I closed my eyes and chucked softly as my heart swelled. “Same.”
The sirens began to fade, their lights growing dimmer, when Win whispered against my cheek, “Ps. Mellie says thank you.”
I popped my eyes back open and looked around to see where she was, but he shook his head. “She’s crossed, Dove.” Settling back into the seat, he tucked me beside him. “Now, Gooch, my man. Home it is.”
He smiled into the rearview mirror, his eyes glittering in the passing streetlights, his grin broad. “Home it is, sir.”
I closed my eyes again, reveling in the warmth of Win near me, but then I forced my eyes back open when I realized something I’d totally forgotten. I leaned forward, a little weak, a little seasick, and stuck my hand under Gooch’s nose.
“Gooch. It’s sure a pleasure to meet you. I’m Stephania Cartwright, but you can just call me Stevie.”
His eyes widened when he made the connection between Win’s “friend” on the phone and the woman in his backseat.
“You mean…?”
“Indeed, my good man. The one and only,” Win confirmed with a warm smile, dropping a kiss on my lips. “The one and only.”
Epilogue
Two and a half weeks later…
Win stood at the bottom of our staircase in a navy-blue suit with a steel-gray shirt and red tie, immaculate and devastatingly handsome. “Aren’t you the loveliest creature to ever walk the Earth, Dove,” he said, smiling at me.
I curtsied as I made my way down the rest of the stairs, my flirty pink floral dress swishing around my knees. I tucked my freshly dyed and trimmed hair behind my ears and smiled. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He held out his hand to me when I reached the bottom step and twirled me around and under his arm before brushing a kiss across my cheek.
“Oh, Win,” I breathed as I took his hand and followed him into our living room to stand by the fireplace. “What have you done?”
Soft music played (Rosemary Clooney, I think), candles burned on a table for two covered in an expensive white linen tablecloth that likely cost a fortune, where two silver-dome-covered plates sat on either end. Two wine glasses sparkled next to a bottle of Chianti and twinkling lights were draped across the furniture and walls while a roaring fire danced in the fireplace.
He held out his hand to me and smiled his devilishly handsome smile, escorting me to the table he’d placed by the fireplace. “I thought it was time you had a proper meal, Dove, one that isn’t gray and made of entrails.”
I giggled. “It’s not made of entrails, silly. It’s pig snout and chicken livers.”
He lifted a cocky eyebrow and mock shuddered. “That is quite vile, Stephania. You’ll spoil our appetites.”
“You mean worse than your foie gras? You know, goose liver?” I countered, wrinkling my nose in distaste.
He chuckled deep and low. “I thought it was time I wooed you properly, and I simply can’t do that with gray meat made of pig snout and chicken livers.”
I pointed a pale pink manicured finger at the dome cover. “Did you cook whatever’s under there yourself?”
“With a little help from my man Belfry, indeed, I did.”
I rubbed my hands together and looked up into his sparkling eyes, so much clearer now since he’d begun to mend.
When we’d come back from Seattle, Nurse Gloria had been waiting for us—and wow, had that been a conversation. But you know what? I let Win do all the talking, seeing as that was his specialty and all—wink-wink.
Fortunately, our escapade had taken Win’s grumpies and turned them into a much happier man. This little adventure had given him meaning and that had helped him begin to heal much more rapidly.
“I can’t wait to see what it is.”
“So shall we consider this our first date?” He pulled out my chair and swept his hand in the air, gallantly motioning for me to sit.
I sat down and tilted my head in thoughtfulness. “A date, huh? I thought we were going to put all future involvement of that nature on the back burner until you were totally well?”
He looked at me for a long time, his eyes warm. Then he reached out and ran his knuckles down the side of my face. “I think the time for back burners has passed, Dove. We’ve spent a great deal of time in two different worlds, literally, but after seeing you on that slab, even though logically I knew you—or should I say, the essence of you—were on Plane Limbo, I didn’t fancy it much. I was made very aware, there truly is so little time to waste.” His deep voice, husky and confident, settled in my soul. “So tell me, Dove, do I have your consent?”
I batted my false eyelashes at him. “To woo me?”
He winked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Indeed. A right and proper wooing, if you agree.”
I made a fuss of pretending I was thinking about it. “What kind of wooing are we talking here, International Man of Mystery? Flowers-and-candy wooing? Poems-and-love-songs wooing? Or Twinkies-and-coffee wooing? I do have standards, you know.”
He laughed, letting his head fall back on his shoulders, his freshly trimmed hair, which he’d opted to keep a little longer than he’d told me he once wore it, gleamed at its inky-black finest in the firelight.
“Ah, Dove. You do delight.”
I smiled up at him and squeezed his hand, attempting to be serious. “So by wooing, you mean dating, right?”
“I do. Of course, we know a great deal about each other, but the things we discovered were all under extraordinary circumstances. We need to deal with the day-to-day things, the mundane events that make up everyone’s lives as a couple.”
I fought the butterflies in my stomach when he said the word “couple,” and the blush on my cheeks.
“And while we’re doing this dating, are we still running Madam Zoltar’s? Are you still living here in the house? What does our future look like to you?”
“As long as you’re willing, I’d like nothing more than to continue with Madame Zoltar’s. Nothing brings me greater satisfaction than helping people. Think of the people we can help, now that we know I can still hear ghosts.”
I, on the other hand, hadn’t seen a ghost since Mellie Carter that night at the morgue, and it stung a little.
“I’m a little sad I’m not seeing ghosts anymore, but I guess I was afforded that ability because I was upstairs. It’s the only explanation I can come up with. Anyway, let’s talk about the house. It is yours, Win.”
“No, Stephania, it’s yours. Surely you haven’t forgotten the agreement we made so long ago?”
“But you were dead.”
He reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring some into each glass. “And now I’m not, but it’s still your home, now ours, if someday you so wish. And might I remind you, we have enough money that, if I choose to, I could buy my own home. However, I do not. So as to the house, for the moment, I have a plan I hope you’ll agree to.”
Win had balked at the idea of anyone finding out he was living in the house with me, and while I loved his old-fashioned values, it was his house, too. In fact, it was technically his house period. He’d poured a lot of love and carefully chosen items into it, but he hated that I felt that way.
Still, I was happy to hear he wanted to continue with business as usual. I was also happy he was glad to still be hearing ghosts. He realized his spying days were over, but I hadn’t missed that gleam in his eye while he actively participated in car chases and body hunting. Helping a ghost from time to time would keep his mind, and his love of a mission of any kind, active and engaged.
“Yes to Madam Zoltar’s, and a plan about the house? I’m afraid. The last time you had a plan, we got a woodfire pizza oven I almost never use. So, if you’re thinking of putting in our own mud bath, I vote no.”
He barked a laugh, his white teeth flashing. “No mud bath, but certainly a worthy idea, and one to set aside for a rainy day. However,” he drawled. “I was thinking more along the lines of turning the shed into a guesthouse for the moment. Before
you protest, hear me out. I would never be party to sullying your fine reputation, Dove, and I think we all know how Eb Falls loves to gad about when it comes to a budding romance. I wish to ‘date,’ you as you call it, the proper way, which involves treating this as though I’ve just reentered your life, and we’ve suddenly discovered we have feelings for one another. In keeping the tongues in town from wagging, a guesthouse will certainly take care of that, don’t you agree?”
I gave that a moment’s thought. If he were anyone else, I’d say he was stalling about jumping into this with both feet, but I knew Win, and I agreed with him. I wanted us to get to know one another in all ways—all the earthly ways, that is.
I wanted to make sure we’d vibe on all the necessary levels, and that we agreed on all the things we never thought we’d ever have to talk about because we could never physically be together.
Still, I sighed. What would it be like not to have him near every day? Life is ever changing, isn’t it? Nothing stays the same.
Nonetheless, his chivalry touched me. “I say it’s totally unnecessary because I don’t care what people say, Win. You must know that about me by now. When it comes to my ghosts, some people think I’m crazy as it is. But I love that you want to protect my reputation while we learn more about each other.”
He grinned, the grin that made my heart skip a beat. “Then it’s settled. Enzo and his boys will be here in the morning to begin.”
My head fell back on my shoulders as I laughed. It was just like Win to be ahead of the curve. “I should have known.”
“It will be lovely, and in the future, a place to house guests without disturbing our flow.”
The word us made the butterflies in my stomach return, but I tried to stay present and in the moment. “Any news on Gooch and Sheila?”
Win pulled my linen napkin from its ring and put it on my lap. “You mean aside from the emotional scars we left him with, after he realized the person I’d been talking to ‘on the phone’ was also the reason for that wild goose chase with him at the helm?”
I winced. We’d done our best to explain, but it was a choppy story at the very least, with plenty of holes. Of course, he’d seen the news, watched as Jerry, Jack and Louise Vera were all arrested for the murder of GG, a.k.a. Granny, and the illegal selling of over two hundred bodies to research companies all around the world. Ritchie and Donald were arrested, too.
Certainly, Gooch saw the writing on the wall. Between the funeral home bust and our own caper that night, there was no denying we’d been a part of discovering the crimes Vera Brothers had committed, but he didn’t balk. Not even when every report on the news kept mentioning how the suspects in the crime babbled on and on about a walking dead woman and a man with an ugly Christmas sweater who’d beaten them up.
Thankfully, if there was a trace of us left behind, the police didn’t question it. I mean, Win had bled all over the floor, but we couldn’t afford to be linked to Vera Brothers because of Balthazar’s prior criminal record—even though the criminals kept referring to the putrid purple and green purse the police had found as proof the kooky guy existed.
No one seemed to care, and I prayed it stayed that way.
In all of this, we were very surprised Artie from the morgue didn’t speak up—in fact, we held our breath, waiting to see if he would. But he didn’t, or hadn’t as of yet. Maybe because he didn’t want to be connected in any way to Egan and his participation in something so horrible.
Though, during the course of this investigation, we wondered if Egan had ever talked to Artie and if he had, we wondered if he’d told him the story about his encounter with the blind guy and the practical joke. If Artie had told him about Win, surely he must have realized the blind man in the morgue and the man in the passenger seat of the Ford Fiesta were one in the same?
Speaking of cars, Win had sent someone to collect my car, someone I didn’t ask any questions about. But it was safely back in the driveway like none of this had ever happened.
As to why they’d killed GG? The answer was simple. First, that those two goons found me, collapsed by my car, likely seconds after it happened, had been nothing but dumb luck on their part. There was even an actual interview where they attempted to justify their actions by declaring they’d checked for my heartbeat and pulse. Naturally, because there was no body, the investigating detectives, when asked where the dead body story came from, simply scratched their heads and changed the subject.
I wondered why no one had bothered to look at my identification in my purse, but then, those two hadn’t been the brightest. I’d just chalk it up to more dumb luck and leave it at that.
Anyway, Louisa had been with Ritchie and Donald that day, they’d dropped her off up the block to do some shopping. When she met them back at their car, oddly, mere seconds after they’d stuffed me in the trunk all the while joking about selling my body parts, she’d run into a frantic GG.
GG had been returning from the alleyway after throwing away her trash when she saw them load my limp body into the trunk and overheard everything that had transpired—which meant, something had to be done about GG.
GG, distraught, ran right into Louisa, and essentially directly into the hands of her killer. Louisa offered to take GG back inside the store and call the police where she’d eliminated the problem and summoned Donald and Ritchie to take her body away.
When Win entered the store a few hours later, Louisa had been busy cleaning up the crime scene. Apparently, GG had put up quite a fight.
We had a lot of holes to fill and receipts to show if someone really looked for them. But I kept my fingers crossed no one would.
Alas, so far, all was quiet.
Based on all the broadcasts on the news and the exploitation of Malcolm Royce’s affair with her, we’d found out why Mellie had a hole in her chest. She’d had a rare heart disease, discovered by Egan, called Eisenmenger Syndrome. Selling a heart for research with a condition so rare was very valuable to researchers, and Egan knew it.
It still made my skin crawl to think about what they’d done.
Grabbing my glass of wine, I sipped it and sighed. “Poor Gooch, huh? Gosh, am I ever glad he was in a bit of shock afterward. I think it helped sell our story.”
We were lucky enough that, Gooch being Gooch, he didn’t ask too many questions. I attribute that to him knowing our situation was out of the ordinary, incredibly so, but also realizing our hearts were in the right place.
Somehow, we’d managed to keep our involvement a secret, and we’d urged him, for the benefit of his future, to let sleeping dogs lie.
But if someone else cropped up, like Susan, the young woman from the vintage clothing store, the investigators on the case would have ample reason to probe deeper because if nothing else, she’d corroborate the Vera’s story.
Either way, the right people were going to jail for a long time. That’s what mattered in the end.
“You and me both,” Win said with a chuckle as he dropped a kiss on my nose and took his seat on the other side of the table.
“How is he otherwise? More importantly, how is Sheila? She had another treatment this week, didn’t she?”
Win smiled at me, his eyes going even softer. “She is quite lovely, I hear. She’s getting through her second round of treatments like the warrior she is, and Gooch has applied to college.”
My heart flooded with immense joy for Gooch. He deserved this. “You do know you’re responsible for that, don’t you?”
“I know no such thing. It was a cumulative effort, Dove. And all that really matters is everyone is well and safe in our little world. That will always be all that matters.”
Win had made it his mission to find out the cost of Sheila’s treatments as well as what a four-year degree in software engineering would average. Then he’d added in the price of the burger, snacks and drinks Gooch had spotted him, and a healthy payment for his driving services, and living expenses for both he and his mother, then promptly opened an account
in Gooch’s name. He sent him the account information via text with a simple “thank you for everything, good man.”
To say Gooch was grateful is a small word, compared to actually seeing him when he came to thank Win, with his mother Sheila in tow. He’d launched himself at Win, throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him for a long time.
Win had clearly been quite uncomfortable, and I hadn’t made it any better by hugging them both and pinching Win’s cheeks.
We’d invited them to stay for dinner, and they’d accepted, giving us a chance to sit in an informal setting and just enjoy each other’s company. We’d shared three bottles of some delicious wine, an amazing rack of lamb with fresh mint sauce (Win’s idea of informal), roasted new potatoes, balsamic-glazed Brussels sprouts and, most of all, laughter.
So much laughter.
“They’re cooking us dinner next week, by the way. Gooch is making goulash. He said he hopes that’s fancy enough for you.”
Win smirked at me, his blue eyes glittering. “Whatever Gooch makes is fine by me. Now, shall we eat, Dove? Surely you’re curious to see what I’ve made?”
“I’m afraid to see what you’ve made. Now that you’re here, and you can educate my palette, I’m worried there’s going to be some fear-factor foods involved.”
“Bah, Dove. Have some faith in me,” he coaxed with a grin. “Let’s lift the tops on three, yes?”
I placed my fingers over the silver dome and nodded. “On three.”
“One—two—three,” he said with a grin.
We yanked the tops off together, the smell wafting upward and making my mouth water. What was under the silver dome, on our fine China, no less?
A juicy cheeseburger, piled high with lettuce and crispy onion strings, just the way I liked it.
I grinned at him, my heart clenching in my chest. “Burgers!”
“Made from angus beef and brisket I had the butcher grind up especially for this occasion.”
“And with everything I love on a burger, too. You remembered, or did Belfry tell you?”
Witches Get Stitches Page 20