Jade waved a hand. “Think nothing of it. Come back to my office where we can chat in private. Would you like a drink? I'll have Frederico bring you anything you like.”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.
Jade seemed almost disappointed. “Very well. This way.”
Her office was more like a magazine editor's office than the owner of a small insurance company. The chairs were sleek and modern without being sterile. The accessories seemed more suited to a celebrity home. A portrait of Jade hung behind her on the wall behind her desk.
“You look so familiar,” I said. “Have we met at a coven meeting?”
“Doubtful. I can’t be bothered to attend coven meetings. I only show up if there’s a reason to network.” She shrugged unapologetically. “It’s possible you may have seen me outside Thornhold.”
“You've been to see my aunt?” I queried.
Jade smirked. “Not your aunt, honey. Your cousin, Florian.”
Ah. That made more sense. “I guess that was a while ago.” No wonder I didn't remember.
Jade looked thoughtful. “If two weeks is your idea of a while ago, then I suppose so.”
I frowned. “Two weeks ago?” Two weeks ago Florian was already dating Delphine. My gut twisted. First Wren’s report from Elixir and now this. Florian wasn’t reverting to old habits; he’d clearly never abandoned them.
“I didn’t realize Florian…entertained witches,” I said carefully. “He seems to make a point of avoiding them.”
“I’m a safe bet for him,” Jade said. “I have no interest in marriage.”
Her reply piqued my interest. “No?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I like my life the way it is. Nice and simple. I only use Pepper as my last name. None of that hyphenated nonsense.” She observed me coolly. “You seem like a witch after my own heart, sticking with Rose.”
“It’s a good name,” I said vaguely. Of course, I’d been oblivious to coven naming customs when I got married, and Karl and I had agreed to use Rose as Marley’s middle name.
“Especially in this town,” Jade said. “You have a child, of course, so our situations differ, but I do as I please and I don’t answer to anyone. No one leaves the toilet seat up or the pantry door open. There’s no one’s toothpaste in the sink. It’s blissful.”
“Florian keeps a neat house,” I said. “He doesn’t like mess.” Why was I trying to sell this witch on Florian? I should have been outraged on Delphine’s behalf.
“I noticed,” Jade said. “Still not interested.”
“You don’t want to have a special relationship?” I asked. “Even if marriage isn’t in the cards?”
“Honey, all my relationships are special. One night, one year. They all matter.” She tossed her shiny hair over her shoulder. “Florian…Well, let’s just say he is definitely something special. Too bad there’s only one male Rose running around town. I’d love to sample another.”
I’d spent years on my own and, although I was fine with it, there was a part of me that longed for the companionship of a secure relationship. That was what the sheriff was offering me. That was also what Alec couldn’t give me. At least the vampire was honest about it. My cousin Florian seemed confused about his capability at the moment.
“So, what kind of insurance are you interested in today?" Jade asked. “We have a variety of magical insurance policies, depending on the types of spells you anticipate using. I’ll tell you right upfront that we don’t underwrite necromancy policies.”
“I’m still a novice,” I said. “The potential for failure is enormous.”
Her laugh was deep and throaty. “If you’re working with water spells, we have special flood insurance for such occasions. We offer full disaster coverage in the event that you create multiple catastrophes at once. Obviously, those premiums will run a bit higher. Unfortunately, our rates for novices are more expensive because of the risk, but as you develop your skills, the rates will decrease over time.”
“Do you cover all kinds of magic?” I asked. “Or just witches and wizards?”
She gestured to multiple pamphlets on her desk. “All types. Fairy magic, oracles….”
“Fortune telling?”
“Yes, I issue policies to fortune tellers on occasion,” she said. “Not many insurers are willing to offer them policies, so I’ve carved a small niche. Truth be told, they’re often more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of the delay in determining whether an act will or will not happen. It's easier for a situation when the term is finite. For example, if a fortune teller reveals that a pregnant woman will give birth to a son this time around, then it's easy to issue the policy, knowing that an outcome is inevitable. If the fortune teller reveals that a customer will have a son and leaves the timing too general, that's a more difficult policy to underwrite. If it's a woman, then we need to wait for the end of her fertile years. If it's a man, then you could be waiting until his death, so we don't write policies for such circumstances.”
“I didn't realize that seers were so reliable that you’d feel comfortable issuing insurance policies based on their predictions.”
She examined her perfectly manicured white nails. “It depends on the seer. Not all are created equal. That’s why they have a rating system. We only insure four-star seers or higher.”
“How about that? I learn something new every day.” I paused. “What about carnival seers? Do they have good reputations, as opposed to the local ones?”
“Some are better than others. We tend to see the same crop every year. I do my best to only issue to the most accurate.”
“What about Madame Bovary?” I asked. “I’ve heard mixed reviews about her.”
Jade's eyes narrowed. “Bianca used to have a five-star rating. It's a shame that she let her personal life interfere with her work.”
“Her personal life? What you mean?”
Jade sighed and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “We just had an argument about this topic the other day. To be honest, I'm still a little bent out of shape over it.”
“An argument with Madame Bovary? She was here?”
“No, on the phone,” Jade said. “She called me multiple times to try and persuade me to change my mind, but policy is sacrosanct here.”
“Change your mind about what?”
“Her rating changed this year due to complaints about her predictions. Once there are a certain number of legitimate complaints, it has to be reported. Once it’s reported, we have to take into consideration when underwriting policies. She had to be dropped. There’s nothing I can do. She was unhappy with the change in circumstances.”
I wondered whether Jade was the phone call that I’d overheard. It was highly likely.
“Do you happen to know what was going on in her personal life that made her job more difficult?”
“Not specifically,” Jade said. “You should ask her assistant.”
“She had an assistant?” I asked.
“All seers have an assistant,” Jade said. “Bianca’s was called….” Jade snapped her fingers. “Zola. That’s it!”
There’d been no sign of an assistant when Marley and I had visited the yellow tent. “Do you know whether Zola is part of the carnival this year?”
Jade shook her glossy head. “I don’t. It was hard to carry on a conversation with Bianca. She was so outraged that she stopped being rational. We must’ve had five different phone calls to have the same conversation over again.”
“Thanks so much for talking to me,” I said. “I’ll let you know what I decide about an insurance policy.” I was beginning to think it wasn’t such a bad idea.
“Anytime,” Jade said. “Be sure to give Florian my best.” She laughed. “What am I saying? I already have.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I said, pulling on a pair of black leggings and a sleeveless grey tunic top. “There’s a murderer on the loose and I’m baking magic d
onuts, or whatever they are.”
“It means a lot to me,” Marley said. She sat cross-legged on my bed with a book in her lap.
I gave my daughter a pointed look. “I’m putting on makeup to go hang out in someone’s kitchen. Don’t say I’ve never sacrificed for you.”
Marley smiled. “You look beautiful, if that helps.”
“Maybe a little.”
“You also get to kick Holly’s baking butt, if that helps.”
I hesitated. “That exact thought may have occurred to me.”
“I don’t understand what he sees in her,” Marley said. “She’s not his type at all.”
I laughed and slipped on my cheap bangle bracelets. Nothing but quality for these ladies. “And you know his type?”
“If you read his books like I do, you’d understand him better.”
“I don’t need to understand him,” I said. “I just need to tolerate him. And her.”
“I doubt she’ll be in the picture very long,” Marley said.
I turned to look at her. “What makes you say that?”
Marley shrugged. “Like I said, she’s not his type. They’ll both realize it soon enough.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I smeared lipstick across my lips. “Do you even like any of these kids? Pippi Longstocking and Liliputian?”
Marley groaned. “Pippin and Liliput, Mom. They’re okay. They’re very popular. Everyone wants to go to their parties and stuff.”
“Do you?”
Marley plucked a thread on the bedspread. “I don’t know. I feel like I should want to.”
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her. “You don’t have to feel like anything. If you like them, great. If they’re awful kids and you only pretend to like them because everyone else pretends to like them, don’t bother.”
“I guess I’m still on the fence,” she admitted.
“Yet you still want me to be a Power Puff?”
“Everyone talks about the Power Puffs like they’re the best moms on the planet. I want everyone to know you’re awesome, too.”
My expression softened. “Marley, you don’t need to prove anything. You and I both know I’m awesome and that’s enough.” I kissed her cheek. “You’re awesome, too, by the way.”
“I like how you tacked that on at the end, like an afterthought,” Marley said. She sighed dramatically. “Story of my life.”
I swatted her leg. “You’d better watch your step, girl.”
“And you’d better watch the time,” Marley said. “You can’t be late. They’ll kick you out of the group.”
“Then I guess I’d better hurry.”
When I arrived at B’linda’s mansion, the Puffs were already gathered around the island, discussing strategy. Colette had a list of the competitors and which baked good they planned to enter.
“Who’s Holly?” Sasha asked. “I don’t recognize her name, but she’s competing with the Bakewell Tarts.”
“Who are the Bakewell Tarts?” I asked.
Sasha scowled. “A group of single moms.” She winced. “Oops, sorry about that.”
“Holly’s not a single mom, but she is single,” I said. “She’s new to town.”
“Then why is she competing on a team of moms?” Ivy asked.
“Probably because they were the only ones desperate enough to accept her,” B’linda said.
Tension spread through my body. I couldn’t decide whether they were trashing the Bakewell Tarts or single moms. Or both.
“We don’t need to worry about them,” Colette said. “They never even place in the competition. They just like walking around and serving themselves—I mean, their baked goods—to the willing men.”
“Holly’s been working on perfecting her recipe,” I said, “so they may have a chance at winning this year.”
“What’s the recipe?” B’linda asked.
Sasha tapped the list. “A tart. How fitting.”
“Well, Lowry swears by this donut recipe,” B’linda said. “We should get started. Who’s the fastest mixer?”
Ivy raised her hand. “That’s what a sports family does to you. Makes you fast at everything.” She faced me. “Does Marley play any sports?”
“She’s learning to ride a unicorn,” I said, unsure if that counted. “Apparently, my mother was an excellent rider.”
“How nice,” Ivy said, and I could tell by her reaction that she didn’t consider it a real sport.
“She also plays music,” I said. “She’s taking lessons and the teacher says she’s a natural.” Oh no, I was bragging about my child to other mothers. What was this group doing to me?
“My Liliput was playing years ahead of her age,” Sasha said. “Some have even referred to her as a prodigy.”
“Some like her grandparents?” Colette asked smugly. “I don’t think family members count.”
Sasha glared at the statuesque fairy.
“Now remember, Puffs,” B’linda said, “the appearance of the entry is just as critical as the taste. They’re worth equal points, so we need to make these donuts eye-catching as well as mouth-watering.”
“I’m hungry already,” I said.
“You wouldn’t actually eat one, would you?” Sasha gaped at me.
I glanced around the kitchen. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“The calories,” Colette whispered. “Eat one and you’d have to forgo food for the next two days.”
“We have magic,” I said brightly. “Can’t we make them zero calories?” I was the only who laughed.
“We’re not thin because we eat like trolls,” Sasha said haughtily.
“I’m basically on a liquid diet,” B’linda said. At least that made sense for a vampire.
“I like food,” I said, and immediately felt ridiculous for my need to declare it to this group.
“Yes,” Colette said, giving me the once-over. “I can tell.”
I stopped talking at that point, and pitched in with the recipe wherever I was needed. I had to give them credit—they worked like a well-oiled machine. I felt redundant at times, looking at them blankly until someone gave me a task to do. For a magical recipe, there was still a lot of work involved.
“What do we get if we win?” I asked, using my wand to place sparkles on the cooling donuts. I used a spell where the sparkles constantly changed color. It was pretty cool, if I do say so myself.
“Get?” B’linda repeated. Her heels clicked across the floor as she came to stand beside me. “Accolades, Ember. We get to let everyone know that, once again, the Power Puffs are the best.”
“You want to be the best, don’t you?” Colette asked. “I mean, you’re a Rose. Your DNA demands it.”
I wasn’t convinced of that. My Hawthorne DNA was pretty strong, and it seemed to encourage me to put my feet up and eat a donut. “How do we keep these fresh for the competition?”
“Magic,” Sasha said. “A simple preservation spell keeps them fresh for a couple of days. Ivy can manage it, unless you’d like to do the honors.”
“I’ll handle it,” Ivy said, before I could respond. “We don’t want to risk anything going wrong.”
“We’ll meet in the parking lot bright and early on Sunday at eight so we can arrive at the competition tent together,” B’linda said. “No kids and don’t stop for coffee.” She directed that comment to me. “No one can be tardy or it ruins our look of a united front.”
I’d have to arrange for Marley to be brought to the carnival later that day. Hopefully, Florian planned to come back for another tour.
“And everyone wears pink,” Sasha added.
Pink? Inwardly, I groaned. “What if we don’t have anything pink?”
“You have a wand, don’t you?” B’linda asked crisply.
“Any particular shade of pink?” I asked. “Maybe the color of a baboon’s butt?” No one laughed.
Colette looked down her narrow nose at me. “Just pink.”
I saluted her. “Aye, aye, Captain Barbie.” Unsur
prisingly, Captain Barbie was not amused.
9
Marley and I returned to the carnival the next day, so that she could enjoy more of the games and activities, and I could hunt for clues regarding Madame Bovary’s death. The sheriff seemed to be a few steps behind me because he mentioned he’d be speaking with Jade Pepper today.
“Mom, look at this! Can we try it?” Marley tugged my arm toward the ring toss stall. Silver and gold unicorn horns covered a low table in the middle.
A pixie fluttered over to us. Her yellow wings moved so quickly, they were practically invisible. “Only three bronze coins for your chance to win a prize.”
Marley hopped from foot to foot. “One try, please?”
I fished a few coins from my handbag and placed them on the counter. The pixie promptly handed Marley a glowing ring. Her eyes grew round.
“Is this a halo?” Marley seemed afraid to touch it.
The pixie scoffed. “What else would we use?”
“Just out of curiosity,” I began, “where do you get all these horns and halos?”
“Fine, I’ll give the disclaimer.” The pixie gave an exasperated sigh. “No unicorns or angels were harmed in the making of this game.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question,” I said.
Marley glared at me. “Mom, I’m trying to focus!”
“The smaller the horn, the better the prize,” the pixie declared.
“That’s not usually how it works,” I mumbled.
The pixie gave a knowing look. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Do you even know what you want to win?” I asked Marley. In my experience, carnival prizes were nothing more than dust magnets and landfill fodder.
Marley pointed to a fairy doll hanging from the rafters. “The one in the purple dress and wings.”
I looked at her askance. “Since when are you interested in dolls?”
“Oh, she’ll love this one,” the pixie said. “Watch.” The pixie unhooked the fairy doll and the purple wings immediately began to flap, keeping her airborne.
“That is…actually kind of cool,” I admitted.
Magic & Madness Page 8
