Felix’s mouth hung open. “A trade for what? I have nothing to offer you!”
She pointed at the dresses. “All I want is the mystery behind each of these dresses solved.”
“You want my daughters to solve their mysteries? But how?” he asked, befuddled.
Arabella lifted her brows and tipped her head to the side. “When the time comes, they will figure it out.”
“But what if they don’t want to solve the mysteries?”
“Then either return the dresses untouched, or you’ll have to repay me in some way.”
His jaw dropped open. “I don’t have the money to pay for all of these dresses!”
“Then you can repay me with something truly valuable to you.”
“Anything valuable to me?” he asked. His mind raced. He had his spare truck to offer. Of course, Whitley and Esmerelda used it for driving into town when he was gone. I’m sure Essy would be happy to part with the old jalopy, he thought. She never did like it anyway.
Arabella waved a hand at him dismissively. “I don’t think we need to fret about minor details, Felix. I know it’ll work itself out.”
He looked down at the pile of dresses. He was sure there was bound to be something useful in there. Whitley could surely dress them up with her flair for fashion and her sewing abilities.
His eyes slowly moved up to meet Arabella’s. He couldn’t believe he found himself considering accepting this peculiar woman’s offer. It felt a bit surreal, like he was being propelled along in a dream. He held a tentative hand out to Arabella. “Deal.”
A smile poured across her face like slow-spreading honey. “Very good,” she said, holding her bejeweled hand out to shake his. “Let me get these dresses packaged up for you, and then you can be on your way!”
A weight seemed to lift off of Felix’s heart, which moments ago had been heavy and full of anxiety. Now it suddenly felt buoyed in his chest. His girls were going to be so excited! He could barely wait to get home and show him their good fortune.
Chapter Two
Pulling aside the sheer curtains in her bedroom, Whitley Snow’s breath caught in her throat as she rubbed her fist against the frosted windowpane. Delicate snowflakes fell from dark grey clouds, covering the ground below her second-story window like an undisturbed white blanket. Whit’s emerald-green eyes, fringed with eyelashes like chocolate-colored awnings, sparkled excitedly. “Oh, Essy!” she breathed. “It’s snowing! I didn’t think it would! Do you know what this means?”
Lounging across Whitley’s neatly made lavender bedspread, her sister Esmerelda rolled onto her back and flipped her long brown hair out of her eyes before groaning. “That it’s going to be muddy next week?”
Whitley let go of the gauzy material, threw her arms out wide, and pirouetted across the room. “No, silly. It means we’ll have real snow for this year’s Winter Solstice Snow Globe Ball!”
Esmerelda lifted an arm into the air and twirled her finger. “Woo-hoo,” she replied in a monotone voice.
Whitley grabbed a small carved wooden wand off her desk. An orb-shaped bloodstone was held in place by a spiral of copper wire atop the smooth cherry-stained wand. She gave the stick a slight swirl in the air, and a cream-colored cashmere scarf magically plucked itself from an oversized wooden wardrobe on the other side of the bedroom and floated towards her. When it landed lightly in her hands, Whitley wrapped it around her neck and peered into the mirror. “Essy,” she admonished. “You need to cheer up. Saturday is going to be the best day of the entire year! Maybe even the best day of our lives!”
Esmerelda sat up straight on the bed. Her perfectly manicured brows dropped and she curled the corner of her ruby-red lip in disgust. “Tell me how it’s going to be the best day of our lives, Whit. It’s a ball, not a wedding. And besides, we have nothing to wear! You know we’ll be stuck wearing something we’ve worn before! What kind of statement does that make? I’ll tell you! It tells the world that we’re paupers! That’s what kind of statement it makes! Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
Whitley cocked her head to the side as she glanced at her sister. “Why are you so worried about our dresses? Dad promised he’d bring us the most beautiful dresses he can find!”
“I’m sorry if I don’t put a lot of faith in Dad’s shopping skills. What does he know about fashion? Or about buying dresses for a ball?”
Whitley turned to face her sister, putting her fisted hands on either hip. “I offered to make us dresses. You should have just let me do it.”
Esmerelda groaned. “Are you crazy? I don’t want a homemade dress! I don’t understand why you couldn’t just zap us up some fabulous gowns like Cinderella’s fairy godmother did!”
Whitley giggled. “Just because I have a wand doesn’t make me a fairy godmother, Es. My powers don’t work like that.”
Esmerelda’s green eyes darkened. “Ugh, I wish they did.”
“Listen, give Dad the chance to show you that he can do this. I know he’ll come through for us.”
“I just wish Everland Cove had a decent shopping mall. Then we could have bought our own dresses, instead of sending Dad!”
Whitley put a hand on either side of her sister’s shoulders. “Relax, Es. Dad’s got this covered. Have faith. And if he doesn’t bring back something you like, I’ll figure something out. I always do!”
Esmerelda crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “You mean you’ll make us dresses?”
Whitley nodded.
“I don’t want a homemade dress. I think that just might be worse than re-wearing last year’s dress!”
Whitley felt a pang of unappreciation squeeze at her heart as her eyes swept across her sewing machine and the large pile of fabric next to her desk. She’d sewn their own clothing for years. Why, at twenty-two years of age, Essy was suddenly opposed to wearing one of her custom creations, Whitley wasn’t sure. “Okay,” she whispered.
Tired of talking about their father and her lack of a dress, Esmerelda sighed before changing the subject. “Do you have a date yet?”
The side of Whitley’s mouth crooked up into a half-smile as she stood up straight. “No, but I assumed Ash and I would go together. He doesn’t have a date either.” Whitley plucked absentmindedly at the puff sleeves on the hand-made blouse she wore.
“Oh, Gawwd,” drawled Esmerelda. “Why in the world would you go to the ball with Sebastian Everett? He’s soooo boring! The only good thing about him is that his father is positively loaded.”
Whitley’s green eyes widened as she gasped. “Ash isn’t boring!” She lifted the matching cashmere sweater off the back of her desk chair and tugged it on over her blouse. “He’s amazing! We have so much fun when we’re together!”
Essy rolled her eyes. “If you have so much fun with him, then why don’t you marry the man already?”
Whitley felt heat rush to her cheeks. She most certainly had no interest in discussing her love life, or lack thereof, with her nosy sister. “You know it’s not like that with Ash and me. We’re just friends.”
“See? Boooring,” sang Esmerelda. “You won’t catch me going to the ball with some platonic friend.” She spat the words platonic friend from her mouth as if they tasted like Brussels sprouts. But, of course, Whitley expected that from her sister. Aside from handsomeness, there were three qualities Esmerelda Snow looked for in a man: she liked them fast, reckless, and rich.
The Snow twins were well-known in Everland Cove. Not just because they were enchanted witches, but because of their remarkable beauty. With their petite features, their long, dark hair, fair skin, and brilliant green eyes, they were a magnet for men. Esmerelda attracted the majority of the suitors, however. Not because she was any more beautiful than her sister—they were identical, after all—but because Esmerelda Snow was, quite simply, a party girl. She changed men almost as often as she changed her underwear. Picking one out in the morning, she often had selected a different one by the evening.
Whitley didn’t mind
that her sister wasn’t as virginal as she was. Sleeping around wasn’t her cup of tea, but if having loads of boyfriends made Esmerelda happy, then it made Whitley’s life that much better. She, on the other hand, was quite content being single. She had her sister and father, her best friend Ash, and her fashion design to keep her company.
“I’d rather go to the ball with a friend than with some random,” said Whitley with a shrug.
“Hello?! That’s called dating, dear sister!” bellowed Esmerelda. “It’s fun. You should try it. How do you ever expect to find a husband if you’re not doing it?”
Whit shrugged. “Who said I’m looking for a husband? I’m only twenty-two. I want to go to fashion school someday and live in a big city. What I don’t understand is why you would you want to find a husband this early. Then you have to give up your wild and lazy lifestyle and be someone’s wife.”
Esmerelda was quiet for a moment. “I just want my life to begin. I’m tired of waiting for it to happen.”
Whitley gave her sister a soft smile. “Essy. I’m afraid you can’t see the forest for the trees!”
Her twin lifted the corner of her lip. “Huh?”
“This is your life. Quit waiting for it to start. It already has!”
Esmerelda rolled her eyes. Whitley knew she probably didn’t get it. She never would. Her sister was too self-absorbed to see the big picture. Esmerelda lifted her chin towards Whitley, who had begun to pull on her winter coat. “Where are you going?”
“I have to run into town. Do you want to come?”
Esmerelda cast a glance out the window. “But it’s almost dark,” she whined.
“And?”
“And it’s snowing.”
“So?”
“I just curled my hair.”
Whitley groaned. “Come on, Es. It’ll do you some good to get out of the house.”
Esmerelda looked at the white cashmere hat Whitley was just about to pull over her own freshly curled hair. “Let me wear your new hat and scarf, and I’ll go with you.”
Whitley peered at her reflection in the mirror. She loved the matching set her father had found for her in the city during his previous work trip. He’d been so proud of the good deal he’d negotiated with the street vendor that he couldn’t wait until Christmas to give her the gift. “Dad got you a set too. Wear yours,” suggested Whitley.
“Mine’s pink.”
“So? I happen to like pink.”
Esmerelda smiled sweetly. “Then trade me!” She shrugged as if that were that.
Whitley frowned. She liked pink, but she liked her cream set better. Then she looked into her sister’s hopeful green eyes and sighed. “Oh, fine. I’ll let you wear mine today, but I’m not trading. Dad gave me this set. I don’t want to give away the gift he gave me.”
Esmerelda pulled Whitley’s scarf from her neck and wrapped it around her own. “Oh, thanks, Whit, you’re the best,” she gushed before throwing her arms around her sister.
Whitley sighed. If only her sister truly thought she was the best, she’d have treasured the hug because it came from her heart. But Whitley knew the truth. “Alright, let’s go, then.”
Chapter Three
The rusted-out Ford pickup truck thumped into every pothole on the way into town, causing Whitley and Esmerelda’s heads to jerk sideways in unison. The wipers squeaked as they chased each other back and forth across the windshield, struggling to keep up with the heavy snow blanketing the outskirts of Everland Cove.
“I hate this truck!” whined Esmerelda. “Why can’t Dad buy us a new car? All the girls our age have new cars.”
“All the girls our age also have jobs, Essy. I’m sure Dad would love it if you went out and got a job. Then you could buy yourself a new car.”
Esmerelda crossed her arms across her chest and peered defiantly out the window. “Oh, who wants a dumb old job? Not all girls our age work. You don’t have a job.”
Whitley turned the steering wheel towards town and looked at her sister out of the corner of her eye. “I do too have a job, Es. I’m a seamstress and a budding fashion designer.”
“You hem old women’s pants and replace broken zippers. I’d hardly call that a job.”
Whitley pursed her lips. “You know I’ve done more than that. I’ve sewn all of our clothes for years. And I’ll have you know Mrs. Huntley hired me to make all new curtains for her entire house, and if that goes well, she said she’d recommend me to the women in her garden club.”
“Big whoop,” said Esmerelda. “I still don’t consider that a real job.”
“It’s enough for me,” said Whitley. “I’m putting away every cent so I can go to fashion school in the city in a few years.”
“School,” she spat, rolling her eyes. “Even worse than getting a job. At least you get paid when you have a job. No one pays you to go to school!”
The old truck bounced through the streets of the small village, passing by the familiar downtown shops, whose lights were just beginning to shut off one by one. It was nearly dusk, and the streets were lit by cheerful Christmas lanterns and colorful old-fashioned bulbs. Whitley pointed to a brightly lit tree in the center of town. “Look, Es, Everland Cove put up their Christmas tree!”
Esmerelda put a hand to her chest in mock surprise. “Alert the media!”
“Oh, Es. Why must you always be such a downer?” asked Whitley, wrinkling her nose.
“Why must you always be such an upper? No one can possibly be this perky all the time.” Her eyes widened dramatically.
“I can,” chirped Whitley as she pulled the truck in front of Fiona’s Fabrics at the end of the row of shops. She hopped out of the truck before her sister could say another cross word to her.
“Good evening, Fiona,” sang Whitley as she pushed open the heavy door. The warm scent of Fiona’s apple cinnamon candle blasted her in the face. “Thanks for staying late. I see all the other shops are starting to close up for the night. I’m sure glad I called ahead.”
“Oh, not a problem, Whitley,” said Fiona with a hint of a tremble in her voice as she kept one eye trained on Esmerelda. While Whitley and Fiona had formed a friendly relationship over the years, Whitley could tell Fiona, like many of the women in Everland Cove, was intimidated by her sister. Whit couldn’t blame any of them. Es charmed her way through the men in Everland Cove, but to the women, she was rude and demanding.
“Mrs. Huntley said you’d have the fabric she picked out all ready for me?” Whitley smiled warmly at Fiona.
Fiona nodded and moved to the other side of the counter. “I sure do.”
“Have you gotten in that new fabric you’d mentioned ordering?” Whitley asked as she examined a simple grey flannel adorned with white snowflakes.
“The mystery fabric?” asked Fiona. “I did! And what a fabulous idea that was! Thank you! I think it’s going to be a hit. I ordered the Sherlock Holmes pattern and the Murder on the Orient Express pattern. Can’t you just picture a pair of Agatha Christie slip-covered throw pillows for the chair in the den? How precious!”
Whitley heard Esmerelda’s condescending puff of air from across the room but ignored it. She was debating buying a few yards of the flannel to make her father pajamas for Christmas. Then she saw a navy-and-grey-plaid variety and immediately knew it was perfect for her father. She picked up the bolt of fabric and carried it to the counter. “Six yards of this please, Fiona.”
Esmerelda reeled around to look at her sister’s purchase. She lifted one brow skeptically as she eyed the plaid material. “Ew. Why would you buy flannel? Gross.”
“It’s for Dad. For a Christmas gift.”
“Just don’t make me something out of that. Can we go now?” demanded Esmerelda. “I’m cold. I thought we were coming into town to go somewhere fun.”
Just then the front door chimed, and two familiar people walked into Fiona’s Fabrics.
Whitley smiled warmly at the pair. “Ash! Mrs. Everett!” she said excitedly.
“W
hit!” he said as a smile spread across his handsome face. “I saw your dad’s truck out front. I figured you’d be in here. What are you doing in town?”
“Just getting some fabric for a few projects. I think we’re supposed to get some serious snow tonight. I didn’t want to be snowed in at the house tomorrow with nothing to do!”
Sebastian Everett shook his dirty-blond hair out of his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you, Mom? Whit’s always got to be doing something to keep busy.”
The Amazonian woman with the stacked brown hair pulled her handbag closer to her stomach as she slipped past a rack of brightly colored fleeces. “Yes, you sure do sing Whitley’s praises to me all the time,” sighed Mrs. Everett. “I commend you, Whitley. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I’m glad to hear you’ve found your calling. And how about you, Esmerelda?”
Esmerelda looked up to stare at Ash’s mother with a dry look that read, I’m sorry, were you talking to me?
“Do you keep busy as well?” she asked.
Esmerelda puffed out her breath. “I most certainly do keep my calendar full.”
“She meant with work, Es. Not dates,” scoffed Whitley.
Fiona’s eyes widened as she measured out Whitley’s flannel, but bit her lip.
Esmerelda glowered at the three of them. “I know what she meant, Whitley.”
Mrs. Everett cleared her throat as she poked her head around a corner to look at Whitley. “Oh, Whitley,” she began. “I know you’re busy with your sewing projects and such, but Sebastian is always boasting about what a terrific sleuth you are.”
Whitley smiled and lifted a brow towards Sebastian. “Oh, is he?”
His face flushed. “I’ve only mentioned a few of your many cases. Like the Marshall case.”
“I don’t know that I would consider a case of a missing high school football jersey worthy of mention,” said Whitley, more than slightly embarrassed.
Spells and Jinglebells Page 49