by Lee McKenzie
“Be right with you,” Mr. Donaldson called from the walk-in freezer at the back of the store.
“Maggie?”
She turned around at the sound of her name. Allison, Candice and Leslie were sitting at a small table by the window.
“Hi. Nice to see you.” Although things seemed to be working out wonderfully for Allison and John, Maggie was still a little surprised to see her with Candice. Why would she continue to be friendly with a woman she suspected of being after her husband?
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
She’d heard Aunt Margaret say that once and she’d never forgotten it. Not that she had any enemies, but she’d liked the sound of it. And Aunt Margaret was a wise woman, so maybe Allison was doing the smart thing.
“Would you like to join us?” Leslie asked.
“Thanks. I’d love to.” It would give her a chance to get to know Leslie a little better before the wedding on Saturday and, with any luck, she’d find out if the spell she’d cast for Candice was working as well as Allison and John’s.
Mr. Donaldson appeared behind the counter. “Good morning, Maggie. You here to join the other girls?”
“Hi, Mr. Donaldson. I came to get a pizza for lunch, but Allison and her friends have invited me to join them.”
“You still feeding those boys?”
“I am. The house has turned out even better than I’d hoped. Nick thinks this will be their last week, and I hope to open the spa by the end of the month.”
“Okay, first order of business. If you’re feeding Nick Durrance and Brent Border, you’re going to need more than one pizza. As for the house, I was by there the other day and it’s looking mighty good. Margaret would be pleased.”
“Yes, I think she is—would be, that is.”
Mr. Donaldson scrutinized her over the top of his bifocals. “So, you’re having pizza today instead of sandwiches. Sounds like a party.”
“Not really. I just thought it would be nice to change things up a bit. You have them ready to go, don’t you? The kind I can put in the oven when I get home?”
“Sure do, but I’ll make a couple of fresh ones for you. They’ll be ready to go when you are.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure what kind to get, though.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I know exactly what those boys like on their pizza. But first, what can I get you? Herbal tea? Maybe a nice iced coffee?”
“Can you make a nonfat chai latte?”
He chuckled. “I can do it all. Got to keep up with the times, you know. You have a seat. I’ll bring it over.”
“Thanks, Mr. Donaldson.” She turned away from the counter, then remembered she had something for him. “I almost forgot.” She dug in her bag and took out the hand cream and the green-tea soap. “These are for you. When I was here the other day, I noticed how rough your hands are. These are completely natural and if you use them for a couple of days, I guarantee all that dry, red skin will heal right up.”
He read the ingredients on the jar label, then gave her an exaggerated wink. “Interesting. But folks might think it’s kind of strange for an old fella like me to start using beauty products.”
She winked back. “Then think of them as health products. Besides, ‘folks’ don’t need to know.”
He laughed. “You remind me a lot of your aunt.”
“Thank you. I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one. Now you go sit with the rest of the girls and I’ll make your latte.”
Allison and Leslie had scooted their chairs closer to Candice and pulled in a chair from the next table. The “girls” were drinking cappuccinos. Leslie had a leather-covered notebook open in front of her and a pen in her hand.
“Wedding plans?” Maggie asked.
She smiled. “Yes. And I’m so glad we ran into you. I could use your help with something.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“Nick.”
“Oh.” Maggie had expected her to say she wanted a facial or a manicure. “What would you like me to do?”
“He still hasn’t gone in for his tuxedo fitting. I’ve left messages at his apartment, on his cell phone and with his answering service, but he never returns my calls.”
Candice was shredding her paper napkin and rolling the pieces into tiny little balls. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. I mean, isn’t this just so typically Nick? He’s been like this since high school.”
Maggie might have reacted to that comment, but at that moment the only thing bothering her was the nervous paper shredding. If Aunt Margaret were here, she’d tell the woman to sit up straight and stop fidgeting.
Allison swirled her spoon through the foam on her cappuccino and popped it into her mouth. “He spends all day at Maggie’s. You could go over and ask him in person.”
Leslie scrunched up her nose. “I know you’re keeping Nick busy,” she said to Maggie, “but you see him every day, so I was hoping maybe you could—”
Maggie’s sixth sense finally engaged. Leslie didn’t want to drop by the house to see Nick because she didn’t want to see Brent. Interesting.
“No worries. I’ll ask Nick to call you.” Better yet, maybe she’d figure out a way to accompany him to the tuxedo rental place. While she was there, she could drop off some brochures for her men’s spa treatments. And get a preview of Nick in his tuxedo.
Leslie wrote Maggie next to Nick’s name on her list.
Maggie definitely liked the look of her name paired with his, even if it was someone else’s list.
Mr. Donaldson came out from behind the counter with a tray. He set a large latte cup and saucer in front of Maggie and a small plate of biscotti in the middle of the table. “These are on the house.”
Leslie reached for one and smiled up at him. “That’s so sweet of you. I’ve been counting calories so my dress will still fit on Saturday, but I do love these.”
“I know you do. Enjoy.” He turned his attention to Allison. “John tells me you’re building a new house.”
Allison laughed. “He told you about the tree house? The kids are so excited. They’ve even talked John into a campout when it’s finished.”
“That sounds like fun,” Maggie said.
Leslie agreed. “I wasn’t sold on the idea when you first mentioned it, but it does sound great.”
Candice didn’t say anything, but her Cruella De Vil eyebrows spoke for her.
Seldom had Maggie met anyone she couldn’t relate to on some level, but she found it nearly impossible to connect with Candice. She seemed unhappy and self-centered and didn’t seem to have a nice thing to say about anyone.
As though Mr. Donaldson had read her thoughts, he winked at her before he turned his attention to Candice. “Nice new car you’re driving these days.”
She brightened immediately. “You saw it? Isn’t it gorgeous? I’ve always wanted a sports car,” she said. “I just picked it up last week. When did you see me?”
“Last night. You had a friend with you.”
Something that could be interpreted as panic flashed across the woman’s face, but Mr. Donaldson hadn’t finished. “Looked to me like you were chauffeuring a gentleman friend.”
Aha. Maggie knew for a fact that John had been at home with Allison last night because even after they’d put the kids to bed, she’d heard them working in the yard.
“Now you just need to find a man for Maggie and you’ll all be taken care of.” Mr. Donaldson glanced at his watch. “Time for me to get back to work. You girls have a nice chat and let me know if you need anything.”
Leslie reached for a second biscotti.
“Careful,” Allison warned.
“These are so worth an extra hour on the treadmill.”
“Sounds like you’ve been getting your exercise, too. You’ve actually been working on the tree house thing with John?”
“It’s been a lot of fun.” Allison looked like the cat that got the cream. “You know
I’m not one to kiss-and-tell but things have been...good.”
“Go on,” Candice said.
“I have Maggie to thank for this. Remember that morning a couple of weeks ago, when you came over and we talked?”
Maggie nodded.
“The tree house was her idea,” Allison said to her friends. “When I mentioned it to John, he agreed. We’ve been working on it with the kids and it’s been great. It’s turned into this whole big family project and...what can I say? After we get the kids to bed, John and I are having at-home date nights.”
Yes! Maggie congratulated herself. The spell had worked.
Leslie doodled a little heart with an arrow through it in the margin of her notebook. “I thought you’ve been looking happier lately.” She gave everyone at the table a sly look. “Now we know why.”
“Enough about me,” Allison said. “I’m dying to know who Candice was with last night.”
“Nobody important.”
Allison scooped more foam from her cappuccino. “Girl, we need details.”
“It’s not serious,” Candice said. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’d just as soon not have to talk about it.”
“So you’re not bringing him to the wedding?” Leslie asked.
Candice appeared to be on the verge of swallowing her tongue.
“Okay, I get it.” Allison leaned toward Maggie, one hand to her mouth, and spoke in a stage whisper. “Candice is slumming again.” Then she put her hand down and laughed. “Last time she had a secret affair, it turned out to be with one of Senator Wainwright’s stable boys. She whisked him off to the Bahamas for the weekend and when they came home, the poor fellow got fired and dumped, all on the same day.”
“Oh, and don’t forget the married guy,” Leslie said. “We only heard about him after his wife threw all his stuff into the driveway.” She patted Maggie’s hand. “Don’t look so shocked. This is Collingwood Station. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
Maggie’s opinion of Candice sank to a record low, but she knew the love spell would never result in anything so icky. Candice might not be willing to unveil the current man in her life, but Maggie believed in the power of love. Whoever the woman was with, chances were very good that he was the perfect man for her.
Leslie glanced at her watch. “Well, girlfriends, it’s been fun but I still have a million things to do.” She touched Candice’s arm briefly. “You’ll let me know if you change your mind and decide to bring your mystery man to the wedding?”
Candice lowered her head and dug through her oversize handbag. Her response was muffled, but Maggie was pretty sure she said, “He already has plans.”
Maggie said goodbye and watched them gather up their bags and leave before she went up to the counter.
Mr. Donaldson handed her two pizza boxes. “They’re all ready to go.”
“How long do I have to cook them?”
“The instructions are right here on the box.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated, not sure if she should ask him about the new man in Candice’s life. She wasn’t trying to be nosy. She just wanted to congratulate herself on two successful love spells and call her mother and gloat. Just a little.
“They’re nice women, aren’t they?”
“I’ve known them all their lives. Leslie and Allison are good girls, but that friend of theirs has always been a bit of a handful.”
Maggie silently congratulated herself on having so quickly worked Candice into the conversation. “Now that she has a new man in her life, do you think maybe she’ll settle down and live happily ever after? Like Leslie and Allison?”
Mr. Donaldson quirked an eyebrow. “Not a lot goes on in this town that I don’t know about. I don’t go in for gossip, but I’ve got eyes.”
“So you’re saying you know who he is?”
He gazed over the top of his glasses. “I’m saying it’s none of my business.”
Maggie hadn’t expected that answer. Why would talking about Candice and her new friend be gossip? Unless...
While Maggie walked the two blocks home, she thought back to the night she’d cast the love spells. She’d given Nick the brush-off so she could do the spells. And then she’d spent way too much time looking at his yearbook picture instead of focusing on the task at hand. And she hadn’t seen him yesterday. What if she’d somehow messed up the spell and he had gone out with Candice?
That was crazy. Nick didn’t even like her.
But her mother had warned her that it was a powerful spell.
I told you no good would come of messing around with things you know nothing about.
“Actually, Aunt Margaret, I don’t remember you saying that.”
Then I guess you weren’t listening.
“This is not helping.” She reviewed everything that had been said. Candice had looked extremely guilty at being found out. Maybe her new man was married? No, that didn’t make sense. Maggie was sure the spell wouldn’t work on someone who was married, or on some poor guy who’d lose his job and have his heart broken.
But what if Candice couldn’t take her new man to Leslie’s wedding because he already had a date? Allison and Leslie had probably told her that Nick had asked Maggie to be his date for the wedding.
Ugh. Please, please, please don’t let it be Nick. How bad would life stink if Candice ended up with the man Maggie had fallen in love with?
* * *
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON Nick loaded the last toolbox into the back of his truck and went inside. It had been a brutal week and Brent had done a fair bit of grumbling about the pace Nick had set for them, but the job was finished.
The past week had been torture and on more than one occasion Nick had been tempted to do something he’d have regretted.
Like Monday afternoon, when Maggie had joined him on her porch and talked his ear off while he’d built her new front steps. He’d opened up in a way he never had before and afterward he’d been shocked by the things he’d told her, about how he’d never been able to live up to his father’s expectations and how insecure his sister’s successes had made him feel.
Or Tuesday morning, when she’d decided to help them paint and he’d been unable to resist wiping the purple spatters off that adorable little nose of hers. Or Wednesday, when he’d cut his hand while changing a saw blade and she’d massaged aloe vera lotion onto it. And the list went on. He’d needed every ounce of willpower to be in the same room with her and to keep his hands to himself.
With the work completed, the only thing on his mind was taking his relationship with Maggie to the next level. Ask her out on a proper date, away from the house and far away from any possible encounter with her aunt. He believed that Maggie was simply being visited by her many fond memories of the aunt she loved so much, but there was no convincing her of that. And he didn’t care. Not anymore. It was just one of the quirky things that made her so special.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE MORNING OF the wedding Maggie was still in her bathrobe when she heard the thunk-thunk-thunk of the knocker on the front door. Nick had wanted to fix the doorbell but she had found the perfect brass door knocker at a flea market.
“It’s open,” she yelled downstairs.
She heard the door open and close.
“Nick? Is that you?”
“Yes, and I think you should keep your door locked and not invite people in until you know who they are.”
How sweet was that? “This is Collingwood Station,” she called down to him. “And I was expecting you, remember?”
“Are you ready? The wedding starts at ten.”
“Yes! I’ll be right down,” she lied, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup looked natural and understated. Her hair was another matter. There were times she wished she was a nice sedate brunette, and this was one of them. She twisted her hair and pinned it up, then pulled out the pins and let it down again.
Up or down?
Up looked a bit schoolmarmish. Down looked too ca
sual.
Face it, Maggie. Stunningly elegant has always been out of reach.
She pinned it up again. Casual was definitely out.
“Maggie? You just about ready?”
She glanced at the clock. “Sorry! I’ll be right down.” She slipped out of her robe, flung it on the bed and reached for the purple dress hanging on the back of the closet door. She’d fallen in love with it the instant she’d laid eyes on it. The shimmery silk fabric flowed deliciously against her skin and the pearls were perfect with it.
But, best of all, she loved the sequined mauve flats and matching bag she’d found to go with the dress. She slipped her feet into the flats and took one last look in the mirror. Almost as an afterthought, she tucked a lavender-colored silk flower into her hair. There. That was the best she could do and she’d already kept Nick waiting far too long.
She dashed downstairs and came to a breathless halt in her front hall.
Wow!
Some men were born to wear tuxedos, and Nick was one of them. Her imagination had not done him justice. Nick in a tuxedo was...well, unimaginable.
“Sorry it took me so long to get ready,” she said.
Judging by his appraisal, the effort had been worth it. “So much for the bride being the most beautiful woman at the wedding.”
Was he serious? It was never good to upstage the bride. “Do you think I should change? I can wear that black dress of Aunt Marg—”
“No! We’re not going to a funeral. Besides, that was meant to be a compliment. Your dress is perfect, you’re perfect and we’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Meeting Nick’s mother for the first time was part of the problem, even though she’d never tell him that. She never worried about what people thought of her, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t measure up to Lydia Durrance’s standards.
While she locked the front door, Nick opened a huge umbrella and held it over her. The rain was falling so hard, it bounced back up off the sidewalk.
“It’s really coming down,” she said after they were both seated in the black sedan he was driving.
“Yeah. My mother will be ticked.” He sounded almost happy about it. “This is a rental, by the way. My mother decided my truck wasn’t right for the occasion.”