PICKED OFF

by Linda Lovely

  “Whoa,” Sala piped up. “Hold your horses here. If Brie’s not sure about going steady, hooking up, or whatever you call it with Andy, she won’t do him any favors by pretending she’s sure he’s the one. That’s just stringing him along. It’ll hurt worse when that string breaks, and it’s bound to when ‘what if’ gets stuck in her mind. I’m speaking from experience. Be absolutely certain when you say ‘yes it’s for keeps.’”

  I shook my head. “You two didn’t let me finish. Want to know the Ouija board’s answer? It didn’t spell out Andy or Paint. The planchette pointed directly at that ‘Good Bye’ square. It means I ought to say good-bye to a future with either man.”

  “Doesn’t have to mean that.”

  I jumped at the deep voice. Andy. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard? Rotting ribeyes. Paint stood right next to him. Could it be any worse?

  Mollye and Sala excused themselves, deserting me. Yes, it could be worse. I’d have to face this humiliation alone.

  “I knew you were freaking out,” Andy said. “You’ve been avoiding both of us. I’m not naïve enough to think a kiss—even a steamy one—means we’re engaged.”

  Paint rolled his eyes. “No need to go into that kiss again. You get cocky every time you talk about it. If I’d been there, she would have kissed me instead, and the decision would have been made.”

  Paint held up both hands, grinning at me, and my stomach clenched. What were the boys up to?

  Andy took over. “Last spring, you told us plain enough. You wouldn’t date either of us because you didn’t want to choose one friend over another.”

  Jumping Jerky, sounded like they were easing into a break-up speech. We hadn’t even dated. How could they break up with me?

  Paint grinned. “You just need more data to make the right choice. Me, of course. So we’ve come up with a solution. I’ve even conceded the starting position to my best friend. Next week, date Andy. The week after, date me. Then Andy’s up again. Shouldn’t take long for you to decide that you and I were made for each other.”

  Andy chuffed. “Like that’s going to happen. I figure after a week with you, she’ll come running back to me.” He turned to me. “But there is a condition.”

  “No sex,” Paint said. “Nobody gets naked.”

  Andy nodded. “Whatever clothing starts the date stays on for the duration.” Andy paused until he was sure I was looking at him, paying attention. “When this rule breaks, the decision is made.”

  “The die is cast,” Paint added.

  Andy laughed. “Cut and dried.”

  “The horse has left the barn,” Paint countered.

  “Stop. You guys want to pass me around like a sack of flour?”

  “Not for long. Since Andy has week one, I predict a decision an hour into week two,” Paint said.

  Sala whooped and hollered. She and Mollye had crept back into listening range once they decided there wasn’t going to be a shouting match or cryfest.

  “Can we take bets? Sounds like Paint’s willing to give odds. I envy you, Brie. You gotta say yes. You’d be a blazing idiot not to.”

  I wasn’t sure about that. Wouldn’t Paint feel jealous seeing me with Andy? Or vice versa? Especially if we ran into each other.

  Yet how could I refuse? The alternative was too bleak—saying goodbye to any chance of finding out if one of them might be the love of my life. They seemed convinced that if I eventually picked one, the other would still be a friend. It was kind of a win, win. At least for me.

  I reached out to shake hands, first with Paint, to formally seal the deal.

  “You need to understand, we’re not in Mormon territory. This isn’t a ‘brother-husband’ kind of thing,” he said, still gripping my hand. “Andy and I will see other women on our off weeks.”

  Can’t say I liked the sound of that, but what’s fair is fair.

  “Understood.” I gave his hand a final shake then shook Andy’s.

  “It’s a deal.”

  Decision made, I felt light-headed with relief. Stiff winds had chased the black storm clouds away turning the sky an optimistic Carolina blue. I took a deep breath. The scents of fall filled the air. A distant bonfire mingled with a promise of hot mulled cider each time the front door opened.

  A lot to be said for being alive.

  FORTY

  While the welcome home party lasted a couple of hours, Paint and Andy left as soon as they finished off one of the apple pies. Though their hours were often irregular, both had afternoon work commitments. Paint was in the process of expanding his distillery to add fine whiskies to his product line. Andy was interviewing candidates for a veterinary tech assistant. His sister Julie had given notice she’d be leaving his practice as soon as her baby arrived. The last time I saw Julie, her departure looked as if it could happen any minute.

  Mollye, Sala, and I hung around, helping with kitchen clean-up. Sala and I scrubbed counters while Mollye emptied the dishwasher, making wild guesses about where all the dinnerware belonged. I hoped Carol wouldn’t be searching endlessly to find where Moll stuck things. I never let my friend put away dishes at Udderly. We had quite different opinions on “obvious” locations for utensils and cutlery.

  After hiding the last spatula, Mollye announced she needed to leave, too. “Have to fire some pottery. Only two weeks left until that big arts and crafts show in Asheville. Want to have new pieces ready. I’m testing some new glazing techniques. Think the results will be gorgeous but it’s impossible to know until they’re fired.”

  “Is your studio near here?” Sala asked. “I’d love to see your work.”

  “Yeah, it’s at the back of my Starry Skies store. Would love to have you visit. How about now?”

  “Why not? I have nothing else on the agenda.” Sala turned to me. “Want to come? You can ride with me and show me the way.”

  “Sorry,” I answered. “I need to drive Eva back to Udderly, and I’m behind on the bookkeeping.”

  Eva punched my shoulder. Hadn’t heard her walk up. “Nonsense I can drive your puny little car back to Udderly. Go on with Sala. Maybe you’ll find the perfect present for someone you love. You may recall a certain beloved aunt has a birthday next week.”

  I laughed. “How could I forget? You remind me twice a day.”

  “Guess that’s settled,” Sala said. “Just need to say our goodbyes to Carol and Zack.”

  A few guests remained. Howie Lemcke was chatting with Zack about his rehab, exercises that might be helpful, and workout duration. Linda, Phil, and Carol were tossing around ideas for a campaign video to be broadcast statewide in a final push for votes.

  We wouldn’t be missed.

  Sala said her piece first, addressing Carol and Zack. “We’re leaving now. But those Hummers will stay. Told the executive protection agency to make sure you two have top-notch protection until Gunter’s locked up. I’ll check in later.”

  “Can’t thank you enough,” Carol said.

  “Nonsense,” Sala answered. “I’m protecting one of our team’s top assets.”

  She awarded Zack with a furtive wink; he smiled back at her. Neither gave the room at large any sign of their romantic entanglement. Guess that would remain secret until post-election—or longer if Sala didn’t find a way to end the battle of the will with Kate.

  After a chorus of goodbyes, Mollye headed to her Starry Skies van while Sala and I walked to her Mercedes, an SL Roadster. Since my friends arrived after the barricades went up, both vehicles were parked a block away from Carol’s house.

  “Wow, love your car.” I caressed the soft leather as I slid into the passenger seat. Too bad the convertible hard-top was firmly in place. Still I felt a bit like Robin must feel when he gets to slide into Batman’s passenger seat.

  “Actually it’s Dorothy’s car. But what are sisters for? I drove it the last time I
visited. Liked it so much I bought myself one soon as I got home to Vegas. While this black’s classy, I chose fire-engine red. Bet you’re shocked.”

  “Not a bit,” I answered. “Red’s definitely your color. It’d be my choice, too, if I could swing the payments.”

  I figured the price tag probably hovered in the hundred-grand range—a purchase range I never expected to roam.

  Sala revved the engine. “Should I just follow Mollye’s van?”

  “Sure. Your roadster could fly by her van, but that might seem impolite.”

  Sala chuckled. “Don’t want to make the woman mad. She might fire us in her kiln.”

  It took under ten minutes to reach Starry Skies, a tidy cottage Mollye’d converted into a store. The previous owner had unsuccessfully fought construction of a new highway that devoured a good portion of his acreage and transformed his wooded homestead into commercial property.

  His loss had been Mollye’s gain. The stone cottage had been solid, well-cared for. With a few imaginative touches, she made it look as if it might be a B&B for witches—good, kindly witches. Mollye then added a pottery studio to the back of the cottage-shop. It wasn’t visible from the road.

  In full glitter, a large sign out front promised Starry Skies was a “New Age & Metaphysical Experience.” Sala smiled when she read the billboard. “The store’s charming, and so…Mollye. Reminds me of Mollye’s quilt tattoo. Old and new.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed.

  Mollye jumped down from her van and unlocked the door. Her hair had finally dried, and she’d resorted to braids to tame her fly-away locks. The resulting hairdo with its green-streaked part and Gretel-style blonde braids had the same jarring effect as her quilt tattoo.

  “None of my regular sales people could come in today so I just locked up. Couldn’t miss Carol’s press conference and welcome home party,” she said as she took down her “Closed” sign.

  Unlike traditional Open/Closed signs with clock faces that show when a store is scheduled to reopen, the “Closed” side of Mollye’s sign featured a witch on a broom. Printed below: “Will reopen when the witch decides to fly back.”

  Sala started to ooh and ahh as soon as we walked inside. “Don’t worry about lost business. Imagine I’ll buy enough to compensate. What a fun place.”

  The team owner made a beeline for one of Moll’s pottery pieces near the front of the store. The expression on Sala’s face almost matched the looks she bestowed on Zack when she figured no one was watching. Lovestruck.

  Easy to understand. I’d bought several pieces for Summer Place. I couldn’t really afford them, even with a friend’s discount. But I knew they’d be a huge hit with my B&B guests if I ever managed to finish Summer Place renovations.

  “I’m definitely buying at least three of these. They’re absolutely beautiful.” Sala held one of the large pierced vases that were among Mollye’s specialties. After the large vases were thrown and air dried, Moll used an electric drill and needle-sharp punches to create a lacy network of different sized holes. Midnight blue and moon glow glazes fired onto the vases readied them for twinkling interior lights. Voila! Mollye had somehow found a way to lock Starry Skies in a vase—metaphysical take-out.

  Since I’d visited many times before, I only half listened to Mollye’s explanations of her wares. Still it was fun to hear Sala’s delighted responses. I loved it when Mollye found new fans of her art, creativity, and whimsy.

  Who could resist? Starry Skies had something to strike everyone’s fancy. Moll’s pottery was the focus of what I thought of as her “gift” section.

  Then there was the garden section. I often wondered what Udderly’s animals would make of it if I scattered Mollye’s light-weight concrete gargoyles about their domains. Her garden assortment also included giant mushrooms and Greek goddesses.

  Of course, the metaphysical section—Mollye’s Witches-R-Us supply depot—was the showstopper. There were full-moon candles, talking sticks, and willow wands. Plus maybe a hundred glass containers the size of cookie jars chockful of medicinal herbs. Mollye even arranged them in alphabetical order. I watched as Sala picked up a container labeled Hibiscus Flowers, nestled next to Horse Chestnut (chopped).

  “Let me show you my studio,” Mollye said. “After that, you can start picking goodies and writing checks.”

  I picked up a witch ball, imagining my aunt’s response if I bought her one as a birthday present. The hollow glass balls were a gorgeous swirl of colors. A variety of myths surrounded them, but Mollye stuck with the one that argued the balls were so fascinating and beautiful they acted like magnets to attract their opposites—the evil spirits. Once evil spirits fell within their sphere, the balls captured them and trapped them inside.

  “You coming?” Mollye called, pausing at the cottage’s former back door, now the entry to her studio.

  “In a minute. Going to browse. It’s the first year Eva will celebrate a birthday without her twin. Her gift should be something happy.”

  Once Mollye and Sala left the stone cottage proper and entered the add-on studio, their voices faded away to mere whispers. The cottage’s thick stone walls muted sound.

  I spotted a gorgeous necklace—not Eva’s taste, but definitely mine. It hung from the carved limb of an intricate wooden jewelry tree. I’d bent to free the necklace from its perch when the front door opened.

  Figuring I should greet any customers since Mollye was busy, I started to rise up. I froze. Through the intervening aisles I caught sight of coiffed blond hair, a tanned neck and ear, and a sizeable diamond stud. Then I saw the gun.

  An involuntary shudder rippled through me. I dropped the necklace. It fell silently on a cottony cloud below the jewelry tree.

  No need to see the rest of his face. How? Why?

  Spam in a can. He hadn’t come to buy pottery.

  FORTY-ONE

  Doug.

  He’d flown off to Las Vegas—or was it just his plane that departed?

  I crouched lower, shifted. Found a space to peer through the jewelry tree and assorted jugs and vases. The two-carat diamond in Doug’s left ear caught the light. Too bad he had to flaunt his wealth. I might have stood up and greeted a stranger, made an easy target of myself. But the diamond cinched it. The person who’d entered was the enemy not a customer.

  He stood still, getting his bearings. His head slowly swiveled right to left as he surveyed the store. I knew his reputation on the field. A tactician. Patient. Always waiting for the right opportunity, the perfect moment.

  When he turned my way, I could see his face as well as his coiled body. He looked like a GQ poster boy. Handsome. Poised. Too bad the thin plastic gloves ruined the image. Doug appeared as comfortable with a handgun as he did with a pigskin.

  I had to warn Mollye and Sala. Maybe I could yell a warning and distract him at the same time. Put him off balance. I surveyed the merchandise in my vicinity for potential weapons. Okay, if not weapons, annoyances. The pottery vases were too heavy. I couldn’t heave one past the next aisle let alone shotput one at his head.

  My gaze caught on the sparkling witches’ balls nestled in their stretchy display nets. Maybe, just maybe. They were light, and they’d shatter on impact. I could use the nets to swing the balls like those Spanish cowboys wound up their bolas. Yippee ki-yay and let the suckers fly.

  I palmed two balls. I’d use both if I didn’t have a heart attack or take a bullet after my first heave-ho.

  I leapt up and screamed—“Doug’s inside! He’s got a gun!”—as I swung the ball overhead lasso-style and let loose. The brightly colored orb careened off my intended path like a demented bird. Still it flew.

  It smashed into a post two feet from Doug’s head. His right arm automatically jumped up to shield his eyes. He yelped. For a few seconds, his gun waved, un-aimed. I took advantage and ran like a gawky chicken, knees bent, elbows spread for
balance.

  When I reached the end of the aisle, I ducked down and tried to stop hyperventilating. Didn’t need desperate gasps to pinpoint my location.

  It took me a couple seconds to regain my nerve. You can do it. Just do it. Fast.

  I bounded up once more and fired my second crystal sphere, while I yelled. “Get out! Call for help.”

  Though there were dozens of potential obstacles between Doug and me, my second ball sailed past them until gravity finally claimed it. The colorful sphere plummeted to the floor in Doug’s general vicinity. I didn’t see it land, but mentally applauded the sound effects as it splintered into tiny shards. I crossed my fingers hoping a few flew up to clip Doug.

  “Brie! Where are you? Where’s Doug?”

  Mollye’s voice was panicked but clear as a bell.

  I swore silently. Capricious as always, the woman hadn’t listened to me. Hadn’t run out the back door. She—and I presumed Sala—were inside the studio.

  Doug’s angry growl said my screams and the exploding glass weren’t expected. His eyes narrowed as he searched the aisles for some clue that would tell him where I hid.

  “Too bad, Brie. Thought it was just Sala and Mollye. Didn’t plan on dealing with you, too.”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. It seemed as if Doug was staring straight at me. He must have seen where I’d been when I popped up to throw the second witches’ ball. I hadn’t crept very far from that spot.

  “Don’t worry.” Doug’s voice sounded soothing. “Sala’s my first priority. I’ll save you for later.”

  He chuckled. “Too bad you had to warn your buddies. If you’d snuck out, I’d never have known you were here. And your warning was worthless. I barricaded the back door before I came around front. Mollye and Sala have nowhere to go.”

  Doug calmly walked toward the front door and flipped the sign around so the broom-riding witch proclaimed the store closed. Then he grunted as he struggled to shift a heavy display case far enough to block the front exit.