Lorna didn’t do this job because it would make her rich. She enjoyed the theater and the arts, but she didn’t do this job for passion, either. She didn’t live in a small apartment upstairs because she liked minimalism and walking to work.
Lorna did this job because she recently turned forty-four and had reentered the workplace after an adult lifetime of raising children. Yes, she’d worked outside of the home over the years, but it wasn’t like corporate ladders were in abundant supply where she’d lived in a Vermont suburb.
One of the ballerinas’ mouse ears was askew. The little girl reminded Lorna of Jennifer. Her daughter had always been more tomboy than ballerina and dance lessons had not lasted long. At the time, she’d thought life was so hectic, but in truth everything had been so simple, so innocent back then.
Lorna found herself looking at her bare ring finger, rubbing the place the wedding band had been.
It had broken her heart to see her children’s faces at the funeral when they’d discovered the truth. They felt as if their entire lives were a lie. She couldn’t blame them for that. Nor could she be angry when they’d questioned how she didn’t know sooner.
How could she not know? That was what everyone asked.
How could you not know he was married to someone else when you married him?
She’d asked that same question of herself many times.
Why didn’t you leave him? How could you stay?
Marriage was forever. It was hard and took work. That was the lessons she’d grown up hearing and she had never seriously considered leaving him, even when she wasn’t happy.
For twenty years she’d been married to a stranger. Every I love you, every kiss, every sweet moment had been a lie. How could a woman get past that kind of betrayal?
“If I were you, I’d resurrect him just to kick him in the balls.”
Lorna glanced up in surprise, by not only the answer to her unspoken question but the fact someone talked to her. The parents usually ignored her when they came in to watch the ballerinas unless they wanted a snack from the concession stand. “Excuse me?”
The woman pinched her sunglasses between two fingers and gestured questioningly at the seat next to Lorna before sliding in uninvited. In a green A-line skirt and silk blouse, she wasn’t dressed like most of the mothers who’d come to drop off for rehearsal. Her dark brown eyes matched the color of her long wavy hair, and when she smiled it showed a row of perfectly straight white teeth.
Why was this runway model talking to her anyway?
Lorna suddenly felt underdressed in a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Though she had natural curves she’d managed to keep her weight under control through diet more than exercise. She tried to be inconspicuous as she smoothed back strands of her reddish-blonde hair and tucked the longer bangs behind her ears. The highlights were meant to frame her face, which was difficult when she kept pulling them back into a messy bun.
The woman’s steady gaze indicated she was serious about her suggestion. “Your husband.”
“I don’t understand.” Lorna frowned and reached to drop the wrench she held into the small toolbox by her foot. She shook the theater seat to make sure the bolt she’d tightened held firm. “I’m not married.”
“I read all about it. If half of what they reported is true…” The woman let loose a low whistle and shook her head. “Did he really marry three other women besides you?”
“No.” Lorna knew she should have been used to questions like this but talking about it still felt like a punch in the gut. She grabbed the tools, saying, “There were only two of us,” before walking the opposite direction through the row. The toolbox bumped against one of the seats, bouncing back into her knee. She grunted as pain radiated from her kneecap and bit her lip to keep from crying out. So much for a graceful exit.
Lorna turned to go up the aisle toward the small office near the front of the theater. It would be a miracle if she weren’t limping for the next three days. She pushed through the curtains and emerged in the lobby, only to stop and rub her sore knee.
The physical pain in her leg was less than the sharpness she felt in her chest at the mention of Glenn. Anger was preferable to shame, and she had a lot to be angry about. Although she had been thinking about him, she hadn’t been expecting someone else to mention him. In Vermont, she’d been used to the local gossip, but here people didn’t know her. That was part of the appeal of her new home. In Freewild Cove she had been invisible.
Until today.
If this woman knew about her marriage, it was only a matter of time before the story spread.
“Hey, wait.” The woman appeared through the curtains on the other side of the concession stand. “I’m sorry. My mother always told me I needed to stop speaking before I think.”
“It’s fine,” Lorna lied. What else could she say? Standing up for herself in this situation had not gone well in the past. She’d been mocked mercilessly on radio and talk shows. Even the people who had meant well couldn’t understand how she was duped for twenty years. Her intelligence had been called into question. One talk show host even proposed the only reason she’d missed her husband’s secret life was because she had been addicted to painkillers and alcohol.
It wasn’t true. If anything Lorna drank more wine after his death, and never every day or in a way she’d consider a problem.
Lorna turned to go to her office.
“No, it’s not fine.” The woman hurried after her. “Please, let me try this again.”
Lorna was forced to stop when the woman blocked her path.
“Hi. I’m Vivien Stone. I already know you’re Lorna. I heard your story and had the strongest urge to introduce myself and I don’t know why I thought…” Vivien gave her a weak smile. “I’m an asshole.”
“It’s fine. Really.” Lorna made a move to walk past her.
“What if I promise this is the stupidest thing I’ll ever do over the course of our friendship?” Vivien insisted.
Friendship? Lorna wasn’t sure how to answer, so she instead tried to dismiss her. “It’s nice to meet you, Vivien. I’m sorry I can’t talk now. I have to get back to work. You’re welcome to stay and watch the end of your kid’s rehearsal.”
“I don’t have kids. I was looking for Heather but she wasn’t in her office. But you go. We’ll talk later. In fact, you should come out with us tonight for drinks. Heather and I have a standing reservation every Friday at the Blues House Tavern when I’m in town. Just us women, music, drinking, maybe even a little hexing.” Vivien held up her hand and slowly backed away. “Don’t say no. Just think about it. Tonight at eight o’clock. You don’t even have to talk. You can listen to me badmouth my ex-husband. He’s a lawyer and not the good kind, so you know I’ll have endless complaints to fill the silence.”
Lorna found herself giving a bemused smile, unsure what to make of Vivien Stone. She wasn’t one for getting vibes off people, but she got a good one from this woman.
Vivien pushed through the front door. She chose the only one with a digital bell and it dinged to mark her exit. She passed by the large front windows before disappearing down the sidewalk. The woman was odd, to be sure, but also strangely likable despite her rough introduction.
Excited voices came from the theater, punctuated by stampeding feet. Two dozen pink mice filtered into the lobby. Several broke away for the restroom while the majority made a line at the concession stand. Lorna’s eyes went to the girl who reminded her of Jennifer. Her ears were gone and a loop of her hair had pulled out of a pigtail. She shook the nostalgia away as she went behind the counter to take their orders. Though she was the manager in title, Lorna was the only person working in the small, hometown theater so it also meant she was cashier, cleaner, and whatever else the owner needed her to be.
“I’m sorry. We only serve humans here,” Lorna told the girls with a smile. They giggled, bouncing with enough energy to make anyone jealous. “I only see mice.”
Several of the g
irls swiped their ears from their heads. Not much care was taken with the headpieces and their twenty-something dance instructors probably wouldn’t be too happy about it.
“Popcorn with lots of butter!”
“Hotdog, please.”
“Can I have popcorn?”
“I don’t know, can you?” a friend challenged.
“May I have popcorn,” the mouse corrected her order.
“Cotton candy!”
The orders came out in a rush, and Lorna hurried to fulfill their haphazard requests.
“Who’s going to pay for all this? You?” Lorna asked a mouse with curly brunette hair. Since arrangements for snacks had been paid for in advance, there was no actual bill.
“Not me, Mrs. Addams,” the girl answered.
“How about you, little mouse?”
The redhead giggled and shook her head as she took a cotton candy. “Mice don’t have money. They have cheese.”
“Then that will be five pieces of cheese, please,” Lorna said.
“You’re really good with them.” Heather’s voice came from beside her. With all the commotion, Lorna hadn’t seen her approach.
Not only did Heather own the building, which made her Lorna’s landlord and employer, but she also owned several properties around town. Heather seemed to be in a constant state of motion, moving from task to task, to job, to task, crossing them off a list on the small notebook she kept shoved in the back pocket of her blue jeans.
To the mice, Heather said, “Good afternoon, girls. Are you ready for the show this weekend?”
Heather received an array of shouted answers.
The dance instructors called for order as they lined the girls next to the window to watch for their parents.
“Do you miss having kids that age?” Heather asked, staring at the children. Her long brown hair was pulled partially up and left to fall down her back. Though pretty, the waves looked as if they’d naturally dried. Her down to earth nature was a stark contrast to Vivien’s carefully planned appearance. Lorna would not have automatically guessed the women were friends.
“In theory, for like a second,” Lorna said. “Then I remember what it was like, the constant running around, pickups and drop-offs, birthday parties, school functions. I have two boys and a girl. They were always doing something and never at the same time or place. I don’t miss that kind of busy. All I wanted to do back then was light candles, run a hot bath, and read while being left alone. Then again, now I can do that every evening and I hardly ever bother.”
Some of the parents started to arrive and children ran out to meet them.
“How about you? Do you want kids?” Lorna asked.
Heather stiffened, pausing on her way to pick a piece of rogue popcorn off the floor. Sad brown eyes glanced up and then away. The moment was short-lived, but Lorna detected Heather’s pain.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
“I had a son. We lost him when he was seven.” Heather picked up the popcorn piece and threw it in the trash can. Before Lorna could think of the right thing to say, she added, “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. It was almost ten years ago.”
A decade might have passed, but Lorna could see the woman’s sorrow. Any mother could empathize with what it must have felt like—unimaginably awful. Now that Lorna knew, she saw how that might have made Heather the woman she was today—hardworking, focused, never talking about men or dating. She had a wicked sense of humor, the kind with wry, sarcastic undertones that belied a sharp mind and quick wit.
Such loss would have brought a new kind of perspective, one which no parent should ever have to gain. Heather didn’t sweat the small things, didn’t dwell on inconsequential problems. She took care of what needed her attention and just kept moving forward.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Lorna said.
“Thanks.” Heather nodded but didn’t look like she wanted to discuss it further. She began straightening the items on the countertop.
“I can take care of that,” Lorna said. “It’s why you hired me.”
Heather nodded and stopped what she was doing.
“Oh, I think a friend of yours was here looking for you.” Lorna tried to change the subject. “Vivien Stone?”
Heather gave a small laugh. “You met Vivien? I hesitate to ask how that went.”
“She was… nice,” Lorna managed. She glanced at the remaining children by the door.
“Nice is one way to put it,” Heather said. “What did she say to you?”
“Not a lot. She mentioned we were going to be friends.” Even though Heather had shared about her son, Lorna didn’t want to talk about the drama of losing her kinda-husband. Odds were Vivien would fill Heather in later if she didn’t already know.
“Ever since we were girls, Viv has claimed she has psychic powers. No one ever believed her and she was teased mercilessly for it,” Heather said. “Sometimes I think she might be right. She is perceptive when it comes to people. It often makes her quick to jump into a conversation the other person doesn’t know they’re having. She means well though.”
“So you’ve been friends for a long time?” Lorna began counting the popcorn containers to see how many she’d given out to the girls to update the inventory.
“We have.” Heather smiled to herself. “We just found each other when she moved here in middle school and clicked. She was a wild child with hardly any supervision. Her grandmother raised her. I was a Warrick. To everyone in town that meant I came from a family of witches, which we weren’t. My mom liked the Warrick money, and hated the Warrick reputation. She did everything she could to counteract it. Vivien and I thought it was cool. I liked being special. In high school, we’d go into the woods or to the beach and used to try to cast spells together.”
“Spells? Like magical-type spells?” Lorna lost track of her counting and had to start over.
“Yeah, magic spells. We’d go to the different campsites and build fires, make up chants, and even once tried to boil a potion recipe in one of my mother’s stockpots. Mom was not impressed when she found the scorched metal in her kitchen cabinet. It was all in stupid fun.”
“And your brother? William?” Lorna inquired.
William Warrick. Lorna thought about the handsome man more than she should have. He’d caught her attention as someone she’d like to get to know… before she realized his connection to her boss.
Heather didn’t readily answer the question. She knelt down and leaned her head close to the floor to examine the toe kick beneath the counter.
Besides witchcraft and spellcasting, property management and construction work must have run in the Warrick blood. William worked as a contractor, building houses in a new development. He had the rugged hands-on appeal of a man who spent time outdoors doing manual labor.
It didn’t matter that she found him attractive. Lorna had spoken to him several times and during each conversation she overthought every word that came out of her mouth. She doubted he thought about her at all.
“What were you asking about my brother?” Heather asked as she stood back up.
“Did he do spells with you?” Lorna realized she’d stopped partway through her stack of popcorn containers and had to start over yet again.
Six. Six were missing. She wrote the number down.
“William?” Heather laughed. “Oh, heck no. He thought we were crazy. He hates everything about that part of our family legend. William is always very logical and serious. He likes things you can see and touch.”
“Vivien invited me out for drinks with you tonight,” Lorna said. “I don’t think I can make it. Please thank her for me, though.”
“That’s too bad. It’s no hot bath and a book, but I think you’d have fun.” Heather fussed with the candy display inside the case, lining up the boxes. “Viv has been traveling through New Zealand and Australia for the last month. So she’ll want to talk about all her conquests—trails she hiked, zip-lining adventures, wild ani
mals she petted, men she… petted.”
Lorna felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not looking for a relationship, but I do miss,” she lowered her voice, “petting.”
She’d been with Glenn for so long that it was hard to imagine another man in her bed. How did a woman in her mid-forties start dating again? Apps? Social media? Speed dating at bars? None of those things felt like her scene. Flirting might as well have been a foreign language in which she was not fluent.
Heather lowered her voice so no one else could hear her. “I’ll invite you the next time someone throws an adult toy party. It’s like buying candles, only not candles. You can purchase yourself plenty of new boyfriends. They’re quiet, and they’re fine when you lock them away in a drawer. They don’t make a mess. They’re dishwasher safe. They don’t care what you look like.” She gave another laugh. “They’ll even swat stuff out of the high shelf if you swing them hard enough. Just as good as the real thing.”
“If they can take out the trash and change the lightbulbs, I’m sold,” Lorna teased.
“I suppose you could ask it several times and it would never get done. That’s kind of the same thing,” Heather answered with a shrug.
Lorna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing too loudly.
“You okay?” Heather nodded toward where Lorna rubbed her knee.
She hadn’t realized she’d been doing it. “Yeah, it’s fine. I banged it earlier with my toolbox when I was fixing that loose seat bolt.”
“Speaking of fixing, that reminds me.” Heather pulled out her notebook and flipped it open to her current list. She grabbed a pen and spoke along as she wrote, “Glue theater loose toe kick.”
“I can do that if you want,” Lorna said.
“It’s fine. I have glue at home.” Heather stared at the list before crossing off a few items. “I need to check on those spotlights to see if I can’t get them working before the recital. Anything else you need me to look at while I’m here?”
Second Chance Magic Page 2