On and on and on.
I passed the stack of busywork to CeeCee and she slapped a note to it.
* * *
For Kait
* * *
“Should I put an XO at the bottom?” she asked me, flashing another mischievous grin.
I smiled but waved off the offer. “Let’s not. But thank you, CeeCee. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Possibly in the literal sense,” she replied, wiggling her finger. “Word around the office is Hyacinth is going on a diet next week, and you know how she gets when she can’t have carbs.”
I cringed.
CeeCee giggled. “Your head would be on that spike for sure.”
Chapter Two
Thanks to a collision with a mail delivery fairy and my afternoon latte, I was sent scrambling across the haven, back home to change, before my appointment at the bridal boutique. If I were meeting any other client, I likely would have made my apologies for the mess on my blouse and moved on, but with Lucinda Vanguard, the vampy mother of the groom, I wasn’t taking any chances. One complaint from her about my sloppy appearance would be all the ammo Hyacinth needed to yank me off the wedding and stick me in a closet, bespelling company pens all day.
So, with less than an hour to go before the appointment, I took a Shimmer Bus to my high-rise condo building and barreled up to the sixth floor. I didn’t expect my younger sister, Harmony, to be home, but when I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I heard two voices: Harmony and a male I couldn’t quite place.
I stilled in the doorway, my keys still in hand, uncertain of what I’d walked into. “Uh, hello?”
Patrick, our next door neighbor, poked his head out of the kitchen and grinned at me. “Hey, Anastasia, we’re whipping up some paninis. You want one? They have fresh basil and tomatoes from my garden.”
Patrick Luis lived in the condo to the right of mine, and while we’d been neighbors for over a year, I’d never invited him into my home. Apparently, Harmony had amended that.
“Uh, hello, Patrick. What brings you by?” I asked, dropping my purse on the table by the front door.
Harmony was the one who answered. “We’re making sandwiches. You want one or not?”
I frowned when Patrick disappeared back into the kitchen. He was a nice enough guy, but I hoped Harmony’s sudden interest in him was strictly in the platonic sense. Patrick had a propensity for staying out too late, getting drunk, and coming home disoriented and unable to remember the spell to release the security wards on his own front door. As his nearest neighbor, I tended to be his three-a.m. hero.
Harmony was a magnet for trouble, and the last thing she needed was a party-hardy wizard in her life. After a handful of years living life by the seat of her pants, Harmony wound up broke and homeless on my front steps a month prior. I’d agreed to let her crash on my couch and arranged for her to work at a local eatery where she could start rebuilding her life. One of the biggest rules I’d given her, besides holding down the job, was no romantic relationships. She was a smart girl, but easily distracted, and if I had any hope of getting her off my couch, I needed her focused.
“I can’t stay,” I answered Patrick, pausing at the archway to the kitchen. The shining panini press I’d received as a housewarming gift from a well-meaning coworker sat on the counter, two sandwiches wedged between the plates. I’d never taken it out of the box.
“I only stopped by to change,” I continued, gesturing at my stained blouse. “I need to hurry up and change and get across town to Aurelia’s dress boutique before my clients get there.”
“You want to take one to go?” Patrick offered helpfully. “We made fresh pesto and everything.”
At his mention of it, I drew in a deep sniff of the fresh herbs and grilled sourdough. Patrick had a wonderful herb garden on the roof of our building, and my mouth watered. “Tempting, but with my luck today, I’d end up wearing it. Thank you, though.”
He nodded and returned his attention to crafting the next sandwich. Harmony sat on the counter beside the press, sipping a glass of iced tea. I had half a dozen questions, but stuffed them all down and left the kitchen to go to the bedroom. It was a good sized room, with plenty of space around the king-size bed and upholstered bench that sat at the foot of it. The one bathroom was attached to the master by way of a walk-in closet, but it also had a second door so guests didn’t have to go through my bedroom to use it. I stepped inside the closet and the small chandelier overhead turned on automatically, sensing my presence.
After sifting through a few options, I selected a periwinkle button-up blouse and slipped it on. The soiled one went into the sink with some cold water and a few drops from a bottle of stain-removing potion. I frowned at the soggy shirt, wishing I knew some kind of spell that would have removed it with the flick of a hand. Unfortunately, my magic was limited and even basic cleaning spells seemed out of reach. I dried my hands and ran them through my hair. The curls I’d set that morning were wilting, but I didn’t have time to fix them.
Patrick and Harmony were still in the kitchen when I passed back through the condo. With a final apprehensive glance, I said goodbye and then hurried back downstairs and out into the street to hop on the first Shimmer Bus that stopped in front of the luxury condo building.
They say that airports see more passionate kisses than wedding chapels, and I was convinced that bridal-boutique dressing rooms see more tears than some funeral homes. Most of the time, the tears are born out of joy, but in my years as a wedding planner assistant and now full-fledged coordinator, I’d seen more than a few breakdowns from sheer frustration
Alice Merryweather was putting on a brave face, but as she stood in the three-way mirror, waiting for the seamstress to make the final adjustments to the delicate lace, I could see the frustrated tears starting to build.
The source of her distress, Lucinda Vanguard, sat in a plush chair, sipping from a flute of champagne, one lean leg crossed over the knee of the other. She was swathed in a black Gucci suit that had been tailored to perfection, fitting her preternaturally fit body like a glove. She cast a sharp eye at her future daughter-in-law’s reflection and I braced myself.
“The dress is lovely on you, Alice. Although, I can’t stop thinking just how much better it would look if you’d let Dimitri turn you. You’d lose that little bit of flab under your arms.” She sipped her champagne, her silver-blue eyes gleaming. “All that cellulite on your thighs would melt right off, too.”
Alice winced as though she’d been stricken, but she didn’t say a word.
Aurelia Pierre, one of the haven’s most prominent fashion designers, looked up at Alice, her wand stilled. “I’m just about finished,” she told the bride with a kindly smile.
Lucinda had been antagonizing her future daughter-in-law from the first consultation. When her son Dimitri was around, it was to a lesser degree, but when it was the two of them, on their own, she was ruthless. Of course, her barbs and digs were all delivered with a casual smile, but there was no mistaking her intentions.
“I think you look stunning,” I interjected, flashing my own cool smile at Lucinda before giving a sincere one to Alice.
Aurelia gave her wand another series of graceful flicks, the magic cinching and tucking away the final bit of unfinished hem. With a satisfied smile, she rose to her feet and considered Alice in the mirror. “You’re a vision, my dear,” she said, giving Alice’s arm a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Aurelia. The dress is stunning. Even better than I could ever dream.” Alice gave the designer a watery smile and then turned her attention to me. “Anastasia, would you mind helping me change? I don’t want to snag the gown,” she said, then shifted a dark look at Lucinda. “That is, if you’re sure my cellulite won’t offend your eyes.”
I closed my eyes, waiting for Lucinda to retaliate with another barb.
Instead, she laughed, the sound a low, vibrating purr. “It was only a suggestion, my dear. You’re going to have to develop a thicker skin i
f you intend on joining House Vanguard.”
Alice’s jaw was set in stone as she turned away and headed to the changing room at the back of the small shop. Lucinda smiled to herself and downed the rest of her champagne. She caught me watching her and her smile widened. “I’m only trying to help her,” she told me, still unperturbed. She reached up and ran a finger over the strand of pearls around her neck.
My own jaw tightened but I swallowed down a fiery retort and spun on my heel to go help Alice in the dressing room. A snarl sounded as I reached for the doorknob, and I paused. “Alice?” I asked, rapping my knuckles on the door.
“Come in,” she said.
I cracked the door open and found the young woman raking her fingers through her hair, tearing apart the perfectly-styled chignon she’d had at the start of the fitting. Tears streamed down her face and, she wiped them away with a violent disregard for her mascara and eyeliner.
“Alice, it’s all right,” I said, hurrying to close the door behind me. The last thing either of us needed was for Lucinda to get her hands on more ammunition. “Can I get you something?”
She snorted. “A wooden stake?”
I smiled. “Darn. I knew I forgot something when I left the house.”
She laughed, the sound muffled as she buried her face in her hands. “Why is she so awful? What have I ever done to deserve her?”
I didn’t have an answer for her. She knew it just as well as I did. I couldn’t lie to her, and say Lucinda probably meant well. She didn’t. We both knew that too.
“It’s not about her, remember. No matter how much she tries to get under your skin, you have to remember that this is your day. Yours and Dimitri’s.”
“No.” She shook her head, her blonde hair tumbling down past her shoulders. “No, it’s really not. I don’t think I can do this, Ana.”
A twinge of panic clawed at me, but I shoved it back, reminding myself this was a common occurrence. Cold feet. The jitters. Nothing that couldn’t be managed with some soothing words and a cocktail … or three.
“Alice, you are going to be the most beautiful bride. Don’t think about what Lucinda thinks. All that matters is the way you feel and how happy you are going to be when you finally get to walk down the aisle. Try to imagine the look on Dimitri’s face when he sees you in that dress.”
Alice sniffed and wiped at her eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at her full lips. It was easy to see what had ensnared the vampire lord’s heart. She was a striking woman, with a peaches and cream complexion, aquamarine eyes that popped under thick, dark lashes. Even with her fine hair in a mess and her eyeliner smeared, she looked like a beautiful movie star.
“He’s going to love it,” she said.
Her smile was short lived though, dying as soon as Lucinda’s voice floated over the door, “Alice, dear, you need to hurry. We don’t want to be late for dinner.”
Alice’s eyes fluttered closed.
“We’re nearly done,” I called back, patting Alice’s shoulder.
Lucinda’s footsteps were silent, but moments later, her voice sounded far away, as though she’d wandered off to take a phone call or speak with one of the boutiques staff members.
“She’s making me sign a pre-nup,” Alice told me as I worked on the buttons of her exquisite gown. “That’s what the dinner is about. It’s with her lawyer.”
“Oh. Cutting it a little close,” I replied.
There were only two weeks to the wedding, so it struck me as odd such a big step hadn’t already been taken. It was the one area of the wedding planning process where I was not at all involved.
“Dimitri didn’t want to have a pre-nup,” Alice continued. “He fought against it during most of our engagement, but a few weeks ago, Lucinda threatened to shut everything down if we didn’t sign. Since she’s paying for the wedding, Dimitri said we didn’t have a choice. I think there was more to it. But of course, I wasn’t invited to any of their secret meetings. None of this would even be an issue if I was a vampire. That’s why she really doesn’t like me. Because I’m not one of them.”
I frowned at the bitterness in Alice’s voice. She’d gone through a lot over the course of her relationship with Dimitri, even beyond the last eight months of planning their wedding. Having gone from a human, thinking vampires and witches were the stuff of Hollywood blockbusters and campfire stories, to waking up beside one every day had to be jarring. As far as I knew, she was one of only a handful of humans ever granted access to the Seattle haven and the rest of the supernatural, and highly protected, community. I could only imagine what that discovery had been like.
“I’m going to get this back to Aurelia,” I told her, holding the gown in my arms, careful to not let the long train drag on the plush carpeting. “Try and hang in there. Remember, there’s only two weeks to go. After that, there won’t be anything she can do or say to stop this wedding from happening.”
Alice scoffed. “Unless she gets impatient and kills me herself.”
Chapter Three
“How was the thing at the dress shop?” Harmony asked when I returned to the condo later that evening. Patrick was gone, but the smell of his garden-fresh tomatoes and basil lingered and I regretted turning down the offer for one of the sandwiches.
I shrugged out of my cream blazer and hung it on the back of one of the dining room chairs. “We all survived.”
Harmony snorted. “That good, huh?”
“You don’t even wanna know.” I crossed to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but tonight, I needed a big ole glass.
“Is this the vampire/human wedding you’ve been working on?” Harmony asked.
I nodded.
“How does that even work?” she asked. “I didn’t think humans were allowed in the haven. Ever. I mean, that’s kinda rule numero uno, isn’t it?”
“Technically, yes. But the Vanguards are one of the oldest vampire houses, and they have more than a little sway. Dimitri Vanguard, the groom, has friends in very high places, and he pulled in some favors at the Supernatural Protection Agency. Conveniently, right before the engagement announcement was made public in the Haven Herald, someone at the agency found a great-great-grandmother with fae blood in the bride’s lineage, which technically allows her access to the haven, even though she herself doesn’t possess any magic.”
“You think the grandmother story is made up?” Harmony asked.
I shrugged. “It’s really none of my business. I’ve got enough to worry about if this wedding is going to go off without a hitch. As it is, the mother of the groom and the bride are about to come to blows, and I think we both know who wins that fight.”
Harmony popped a potato chip into her mouth as I sipped my wine. I realized she wasn’t wearing the black dress she usually wore to work. When she’d shown up on my doorstep a month ago, she’s been broke and jobless. I’d managed to cash in a favor and got her a job working as a hostess at Luna, one of the Seattle Haven’s most illustrious eateries. “You working tonight?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “It’s my night off.”
“Mmm.” I took another sip. “What was that whole thing with Patrick this afternoon? You’re not … interested in him, are you?”
She chortled. “Stars, no! He’s like a hundred years old, Stace!”
I frowned at her. “You do realize he’s probably my age. Since when is thirty the new hundred?”
Harmony flapped a hand and smiled at me. “You know what I mean.”
There was an eight-year gap between us, but we looked similarly enough in age that people often mistook us for twins. At least, they had, before Harmony chopped off her hair, dyed it blonde and pink, and developed an affinity for thick, dark eye makeup.
“Anyway, Patrick and I are just friends,” Harmony assured me. “When I got home from my yoga class, he was sitting out in the hallway. I guess his oven had some issues, and the maintenance crew was working to get it back up and running. I invited
him over to wait it out.”
“Aha.”
“He’s a nice guy, though,” she said. “Maybe you should date him.”
I snorted, and wine burned my nose. Wincing, I shook my head. “So not my type.”
A mischievous glint flashed in Harmony’s eyes. “And what is your type? I swear, I can’t even remember the last time you had a boyfriend.”
I furrowed my brows. “How would you know? Until a month ago, it’d been over a year since we’d seen each other, and even then, it was only at obligatory family events, like the Yule feast.”
“Exactly!” Harmony said, pointing at me. “You’ve never brought a guy to a family gathering. Which means either you haven’t had a serious relationship, or if you were, you were hiding him.”
I laughed. “Or, option C, I wanted to spare him the emotional scars that would inevitably follow a Yule weekend with our family. I mean, come on Harmony, you’ve met them.”
She considered it and then shrugged. “They’re not so bad.”
My eyebrows snapped up. “Not so bad? Let’s see, last year, at the Harvest feast, Uncle Roberto backed his car into that fire hydrant when he left to go on a beer run. Aunt Janine was so drunk she stripped down to her skivvies and ran through the geyser like she was a kid playing with a sprinkler!”
Harmony snorted. “Oh! I forgot about that!”
“See, the fact that you could forget something like that just proves my point. It means that didn’t even hit the top Richter of crazy for a Winters family gathering.”
“All right, I’ll give you the point. But that doesn’t answer my original question.”
Drat.
Harmony grinned.
I sighed and swirled my wine glass, all amusement fading. “It’s been a few years, okay. I mean, I’ve gone on some dates, but I’ve been busy with work. I worked my tail off for the promotion to the magic wedding-planning department. Every weekend of my life has been booked up for the last three years. Birthday parties, bachelorette weekends, baby showers, retirement dinners, anniversary celebrations. No one wants to date someone who can barely find time to go out to dinner on a regular basis, let alone leave the haven long enough for a romantic weekend or getaway.”
Witchy Weddings: A Magic Witch Mystery Series: The complete Touch of Magic series Page 6
