“It was a mistake to let him move in when you weren’t married,” her father said, picking up the baton and carrying on.
Libbie glanced over at the kitchen table where her father sat in judgment.
“I’m glad I didn’t marry him,” Libbie said. It would’ve been a lot harder to untangle their intertwined lives if she’d made it official.
“I don’t know why you can’t find a decent man like your sister did,” her father said. “It’s not like you’re damaged goods.”
Libbie bristled. “I’m not ‘goods’ of any kind.”
Her mother examined her closely. “You’re very combative today. What’s gotten into you?”
Defending herself from criticism was combative? The inner workings of her mother’s mind never ceased to amaze her.
“Mom, can we play corn hole?” Josh asked, appearing in the family room. She had no doubt that her son had overheard the conversation and was making an effort to rescue her. It both impressed her and pained her. He was still a kid. He shouldn’t have to worry about saving his mother from uncomfortable situations, especially from members of their own family.
“You should ask Emily,” her father said. “She has a better arm.”
“It’s not the World Series, Pop-Pop,” Josh said. “It’s corn hole.”
Libbie coughed to smother a laugh. “I’d love to play, honey. I’ll be right there.”
Josh cut through the living room to the patio door, and Ryan rushed after him. “I want to play,” the younger boy said. Despite having an older brother of his own, Ryan seemed enamored of his cousin.
Josh waited for him at the back door. “You can be on my team.”
Ryan looked ready to burst from delight. Libbie was heartened to see how well the cousins got along, despite her parents’ efforts to pit them against each other. She hoped they never succumbed to the manufactured rivalry.
“What about you, Court?” Libbie asked.
Her daughter glanced up from her place on the couch where her nose was buried in her phone. “Can I finish this first?”
“Sure,” Libbie said.
“You let them spend too much time on devices,” her mother complained.
“She’s drawing,” Libbie said. “It’s not like she’s playing hours of video games.”
“How can she be drawing? It’s a phone.”
Courtney held up the phone and showed them the screen. “It’s a drawing app. I use my finger.”
“That’s not drawing,” her father scoffed. “That’s tracing.”
To her credit, Courtney simply smiled. “I’m not tracing anything, Pop-Pop. I layer in files. Come and see.”
Her father’s brow furrowed. “That’s okay. I don’t need to see it.”
“Emily’s boys are outside all the time,” her mother said. “Fresh air and exercise, that’s what’s important.” She gave Courtney a pointed look. “If you want to stay thin, you’ll spend less time in an ice cream shop and on your phone, and more time doing physical activities like your cousins.”
Libbie’s cheek began to pulse. “Please don’t give my daughter body image issues. She’s only thirteen.” She marched to the patio door and realized that Courtney was behind her.
“I’ll play, too,” she said quietly, and Libbie knew her daughter didn’t want to be left alone with her grandparents and endure another round of criticism. Smart girl.
Emily was outside setting up the game. She divided the bean bags and moved to the side. “Are you playing?”
“Let the kids go first since all four of them are out here.”
The sisters stood together and spoke softly while the kids played. “Thanks for rearranging the day,” Libbie said. The change had Emily’s fingerprints all over it.
“A family get-together means all of us,” Emily said. “Besides, the boys don’t like it when it’s just them.”
“Can’t say I blame them.”
“I’m sorry about Chris. Let me know if you need any financial help.”
“I’m fine,” Libbie said quickly. She didn’t want to give her family another reason to draw comparisons and put Libbie in a negative light.
“If it’s any consolation, I never thought he’d do anything like that. If anything, I expected him to cheat.”
Libbie stiffened. “Gee, thanks.” She was beginning to regret sharing the truth with her family. She figured they’d hear about it through a third party eventually, though, and that would make it worse.
Emily grew flustered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s fine,” Libbie said. She was always the first to try to smooth things over. It was easier that way, although she was starting to recognize when to let things slide and when to take a stand.
“What are you going to do about the money? Do you think he’ll pay you back?”
Libbie laughed. “Uh, no. I very much doubt it.”
“Do you have any idea what he spent it on?” she asked.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward, not back.”
Emily eyed her with interest. “You sound pretty good, Lib. I thought you might not even come today. That maybe you’d cancel at the last minute and feign bad allergies.”
Libbie was definitely guilty of that move in the past. “I feel pretty good, Em, all things considered. I’m excited about my catering business, and it’s nice to have complete control of the remote.”
Emily licked her lips, seemingly distrustful of her sister’s response. “Aren’t you scared? I mean, wouldn’t it be better to just get a job?”
“Now you sound like Mom and Dad.”
Emily ducked her head slightly. “God, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, I’ll certainly pass your name along to anyone I know in need of a caterer.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
They watched their kids finish a round of corn hole, and Libbie found herself enjoying the moment. She was thrilled that her parents had opted not to cook burgers and hot dogs today, so Libbie didn’t worry about being sequestered at the grill.
They ate outside at the round table, and Libbie was grateful for the huge umbrella to protect herself from the sun. It was hot and humid today, and her clothes had begun to stick to her skin.
After dinner, Ryan begged for a round of the card game Uno, so Libbie and Emily cleared away the paper plates to make room. While in the kitchen, Libbie retrieved the tray she’d placed in the refrigerator upon arrival.
“From what I hear, Elizabeth, you’ve been spending time with everyone in town lately.” Libbie’s mother didn’t bother to glance up from her Uno cards.
“I’ve been working,” Libbie said. “They’re not social calls.” She held up a tray of food. “I brought a few mini-desserts I’ve been practicing. I’d like your feedback, if you don’t mind.” She placed the tray on the table and removed the lid.
“So you’ve brought us scraps?” her mother asked, wrinkling her nose.
Libbie frowned. “No. They’re perfectly good. Think of them as tasters.”
Emily leaned over to inspect the offerings. “I’ll dig in.”
“Me, too,” Ryan said.
“Has Mrs. Quincy hired you for her Labor Day party yet?” her father asked.
“Not yet, but I’m getting closer to that possibility.”
He looked at her skeptically. “That’s a big deal. Are you sure you can handle it?”
Libbie bit her tongue, resisting the urge to offer a snarky reply. No good would come from it. “Yes, Dad. I’m positive I can handle it.”
“You don’t want to screw up a job like that,” he continued. He placed a green ‘7’ on the top of the pile. “You’ll torpedo your business before it even gets off the ground.”
“What makes you think I’ll screw it up?” she asked. “I’ve held down a regular job for years. I’m raising two wonderful kids.”
“You don’t have a job now, do you?” her father pressed.
“Or a relationship,” her mo
ther added.
Libbie wanted to scream and hurl the tray of desserts at them. Instead, she kept her calm and said, “I do a damn good job, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
Her mother cut her a sideways glance. “Well, someone’s been listening to her friend’s self-help videos. This is Kate’s influence.”
“No, Mom. This is me.”
Emily smiled at her sister. “I think what you’re doing is great, and Mrs. Quincy will be lucky to hire you.”
“Thanks, Em.” Libbie warmed inside, grateful for her sister’s support. So often it seemed their parents pitted them against each other. It was nice to know the wedge wasn’t as wide as she feared.
Her mother tossed another card on the pile. “Do you think you’ll have any sway with the guest list?”
Libbie balked. “Excuse me?”
Her mother spared her a glance. “I’ve always wanted to go to one of her parties. They’re supposed to be fabulous.”
“Mom, I’d be the caterer. I won’t have any say over the guest list. Besides, you always host your own Labor Day party.”
“I’ll be there if she gets the job,” Courtney said. “I’m going to help out.”
Her mother’s brow shot up. “You’d make your children wait on people we know?”
“She waits on people at Cone Hut,” Libbie pointed out.
“Yes, I know.” Libbie could tell from her mother’s tone that she found that distasteful as well.
“I want to do it,” Courtney said. “Mom’s paying me, plus I want to help.”
“I’m helping, too,” Josh said. “I already asked my boss not to put me on the Labor Day schedule, just in case.”
Libbie wanted to kiss her children. Truthfully, they hadn’t discussed the Labor Day party, but just knowing that her kids would throw their weight behind her heartened her.
“If you need extra adult hands, I could help,” Emily offered.
Libbie gaped at her sister. “Seriously? You’d do that?”
“Of course. The rest of the family could come here, and I’d go with you. Act as your sous chef or server. Whatever you need.”
Given the size of Mrs. Quincy’s party, there was a distinct possibility she’d need to take Emily up on her offer. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Well, I hope you don’t get the job in that case, or my own party will be ruined,” her mother said.
Libbie ignored her. They played another round of Uno, followed by another round of corn hole before calling it a night.
By the time they left the house, Libbie felt drained. Her parents had a way of exhausting her store of emotional energy.
“I’m sorry they suck,” Josh said.
Once in the car, Libbie turned to smile at her son. “But you don’t, and that’s all I care about.”
“I love you, Mom,” Courtney said from her place in the backseat.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
Libbie dragged herself into the house and let out the dog, while Courtney attended to Eliza. Libbie decided to spend the remainder of the evening leafing through the books she’d ordered and try to learn more about her witchy abilities.
The kids disappeared upstairs, and Libbie settled on the couch with the books. She wanted to research the ingredients she’d used so far and see what the ‘magic’ books had to say about them. She was surprised when she opened Inga’s book to find the first page missing, the one with the recipe for her own cocktail. Her fingers ran along the crease and she felt the jagged edges where the page had been torn.
She texted the kids, knowing each of them probably had a phone in hand right now. Did one of you rip out a page in the book Inga left to me? The one with the cocktail recipes.
No, I haven’t touched it. Courtney was the first to respond, quickly followed by Josh.
Libbie stared at the book. Maybe it was part of the magic. Once the recipe was no longer needed, it disappeared, although that didn’t explain the perforation.
Libbie set the book aside and started flipping through the pages of the other books. They provided in-depth information on the mythology behind the plants and the powers associated with them. Aster amellus was meant to drive away serpents. Begonias had the potential to grant psychic ability, but they were poisonous, so not recommended. The book then offered non-poisonous alternatives. Libbie found the information fascinating and didn’t want to stop reading, even when her number of yawns increased and her eyes began to burn.
That night, she dreamed of dancing plants that reminded her of the cavorting broomsticks from the Mickey Mouse movie Fantasia. Acacia. Adonis. Aster. Zinnia. Potentilla. They bloomed in a variety of brilliant colors, and Libbie felt more connected to the earth than if she’d been physically sitting in the garden. It occurred to her, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, that the Mickey Mouse scene was about a sorcerer’s apprentice. The comparison seemed apt. Except she was nobody’s apprentice.
She was Elizabeth Stark, and she was her own witch.
Chapter Sixteen
The day of Ethan’s party, Libbie was as excited as if the party were her own. She’d been trying not to think about him, especially in light of the fact that she’d turned down his offer for dinner. She hoped she could get through the party with her resolve intact, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. Ethan Townsend was more tempting than her crab puffs.
He greeted her at the door, looking incredibly handsome in casual blue shorts and a hot pink Polo shirt. “Punctual as always.”
“Can’t let down my boss. He’s got a real temper if you displease him,” she teased. Of course, Ethan seemed like the most laidback guy in the world. It was hard to believe he was a lawyer.
He stood aside to let her pass. “You know where you’re going. Do you need help unloading the car?”
“I can take care of it, thanks.” She had two friends of Josh’s working with her today as servers, but they weren’t due to arrive until right before the guests.
“I don’t mind.” He held up his hands. “Idle hands and all that.”
“You’re about to throw a party for your clients. You shouldn’t be idle. Go fluff your pillows or something.”
He laughed. “They’ve been fluffed. The bar is ready. The view is viewable.” He shrugged. “You’re all I need now.”
Libbie’s throat tightened at his words. She knew he didn’t mean them the way they sounded, but still. She made her way into the kitchen and kept her business hat on the whole time. This job was important to her. Serena had already reported her feedback to Mrs. Quincy, so she knew that was one five-star review under her belt. She needed this to go well. She couldn’t allow her attraction to Ethan to distract her.
To his credit, he left her alone once the guests arrived. As she worked, she stole glances at him, noting how he interacted with his clients and their spouses. He was a natural with people. Smiling, laughing, shaking hands. Libbie felt her resistance fading the longer she watched him. He radiated positive energy and Libbie wanted to stand close to him and absorb it.
Aside from a minor mishap with a dish of bacon burger bites, the event ran smoothly. Libbie was relieved when the final guest made his exit. This particular client seemed in danger of sleeping on the sofa if he didn’t leave soon. It was late, and Libbie had long since sent the servers home.
Ethan found her in the kitchen packing up. “Wow. What an amazing job you did. I can’t thank you enough.”
“No, thank you. I really needed this job, and I appreciate you taking a chance on me.”
He leaned on the island and grinned at her. “No risk. No reward.”
His words resonated with Libbie. Hadn’t she found that to be true as well?
“Before I forget, I made something for you.” She produced a small jar from her cooler.
He admired the gift. “What is it?”
“A cocktail. You pour it over ice, and it’s ready. You might want to drink it another night, though. I think you’ve probably had your fill of booze
tonight.”
“You’re not wrong.” He scrutinized the contents. “Is it...witchy?”
Libbie couldn’t resist a proud smile. “I infused it with amaranthus, which protects against cooking burns and household accidents.”
He chuckled. “What are you trying to say? I’m a klutz?”
“Not at all, but I noticed the last time I was here that you had a burn mark from the oven on the side of your wrist. I created a recipe that should provide a little protection in the kitchen. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”
He reached for the jar, his fingers brushing against hers, and Libbie felt a jolt of energy shoot through her.
“Now this doesn’t mean I can take a flamethrower to the oven and nothing will happen, right?”
“Please, don’t do that.”
His hand closed over hers as he removed the jar from her grasp. “Thank you, Libbie.”
With their eyes locked and the memory of his touch fresh in her mind, her whole body felt electrified. Still, she refused to give in to temptation. Technically, she was on the clock as his caterer. Kissing him right now would not be a good idea.
“Good night, Ethan. Thank you again.” It took all her self-control to walk out the door without throwing herself into his arms, but she did it. She arrived home and took a cool shower before crawling into bed and succumbing to a long night of scandalous dreams.
Summer wore on, and the days seemed to run into each other. Libbie spent as much time learning about the magical properties of plants as she did perfecting recipes for her catering business. Instead of feeling tired and anxious, she was energized and optimistic. She’d received a few more inquiries and had booked a fiftieth birthday party for mid-September. It wouldn’t yield the benefits of Mrs. Quincy’s Labor Day party, but any event was good news as far as Libbie was concerned.
Frankie Smith hadn’t been able to meet with her until close to the date of the party, so Libbie found herself scrambling afterward to get everything organized in time.
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