and tucked in, his pants freshly pressed; he could have been on his way to a job interview. Add in the fact that he wasn’t a terribly big man and I didn’t understand my anxiety. But then I looked into his eyes again, and I saw danger there. This man would do what ever he could to get what ever he wanted. Once again, I wondered how Alice had missed that.
A Taste of Magic Page 20
