A Spell for Trouble

by Esme Addison

  A man positioned behind a crescent-shaped white marble desk with the words Wesley, Inc. on the front observed her reaction with a smile. He carried himself with a posture that suggested a military background. “Spectacular, isn’t it? That view makes my day every morning.”

  Alex was captivated. All she could see was smooth, blue water. “It’s beautiful.”

  He grinned. “The Wesleys have the best of everything.”

  He was a striking man in his midtwenties with a bronzed complexion, close-cropped curly black hair, and a square jaw. “I assume you’re here for the job interviews?”

  Alex bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t actually invented a pretense for the visit. She’d thought she’d simply introduce herself to the Wesleys and make small talk. After all, the families knew each other. But now that she’d seen the majestic space in which the Wesleys conducted their business, she realized one didn’t simply wander into Wesley, Inc., headquarters to be neighborly.

  “No, I was hoping to speak with someone about another matter. Unfortunately, I’m not able to stay.” She glanced around the lobby, which was filled with young men and women in professional attire clutching leather binders and portfolios. “I, uh, didn’t realize there would be such a wait.”

  “You should’ve seen it this morning.” He chuckled. “It’s a career fair. Only happens once in a blue moon.”

  “I’ll bet.” Alex glanced around her one more time before leaning across the counter and reading the name tag on his lapel. “Listen, Harrison. I’m wondering if Tegan Wesley is here?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid Mrs. Wesley isn’t in. Did you want to leave a message?”

  Did she? “No, I’m … an old friend of the family. I’ll have to come back—”

  Harrison glanced toward the far end of the lobby, where a man and woman had stepped off an elevator. “Mr. Wesley,” he nodded. “And Ms. Wesley. Good afternoon.”

  For the second time since she’d entered the building, Alex’s breath stopped. The man Harrison had addressed as Mr. Wesley was wearing a black suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and tall, fit frame. Darkly attractive with short dark-brown hair, angular features, full lips, and strong eyebrows, he was tan even in early spring. He exuded self-assurance and power, and the room fell silent as he entered the lobby. At least, she thought it had. She couldn’t be sure, because she was staring at him and his dark eyes were fixed right on hers. Dylan Wesley.

  “Good afternoon, Harrison,” Mr. Wesley replied, without turning his gaze from Alex.

  Bryn was at Dylan’s side, pretty and impeccably dressed. “Harrison,” she said coolly. “Please send for the car.”

  Harrison instantly pressed a button. “Yes, ma’am.”

  But Dylan was still watching Alex with an intensity that made her heart race. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  Bryn pursed her lips. “They’re not going to wait forever, Dylan.”

  Alex could barely breathe. So this was Dylan Wesley? How had Minka neglected to mention that he looked like a movie star?

  Dylan Wesley barely acknowledged his sister’s concern. “They’ll wait as long as I want them to.”

  She huffed. “Fine. I guess I’m going alone, then.”

  Dylan stepped closer to Alex, enveloping her in his cologne of spice and smoke. “I know you,” he said, lowering his deep voice. “From long ago.”

  Her throat tightened and her face burned. “You—I—you must be mistaken—”

  “I’m never mistaken.” He was invading her space, towering over her and knitting his brow as he tried to place her face. “You’re a Sobieski, aren’t you?”

  How had he known? The blood rushed to her cheeks. She started to deny it, but then Dylan continued, “Of course you are. You’re Aleksandra.” The corner of his mouth rose. “You used to summer in Bellamy Bay. We played in Lidia’s garden.” His eyes softened. “Don’t you remember me?”

  Images appeared in a flood. The shy, sentimental boy who had played with her on those lazy summer days and offered her a crown of flowers. They had turned her aunt’s lush garden into a kingdom. He’d appear only when she was alone, which had caused her parents to brush him off as an imaginary friend, no matter how much she’d insisted he was real.

  “You were my queen,” he said, his voice going husky.

  She felt as if her face were on fire. “And you were my king. That was you,” she whispered. “I must have forgotten your name.”

  “I never gave you my real name.” He chuckled. “I swore our driver to secrecy. If my mother had found out I was sneaking off …” His voice trailed, and he led her off to the side of the room. “So why are you here, if you aren’t looking for me?” His brow furrowed. “You don’t need a job, do you?”

  She chuckled uncomfortably, pushing the oddly intimate memory away. “No, I don’t.” She searched for a tactful way to explain that she was simply spying on his family. She settled on explaining her own predicament. “You may have heard about my aunt.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid a lot of people are talking about it.” A shadow crossed his face. “We should go somewhere more private to discuss this. Come with me.”

  Alex followed him into a waiting elevator. He pressed a button for the fifth floor, and they rode in silence until the doors opened again and he said, “After you.” Then she followed him to an office at the end of the hall. The door said Dylan Wesley / Chief Financial Officer.

  He swung open the heavy wooden door to reveal a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows that stared over the eternity of the ocean. “Can I get you anything to drink?” He gestured to a wet bar against the wall.

  Alex held up a hand. “No, thank you.”

  “Then let’s sit.”

  The decor of the office was surprisingly traditional, in contrast to the overall modern feel of the building. Dylan’s office furnishings were stately dark ebony and burgundy leather, and he directed Alex to sit on a couch. The leather was smooth and cool beneath her legs. He chose a seat in a matching chair opposite her, a round wood table between them. “I was sorry to hear about Lidia’s troubles,” he began in his polished, prep-school voice with just a hint of elegant southern drawl. He unfastened the button on his suit jacket. “If there’s anything we can do to help …”

  Alex recalled her aunt’s reaction at the mere mention of the Wesley name, and Minka’s warning that the family was dangerous. Her shoulders tightened. “That’s kind of you,” she began carefully. “But our families don’t get along. I don’t think my aunt would accept your help.”

  “Then why are you here, Aleksandra?” His features took on a suspicious bent.

  “Just Alex is fine,” she said.

  “All right, Alex. If you don’t want my help, then what do you want?”

  She folded her hands on her lap to still the nervous energy rushing though her body. “My aunt didn’t kill anyone.”

  He flung one arm across the back of his chair and casually shrugged. “Then the police are wrong and they’ll fix their mistake.”

  “I understand your mother had a dispute with Randy Bennett over some land. Do you know what that was about? Did it involve the land where Bay Realty Corporation is developing an apartment building?”

  Understanding settled across his sharp features, but instead of being angry, Dylan smiled. “I see. You’re a sleuth now, is that it?” Alex’s face boiled as he continued. “If so, you’re in the wrong place. My mother is a pillar of society. She would never kill anyone, least of all Mr. Bennett.”

  “Of course you would say that,” Alex replied. “But that wasn’t my question. I asked you what you knew about this land dispute.”

  “Which one?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he studied her. “We’ve invested in several of their developments, and if you know anything about real estate, you know that it’s never smooth sailing.” He shrugged. “Land disputes are routine, I’m afraid. The lawyers deal with it. Although it’s rare that anyone ends up
dead.” He grinned. “Frankly, it’s all boring, and I try not to get involved.”

  Now Alex smiled. “You’re the chief financial officer. How do you not get involved?”

  “I open the coffers as needed. You’d be amazed at how many problems money can solve.”

  “Look. Someone ended Randy Bennett’s life and went to a lot of trouble to frame my aunt. Your family hates mine for some reason—” She paused when Dylan began to chuckle. “What’s funny?”

  “You realize this isn’t the first time a member of your family has killed anyone, right? Your great-great-grandmother killed my great-great-granduncle.”

  “That’s not true.” Alex declared reflexively.

  “I’m afraid it is. There’s a reason our families don’t get along.”

  Her head was spinning. Pepper Bellamy had also said a member of her family had killed someone before, but Alex had dismissed it as absurd. Now she wondered if there was truth to the story after all.

  “I don’t subscribe to any of it, you understand,” Dylan continued. “Ancestral animosity. Who has the energy to hold a grudge for something that happened over a hundred years ago?”

  Dylan uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “Yes, there are still some hard feelings in my family. But not enough to actually frame your aunt for murder. We have a thriving corporation and other interests in our lives. A fixation on revenge would be … alarming.”

  Alex’s skin was on fire, so deep was her discomfort. How did she not know anything about her own family? How had Minka not prepared her for any of this? One thing was sure: before she went any further, she had to get to the root of this story. Otherwise she’d only be inviting more opportunity for someone to expose her ignorance the way Dylan just had.

  She looked up, expecting to see Dylan gloating. He wasn’t. “It is good to see you again, Aleksandra. I’d always wondered where you’d gone. We all heard when your mother drowned.” His brow tightened. “I was very sorry to hear it.”

  She swallowed, unsure of what to do with either his kindness or her unfortunate attraction to him. The man was gorgeous. “Thank you,” she said, and rose to her feet. “I should get going. You must be very busy.”

  He stood. “I try to never be too busy to see old friends.” He placed a hand softly on the small of her back as he guided her to the door, sending a jolt of awareness through her body. “In fact, if you’re in town for a while, I would love to see you again.”

  Was that an invitation? She didn’t know how to respond. “I’m not sure how long I’m here,” she replied truthfully. “And my ciocia needs me at Botanika—”

  “Of course. You’re very busy, too. But if you’re in the neighborhood again, the invitation stands.” He took her hand gently in his. “After all, you always welcomed me.”

  There went her breath again. He was an intense one, this Dylan Wesley. “It’s nice to see you again, Dylan. I’ll leave you to your meeting.” She carefully withdrew her hand from his grasp. “I’ll show myself out.”

  She headed to the elevator and pressed the button. Again, it was waiting for her. Slipping inside the chamber, she was relieved when the doors finally closed and she no longer felt Dylan’s gaze on her back.

  Chapter Nine

  Alex left Wesley, Inc., and hurried across the parking lot to Minka’s green hybrid sedan. For a long time, she sat in the car and stared out the windshield. She’d been disgusted to read Pepper Bellamy’s blog posts about her aunt, but to find out that her great-great-grandmother had actually killed a man made her head hurt. What else was true in that blog? Was she going to find out next that the Sobieski women were actually witches?

  She laughed to herself and turned the ignition. Of course they weren’t witches. She came from a long line of women who were good with plants and herbal medicine, and in more superstitious times such women had been labeled witches. Maybe Captain Bellamy believed it with his whole heart, but that didn’t make it true. But the murder? Now that was something verifiable, and there was obviously a very dark story around it if the Sobieskis and Wesleys were still feuding decades later.

  “It’s my family, too,” she said as she pulled out of the parking space. “I deserve to know what happened.”

  Her father should have told her, but maybe he hadn’t known, either. Maybe it’s my fault, Alex reasoned. She could have done some research when she was older and at least uncovered the basics. She felt silly, not knowing anything about her mother’s family which obviously had very deep roots here in Bellamy Bay. Her father’s family had immigrated from England around the turn of the century; no big secrets there. All she knew about her mother’s side was that they had immigrated from Poland and settled into a small community in Bellamy Bay. Her mother had died too early to give her details, but man—Alex had missed some major details.

  Once she reached Botanika, she charged inside and stomped right up to Minka. “You’ve been keeping things from me,” she declared, and backpedaled when she saw the confusion on Minka’s face. “Sorry. Not just you, I mean the collective you. The family. There are lots of things no one has told me.”

  Minka furrowed her brow. There was a fashion magazine spread out on the counter in front of her, a confirmation that business had not picked up that day. “Where is this coming from, Alex?”

  She flung her purse and the car keys down on the counter. “I just had a conversation with Dylan Wesley. He told me that our great-great-grandmother murdered his great-great-granduncle and that’s why our families hate each other.” She folded her arms across her chest. “This seems like relevant information, considering you knew I was going to talk to the Wesleys. Is this the complicated history you didn’t want to tell me about?”

  Minka shrugged. “It was, like, a hundred years ago.”

  “But you should have warned me. I was caught completely off guard when Dylan mentioned it.”

  Minka glanced at the clock. “Four thirty,” she said. “We haven’t had a single customer today.” She shut the magazine and took the car keys. “You want to go home?”

  “Only if you’re going to answer my questions once we’re there.” Alex reached for her purse. “Don’t think I’m going to forget this.”

  “Oh, I know you won’t. But my mom is the one who knows family history best.” She smiled and set a hand on Alex’s arm, urging her toward the door. “Let’s go. Mom probably doesn’t know what to do with herself, and Athena probably misses you.”

  But Lidia had found plenty to do on her first full day of house arrest. “I straightened up and did some baking,” she announced when they entered.

  In fact, Lidia had alphabetized her spice rack, grouped the food in the cabinet by type and purpose, organized and polished her pots and pans, and baked sernik, Polish cheesecake with drizzled chocolate topping, makowiec, a sweet poppy-seed roll, piernik, gingerbread, and peanut-butter dog cookies. “Athena has a new favorite treat,” Lidia said, and lifted a small round cookie from a plate. “Athena, sit.”

  The German shepherd quickly sat at attention, already salivating. Alex shook her head as she watched Athena gobble up her cookie. If this happened every day, she’d have to put Athena on a diet by June. Heck, if she didn’t keep up her daily jogs, she’d have to put herself on a diet. When she’d lived in New York, there’d been a Polish bakery located a few blocks from her apartment, but she’d never found the time to visit except around Christmas and Easter when she really craved some holiday pastries. With her aunt baking her childhood favorites on a daily basis, it would be a challenge to abstain from eating cake every day.

  Kamila sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, looking shell-shocked. “I’ve tried to get her to calm down,” she said. “But she won’t stop moving.”

  “Are you ready for dinner?” Lidia asked as she headed to the stove. “I made some borscht.”

  Minka held up a hand. “Not yet, Mom. Wow, you’ve been busy.” She helped herself to a slice of cheesecake, promising to run an extra mile later.

  “Yes, I
’m determined to make the best of this.” Lidia polished an imaginary spot on the marble counter with a dish towel. “I may take up knitting.”

  Alex, Kamila, and Minka exchanged a glance. “Great,” Minka said. “But look, Alex was asking me some questions about our family.”

  “Like what?” Lidia folded up the dish towel neatly and set it beside the sink.

  “Like about the thing with the Wesleys?” Minka said softly.

  Lidia froze, her back to them. “What thing?”

  Now Alex spoke up. “The thing where my great-great-grandmother killed their great-great-granduncle. I think I deserve to know what happened.”

  She waited for another one of Lidia’s temper flares, but to her surprise, her aunt turned with a look of resignation on her face. “You’re right. You do deserve to know.” Lidia combed her fingers through her long black hair and gestured at the spread of baked goods on the breakfast bar. “Should we sit here? At least there’s food. Maybe something to drink?”

  Lidia bustled around the kitchen, grinding beans and finding clean mugs, while Alex joined Kamila, even though she had no appetite.

  “How did you hear about this?” Lidia began, once the coffee was served.

  Alex looked away briefly. “Pepper Bellamy has been saying things on her blog.”

  “I see.” Lidia’s mouth set into a straight line.

  “We need to talk to Pepper,” Kamila said as she broke off a piece of a muffin. “Do you want me to handle it? She’s always been a little afraid of me.”

  But Lidia set her hand on her daughter’s forearm. “Not now, love. One thing at a time. The thing is, Alex.” Lidia took a deep breath. “There was a death long ago, but it’s not what anyone thinks. And ever since you came back to Bellamy Bay, I’ve known this day would come, but I was waiting for the right time to tell you—” She lifted her hands in the air. “I guess I’ll just say it. We’re witches.”

  Alex laughed out loud. “Yeah. Pepper says that, too. She’s ridiculous.”