by Rose Pressey
The room grew hotter as I wiped my forehead.
“Nonsense. It looks as if you have this potion stuff totally under control. It’s time for me to leave. I know you’re nervous, and I’m sorry to take off again, but you’ll be fine. You’ve got Mary Jane to help you… and now Tom.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
If she wiggled them any more they’d bounce right off her face. I was giving her a hard time about this. I needed to put on my big girl panties again and stop acting like a child. I could handle this. I’d done it once. What was one more time?
I took in a deep breath and let it out. “It’s okay, Grandma. I knew you were just here for a visit. The café is my responsibility now.”
“You have a big dilemma now, don’t you?” she asked.
“What do you mean? The potion?” I asked while stacking a couple dirty plates and setting them to the side of the table.
“Well… you’ve got that hunk of a man, Rory. Then you have gorgeous and sexy Tom right here under your nose all day.” She made a fanning motion with her hand.
“It’s not so tough. I’m dating Rory and we’re very happy,” I said in a lowered voice so Tom wouldn’t overhear.
I’d never been a good liar, not that I was lying about being happy with Rory because we were happy. But having Tom in my kitchen every day would be tough and she could probably see right through my fib when I said it wouldn’t be.
“I couldn’t choose between the two of them if I were you.” She patted my hand.
“It’s not a decision I have to make.”
“Oh good, I like the way you think, take both of them.” She pointed at me with her crimson-red fingernail.
“No, no, no,” I said, waving my hands. “I’m not taking both. I have Rory.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Yeah, whatever was right.
Her smile grew while staring at me.
I snorted. “So, anyway… you’ll call me when you can?”
“I’ll certainly try, but I’m not sure how great the phone service is and how well the internet will work.”
“You’ll be cut off from the world.”
“Like I said, you’ll be in good hands with Tom and Mary Jane here.”
“I don’t want to hear that.”
She ignored my statement.
“Here’s my itinerary for the trip.” She pushed the paper across the table toward me. “Of course, you have the potions you need. Don’t worry about spilling any, they’ll replenish just like the spices. You’ll get new pages in the book soon instructing you on how to do the new spells.”
“New spells? Whoa.” I made a timeout signal. “You mean the potions are going to be an everyday thing now?”
“Well no, I didn’t say every day. But fairly often, yes. You’ll do great.” She patted my hand again.
I fanned myself with a fan. I needed to adjust the air conditioning in the café. “So, the pages will just pop up?”
“That’s how it works.” She nodded as she stood.
Grandma Imelda was so nonchalant about this. I guess after I’d performed the magic as long as she had, I’d be a little less uptight about it. At least I hoped that was the case.
“You’ll be careful, Grandma?” I asked as I stood, and then embraced her in a hug.
She squeezed me tightly, then patted me on the back. “I’ll be fine. I’m one tough cookie, remember?”
“The toughest I know.” I squeezed a little tighter.
She stepped back, then reached out and smoothed down my hair. “I said this before, but I’m so happy with what you’ve done with the café.”
I smiled so wide that my cheeks hurt. Making Grandma happy made me happy.
She continued, “You’ve always had a way of stepping in to help when I needed it the most.”
“Grandma, I’m going to miss you. I’ve gotten used to you being around the past couple weeks.”
“Oh, I’m going to miss you too. I’ve noticed the passion you put into each dish, especially when you’re baking. It comes out in the flavor. Your cherry pie is all I’ve heard about since I returned. I think it may be even better than mine.”
“Impossible,” I said with a chuckle. “Regardless of my anxiety issues, I am glad you brought me back home again. I’m enjoying it more than I ever imagined.”
I didn’t tell Grandma Imelda that I had thought she was crazy when she’d hit me with the whole magic business, but once again, she’d been right. Casting spells was in my blood and I couldn’t imagine not doing it.
Grandma Imelda glanced at her watch again. “You know, that’s why everyone loves your food so much. I knew you’d get the hang of it in no time. I know I kind of threw you into this.”
“Kind of?” I asked.
She chuckled. “Okay, I did, but sometimes it’s best if you just jump right into the deep end.”
I’d never been a strong swimmer. “Well, I’m glad you threw me in now.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Grandma shot me a teasing look.
“Now you’re sure your new beau is meeting you at the Louisville airport?” I asked.
“He’s there already, waiting with bells and whistles on.”
“I doubt they’ll let him take those bells and whistles on the plane.” I laughed.
She grabbed her big purse and tossed it on her shoulder, then strode toward the café’s entrance. When she reached the door, she turned and threw her hand up, then stepped outside. I found myself once again wanting to run after her and asking her not to leave.
Through the window I watched her hop in her little red roadster like a giddy teenager. After slipping on her signature rhinestone-encrusted sunglasses, she revved the engine, waved over her shoulder, then peeled off from the curb. The wind whipped the wisps of her white-coifed hair, and just like that she was gone.
Well, this was it. The big girl panties definitely needed to be on now. I was an adult. Perfectly capable of handing this new situation, I reminded myself. Time to suck it up. I could and would handle this. I’d been taking care of the café without any problems. Well, none since the first fiasco, but that was all behind me now. The new spell was a little potion for the food, for heaven’s sake. Easy peasy. I’d slip it in and everyone would be happy. I loved seeing my hometown happy. When everyone else was happy, I was happy. So how hard could adding a little liquid be?
Sure, the day Grandma Imelda had left me the café had changed my life forever, the day my life went from mundane to crazy wild. It would have been a huge change without the magic, but add spells and potions to the mix, and it had been almost more than my brain could handle. As weird as things were at Mystic Café, I didn’t miss my old boring life.
If someone would have asked me before this had happened, I would have said no way would I enjoy performing magic. But now… it was my life, my everything. I had to take the spells seriously, although sometimes I wondered what would happen if I just made up random gibberish. Things like bibbidi-bobbidi-boo, or abracadabra. Something told me the Organization wouldn’t find that nearly as amusing as I did.
Too bad magic wasn’t meant for helping me out of my problems. If I broke a heel on my shoe, I couldn’t wrinkle my nose and have a new pair of killer red stilettos. Nor could I replace my cell phone when I accidentally dropped it in the toilet. Believe me, I’d thought about being able to make someone spill their drink down the front of their shirt, or drop their pie on their pants. But like I said, the magic was for good only and I doubted the Organization would find my little acts of revenge good. They liked spells for health, love, and prosperity.
“What are you thinking about, good-looking?” Tom asked from over my shoulder.
I spun around to find him standing right behind me. Very close behind me. And did he ever smell good. A girl could easily get lost in his arms. Some girls. Just not me.
Chapter Twelve
“Grandma Imelda said that it’s time for the spell. The one she gives every year at this time. Apparentl
y, the entire town does this.”
He nodded with understanding. “Yes, I’m aware.”
“I guess I should get to it then, huh?” I took a deep breath and attempted to recover my calmness. Ha. Even I knew the word calm and I didn’t mix.
“I guess you should.” I noticed that Tom was struggling not to grin. He probably wanted burst out in laughter.
“Oh, I forgot to ask Grandma how long the spell-giving process takes place.”
“It’ll all be over in a day.” The grin still lingered.
Turning around and putting distance between us, I pushed through the door and made my way into the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed a couple new bottles of potions sitting on the island counter, not in the usual spot on the shelf. The potions I’d used yesterday were still up there on the wall.
“Where did those come from?” I asked, pointing to the bottles.
“I’m not sure,” Tom said. “Your grandmother must have left them.”
“I guess they’re the potions I need today.” Although I had assumed the ones on the shelf were the only potions I’d need. Before I did anything, I’d have to double-check the spell book.
I let out a deep breath and marched over to the Mystic Magic book, pulling the big thing down from the shelf.
“Here, let me help you.” Tom rushed over behind me.
Did he have to stand so close in order to help? Okay, I guess it was hard for him to move the book from across the room, but still, he could have given me time to run away from him. As I reached for the book and stumbled, Tom placed his hand on my back to steady me. I felt eyes on me so I turned around.
Mary Jane stood at the little window. Her face was practically smashed against the glass as she watched us with this sheepish smile on her face. I knew exactly what she was thinking. I was going to have to have a little talk with her. Tom acted as if he didn’t notice her as he placed the book on the counter and motioned for me to come over.
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid I’m going to bite?” he asked.
I snorted. “You can’t be serious. Of course not, but I’m perfectly capable of doing all of this on my own.”
“Of course you are. I’ll just go help Mary Jane and leave you to it.” He turned and walked toward the door.
Great. Now I felt guilty. But I couldn’t let it get to me. I had to continue my work as usual and not let Tom mess up my good vibe I had going. Things had been going great, and I didn’t intend on that changing now just because he was back in town. I reached for the potion bottles on the counter. It was as if they had been calling out to me, almost as if they knew it was their time to shine. But that was crazy. They were just bottles. There was no way I could pick up a vibe like that from them.
After gathering all of the ingredients, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work with preparing the food. I’d make several different recipes. That way, no matter what anyone ordered, the magic would be in it already. Apparently, I realized as I read over the spell, this was the type of magic that needed to set for a bit before the person consumed it. It wasn’t like the individual spells that I made up while the customer waited. When I checked the Mystic Magic book, the colors of the potions that I needed matched the ones on the counter, so I knew they had to be correct. Grandma Imelda must have forgotten to tell me about them.
I blew the stray hair out of my eyes and let out a deep breath. Now was the time to make the magic happen. Desserts needed to be prepared for the day, along with the other staples. The ordinary magic would be placed on hold.
The door squeaked and I whirled around. Yeah, I was on edge. My arm hit the potion bottles that teetered on the edge of the counter. They wobbled for a split second before I grabbed them and placed them upright again. Whew. That was a close one. The bottles filled back up if you dropped them, I’d learned that from experience. But how could the potions refill if I broke the bottles? I didn’t want to find that out the hard way.
“How about now? Do you need a hand now?” Tom asked as he poked his head through the cracked kitchen door.
Great. He’d just seen my ineptness in all its glory. If anyone ever needed help, it sure looked as if I did at that very moment. As much as I liked to handle everything by myself, I knew this was one instance when I finally had to admit that I needed the help. Not to mention he’d seen me almost destroy the potions.
I swallowed my pride and nodded. “As a matter of fact, I could use some help. How are you with making a cherry pie?”
“You tell me what to do. I follow directions well,” he said.
I snorted. “You could have fooled me.”
“Try me. Tell me what to do. Where do I start?”
I pointed across the room. “I have crust in the fridge. You can line the pie pan while I finish here.”
Now more than ever I needed to focus on the magic. I had to get this potion business right. My muscles were tense, as if I had a tightly wound coil running down my spine. Needless to say, it was hard to focus with such tension coursing through my body. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, then forced my lids open again.
“You look a little green. Like maybe you got a bad batch of something,” Tom said.
“I’ll be fine.” I waved off his concern.
“You will.” He smiled reassuringly.
The heat from the ovens must have been getting to me. I felt flush.
So many thoughts flooded my mind. Before today, a sort of ease had settled over me when I performed magic with the spices, but the apprehension had returned with the potions. Tom and I worked in silence. His presence made a soothing sensation and an excitement wash over me at the same time. Talk about mixed emotions. I should just be grateful that I didn’t have to do all of this alone.
As Tom started working on the pie, I caught myself several times watching his muscles flex as he used the rolling pin, back and forth with steady movement over the dough. He cast a glance over my way and caught me looking. He was the ideal sexiness in his smudge-covered apron.
I attempted a weak smile, then said, “How’s it going?”
“I’m ready to bake some pie.” He pointed at the waiting crust.
Wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t realize that Tom had moved dangerously close to me. Personal space. Personal space. I thought it, yet I didn’t say the words aloud. Like a big dummy, I just pointed around the room to the ingredients. Tom moved around the room, gathering his items. How in the heck had we ended up in this scenario? Tom Owenton baking in my kitchen. How bizarre was that?
After Tom added the cherry filling, he carried the pie over to me. I poured on the liquid. Sparks shot upward, almost reaching the ceiling. I stepped back. The fireworks show still took me by surprise sometimes. I never knew which way those sparks would fly.
Tom chuckled. “That just means you’re doing it right.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Performing the magic made me feel as if I was in a euphoric trance, sucked into the whirlwind of magic. The warmth of the kitchen had always been soothing, not to mention the comfort from the mouthwatering smells making me feel as if I was safe and at home. Whiffs of chocolate, mingled with cinnamon, sugar, and a hint of vanilla floated through the air.
I recited the words from the spell again. “All should be happy. All should be well. Chase your dreams and thank the spell.”
“You’ve really got those words down pat,” Tom said above the loud whistle of the wind.
The pie bubbled and sparked, growing faster as I murmured the words. The sound of magic in progress rippled through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls, floor, and the door. Above the island, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling rack swayed back and forth. As quickly as it started, the bubbling waned, settling to a simmer, then coming to a stop.
When the sparks had faded away, I let out a sigh of relief.
“You did good.” He smiled.
“Thanks.” I couldn’t help but blush.
“I’m going to put the pie in
the oven and get back out there.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
I nodded.
Tom placed the pie in the oven, then slipped back out front to help Mary Jane. Alone again in my kitchen. No more distractions.
Now back to my spells. I stirred, mixed, and prepared until the last thing needed was more of the potion. Sucking in a deep breath, I poured the liquid onto the food, all the while chanting the words under my breath. My voice grew louder and louder until the wind picked up again. I knew the magic was working. The wind whipped my hair and the pots hanging from the ceiling swayed in the wind. Surprisingly, this was one of my favorite parts about the magic. One last dose of the potion and the spell would be complete.
As I tilted the bottle to drop more liquid in, the swinging door leading into the kitchen squeaked open, pulling my concentration away. My hands shook and the bottle slipped forward causing almost half of the contents to fall into the food. I let out a little gasp. This was Grandma Imelda’s famous mashed potato recipe. And I’d used the last of the potatoes to make it, not to mention there was no time to make more, so this would have to do. Grandma had insisted that mashed potatoes made the best base for magic. Not to mention practically everyone in town ordered the side dish. Regardless, when I glanced at the bottle, the rest of the potion had vanished. Grandma Imelda hadn’t mentioned that scenario. Oh well. I’d serve the potatoes and hope for the best.
Rory stood behind me. “I’m sorry. Did I cause you to do that?” he asked with a worried expression.
Well, technically yes, but I was so clumsy it was bound to have happened at some point.
“No, I’m just a little on edge, I guess. It’s fine.”
I peered down at the bubbling pot. I’d never seen it look quite like that before. Those huge boiling swirls through the food couldn’t be good. I tried to remain calm and appear as if I had everything under control.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I came to help you prepare the food.” He smiled.
What was he thinking? I had a feeling this was all because Tom was here now. Was Rory jealous?