A Spot of Bother

by Magenta Wilde

  “As far as I’m concerned, that’s just another way of describing a witch,” Emily said.

  “Fair point,” I agreed.

  11

  The weather was curious the day Ash returned. Outside the sun shone brilliant against blue-gray clouds, and the odd snow flurry blew past my store window. It seemed like it could rain, shine or snow or storm at any moment.

  Also, for some reason the word glittering kept coming to mind as I gazed up from my work from time to time.

  I’d been setting out more seasonal candles and arranging some yuletide ornaments we’d made as Jordan had installed a garland of fine white snowflakes of different sizes that he’d hand cut from a hazy warm white paper and stitched together with fine opalescent string. In between the snowflakes he’d also tied a few shimmering beads as tiny accents. Now he was setting up twinkling white lights around the garland, and they sparked charmingly against the slightly waxy paper and shiny beads.

  I was looking up, admiring his handiwork, when he and I both turned our heads toward the front door of my boutique.

  At that moment Ash was tugging the door open. Jordan’s mouth dropped and then he hopped down the ladder and ran to give the Pooka a hug, swaying back and forth with glee.

  Ash had a high color to his pale cheeks, and I noticed he’d changed his hair. It was still red, but a deeper crimson from when I’d seen him last. He had added a few more streaks, too, but instead of a pale buttery blond, these were stark white.

  “Cool hair,” I said. “Is that for the season?”

  “Perhaps,” he smiled. “Good to see you, Miss Poppy. No hard feelings, I hope, after the Halloween debacle?”

  I grinned in return. “None, so long as we’re good.”

  Right after Halloween I’d had several days of troubling experiences.

  As a tradition, I always put out something for the Pooka each year, and it turns out Ash was the Pooka who visited my family every Samhain. My mother didn’t leave an offering, so he just took something from her clutter — something she hadn’t even been aware of — which I secretly found endlessly amusing. I, on the other hand, always left out some kind of home-made baked treats for him.

  This last Halloween, however, he hadn’t gotten his annual Pooka’s share. I had set it out, but Tom had thought it was left for him, so my treats-loving stepfather took it for himself.

  Ash, feeling slighted, began to play a series of tricks on me, including turning my hair an unfortunate shade of orange and ransacking my shop.

  Even after I’d figured out it was Ash who was behind the mayhem, he was stubborn about forgiving me.

  Until my mother stepped in.

  She bound him with knot magic and tormented him until he relented.

  I’m pretty sure she unleashed her special brand of hell on him out of love for me. But I’m also pretty sure she got a huge charge out of getting the upper hand over another paranormal creature.

  Either way, I had my day-to-day life back in order, and I was very happy about that.

  I reached under the counter and pulled out a box of homemade cookies. “Would you like some? There are pecan-caramel scones in here, and some chocolate cookies coated with coconut.”

  He took one of each and sampled both. “Very good, Miss Poppy. The chocolate is divine. Very moist and chewy.”

  “Have another,” I offered.

  “Before Tom discovers them,” Jordan cut in.

  “Yes,” I peered into the box. “It’s mostly full, so he obviously hasn’t been around.” I turned to Jordan. “I assume he comes begging and foraging when I’m not around?”

  “More than you’d ever know,” my employee replied.

  “And I know it’s a lot,” I grinned.

  “Don’t worry,” Jordan added. “I know where we hide the extras so everyone has a shot at them.”

  “Well done,” I smiled as I turned toward Ash. “So what brings you here this fine November day?”

  Ash turned his golden gaze to Jordan, who beamed when they made eye contact. “Two reasons. First, to see dear Jordan here. And second, to check in with Scott — I believe you know him quite intimately — and see how our brewpub is coming along.”

  “Will you be staying long?” Jordan asked.

  “I am renting a house along the water, across from the park …”

  “You mean Brady Park?” I asked.

  Ash nodded. “Yes. I found a place that will be available for the winter.”

  “I’m assuming it’s someone or some couple who’ll be going to Florida for the winter,” I said.

  “That’s it exactly,” Ash replied. “They just left yesterday, and I picked up the keys today.” He held up a keyring and jiggled it.

  “Is it one of those big fancy houses on Water Street?” Jordan asked.

  I was curious about that, too.

  “I suppose you could say that,” Ash said. “It’s a Queen Anne, one with yellow trim.”

  Water Street was short, but boasted several large homes. A few, the ones lining the water to the east of Brady Park, were historic and were open for tours during the warmer months.

  The houses facing the park and St. Mary’s River were also more than a century old. They all perched on tiny front yards with deep slopes, many blanketed with elaborate landscaping. Most were Victorian and a couple were Tudor or Queen Anne style.

  I’d been inside one several years back, it had boasted fine woodwork, elaborate mosaics and a gorgeous view of the river and the Canadian side.

  “Oh, I’ve walked by that house many times over the years,” I said. “It’s beautiful on the outside. It has really pretty landscaping in the summer, too.”

  “Yes, I was shown pictures of what it looks like in the summer,” Ash replied. “It is beautiful then. It still looks good with all the shaped shrubbery.”

  “Are we talking about neatly trimmed bushes?” Mom said, sensing potential gossip and hightailing it over. “It’s essential to maintain one’s landscape, if you ask me.”

  “You mean keep one’s yard tidy?” Jordan asked. “You don’t really do anything with your front or back yard as far as I can tell, other than those flower boxes in the front.”

  Mom gave him a look.

  I chuckled. “I don’t think my mother is referring to yard work in this instance.”

  “Then what is she referring to … oh,” Jordan said, his cheeks flushing. “You mean … .”

  “Exactly,” Mom nodded. “You’re learning, my dear boy.” Instead of carrying her usual cigarette, she held Clover in her arms. The cat looked markedly better in the few short days since she’d rescued it.

  We all approached — Ash included — and reached out and fussed over the now creamy-white cat. Its fur was soft and detangled and he looked like the very picture of pampering.

  “He looks great,” I said. “Did the vet give him a clean bill of health?”

  “He did,” Mom agreed. “And he gave him a little snip yesterday morning, too, if you know what I mean. No chance of Clover juniors now. Before that, I gave him a bath and brushed him out. He had a lot of mats and tangles, but he’s gorgeous now.”

  “Aw, poor little guy,” Jordan cooed. “He’s doing really well after the surgery, it seems.”

  Mom shrugged. “Getting the males fixed isn’t as much work. They recover faster. Unfortunately we can’t fix all males so easily. At least not where it counts,” she added, tapping her temple for emphasis. “So Ash, I see you have returned. Will be you sticking around longer this time? Should I maybe adjust your tie so you linger for Jordan’s sake?” She smirked, probably remembering how she bound him by tying a magical knot using his tie.

  “No, and talk about a fashion disaster,” Ash snapped as his eyes flashed hot for a moment and he took a step backwards, sliding off his tie and jamming it in his pocket.

  “Sensible move,” Mom smiled. “But I’m feeling generous today.”

  “That’s good to know, but I learn quickly,” Ash replied, tapping his own
temple.

  “So long as we have détente, I won’t trouble you.”

  “And so long as you don’t try and feed me,” Ash responded, “I won’t trouble you.”

  “That’s a pity,” Mom said. “I was planning on inviting you over for dinner on Thanksgiving.”

  Ash gave her an assessing look. “I’m not sure I’m ready to sample your wares again.”

  I couldn’t blame him. The last time she’d served him a literal mess — crackers cooked with canned meats and olives and processed cheese and pickled beets, among other cruel and unusual ingredient combinations. I was still leery to venture over at supper time myself.

  “Fiona’s back to cooking good meals again,” Jordan chimed in. “Last night she made a really good goulash.”

  “Oh, that does sound good,” I said. “I love your goulash.”

  “Yes,” Mom drawled, “if you’d bother to come around some evening you’d be able to fill your face, daughter dear.”

  “Well, if you’re back to making good soups, stews and roasts, I’m all ears.”

  Ash looked between the three of us, perhaps assessing if we were telling the truth. “She really can cook?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

  Jordan opened his mouth to say something but Ash rested his fingertip on his lips. “No, not from you. I want to hear it from Poppy. I know she will tell me the truth if Fiona’s cooking is delectable or dreadful.”

  “Mostly it’s good,” I began.

  “Hey!” Mom shot me a dirty look.

  “What?” I shrugged. “Most of your cooking is really good. Now and then you do experiment, but it hasn’t been too often as of late, with the exception of when you tried to quit smoking. But usually it’s pretty damn awesome,” I said, turning to Ash and pressing my hand over my heart. “Witch’s honor. I’m actually regretting missing the goulash, to be really honest. Mom’s not the best at baking, but the other stuff is usually excellent.”

  “So a Thanksgiving visit is not some ruse to torture people?” Ash asked.

  “No,” I said. “We like to stuff ourselves silly, so we naturally want it all to be good. Tom recruited me to bake a couple pies to bring over.”

  “Now I’m really tempted,” Ash said.

  “Poppy won’t get a chance to stuff herself silly this year,” Mom tutted to no one in particular.

  “How is that,” Ash asked. “Oh wait, are you spending the day with the handsome Mr. Montgomery?”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling. Then I sagged a bit. “Also his family.”

  “Ah, it’s getting serious,” Ash grinned.

  “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

  “Yes,” Mom started, “she’s abandoning me, her dear mother, who was in labor with her for twenty-three hours — twenty-three! — to spend it in the arms of her man, sucking up to her future mother-in-law.”

  Ash’s eyebrows raised again. “Oh, has he proposed already? I knew it was coming, but this is quite sudden.” His eyes darted down to my left hand.

  “You knew this was coming? Are you psychic or something?”

  “I know things,” was all Ash said.

  “Well, as for the future mother-in-law comment, that’s just Mom jumping the gun. We’ve only been dating a couple months after all.”

  “Nonetheless,” Mom cut in, “I told him your ring size and that an engagement ring would make a fine Christmas present.”

  I set my hands on my hips. “Please tell me you didn’t do that, Mom!”

  “I did,” Mom beamed. “And he didn’t seem to mind the advice at all. I think he appreciated it, in fact. I also told him when he does start shopping, that Jordan and I will be on hand to give him some solid advice.”

  “You suggested me?” Jordan asked. He looked excited.

  “I did,” Mom nodded. “You’re gay so you have fabulous taste, and you also have that magical knack for finding things, so you would make jewelry shopping easier.”

  “It sounds like I could make a career out of being a personal shopper,” Jordan said, mostly to himself.

  “You could,” I said. “You kind of already do that, because you often suggest exactly what a customer wants and without very little probing or guidance.”

  “Kind of like Emily’s magic,” Mom said. “But you do it with things other than food.”

  “That’s cool,” Jordan said. “Her powers are awesome.”

  I turned back to Mom. “Just, please stop putting the cart before the horse. It’s just been a couple of months. Let us enjoy ourselves.”

  “Whatever,” Mom smirked. “So, Ash will you join us for Thanksgiving? You are more than welcome, especially since our table will be emptier as my daughter has abandoned her dear sweet mother.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  I groaned. “Come on. I already said I’d pay a visit, probably in the evening. I’m contributing to the menu and I’m damn well going to partake.”

  “Why are you baking at all, if you’re spending most of the holiday at his family’s?” Ash asked.

  “I want to make some things to bring over to Roger’s family as a way to ingratiate myself, but I also want to visit Mom and Tom and Jordan — and you, too, since you’re coming — later so I’ll still be a part of the day’s festivities on both old and new fronts.”

  “You’re just coming over for leftovers,” Mom sniffed. “Not even to see me.”

  “I’ll see you when I raid the fridge at your house and eat leftovers at your kitchen table.”

  “Are you really going to stop in just for food, after eating at the Montgomerys?” Jordan asked.

  “Not just for food. Also for the company, though possibly some company more than others.” I slid a telling look in Mom’s direction. “Roger’s fine with it, too, if you don’t mind me bringing him along. Plus I’m probably going to be restrained over at their house and not make a pig of myself, so I’m coming by your place for a heaping second helping.”

  “I feel used,” Mom moaned, fussing with Clover’s fur. The cat surprisingly remained calm and settled right next to her, where she’d set him on the new sofa in my shop.

  He simply lay curled into a little cat ball and purred and whirred contentedly.

  “Tom is making the turkey this year, right?” I asked.

  Mom nodded. “But of course. You know I hate to do it. Handling a big fat slimy bird like that is disgusting.”

  I ignored the raw bird description.“Well, then, can you blame me for wanting to come over and help myself?”

  “Is Tom’s turkey that good?” Jordan asked. “I never really see him cook, except for bacon and pancakes.”

  Mom and I nodded vigorously in unison. “He honestly makes the best turkey I’ve ever tried,” I said.

  “I second that,” Mom agreed. “He gets up at the crack of ass and starts preparing the bird early, fussing over it all morning.”

  My mouth was watering at past memories, when I’d stayed over and woken to the smell of turkey roasting in the early morning hours. My stomach growled in response. Mom’s did then, too.

  Ash smirked. “I heard that. It’s the best possible endorsement as far as I can tell. I guess I will have to come over after all.”

  “And he makes the best stuffing, too, full of sausage and apple and sage.” My stomach growled more loudly. “I guess it’s time to change the subject,” I laughed, “or go get lunch.”

  “I am peckish,” Ash said, patting his flat stomach. “Do you mind if I steal Jordan for an hour? I’d like to visit Ms. Emily and pay my respects.”

  “So long as you bring me back something,” I said.

  “Before you go,” Mom said, holding up a hand, “Is it true you rented the Parker house over on Water?”

  “The Parker house? That’s not the name of the people I’m renting from,” Ash said.

  “It’s owned by the Millers, but it’s long been called the Parker house,” Mom explained.

  “Were those the original owners?” Jordan asked.

  Mom n
odded.

  “How did you know that I was moving into that house?” Ash asked. He looked more impressed than surprised.

  Mom shrugged. “I have my ways.”

  “And she’s a big gossip,” I added.

  “That’s one of my ways, yes,” Mom nodded. “So it’s true, then?”

  “Yes. I just got the keys today,” Ash said. “I haven’t even seen the place in person, just online, but I was impressed.”

  “In return for your dining with us on Thanksgiving, I in turn want an invite to check out the Parker house.”

  “I have no problem with that,” Ash said. “Is there any particular reason?”

  “Not really. I just want to explore it. I was at a party next door many moons ago, and got a glimpse of a couple of the rooms from the back once we took the party outdoors. I’d like to see what’s there is all.”

  “That can be arranged. I’ll have a little soiree and invite you all over shortly. Maybe a little holiday gathering.”

  “I’ll be there with bells on,” Mom said. “I mean that literally, too.”

  “We would all be disappointed otherwise,” I said.

  When they left, Mom stayed behind, fussing over Clover.

  I brewed some coffee and sat next to her. She took a sip of hers, then opened a flask and poured in some dark clear liquid.

  “What are you doctoring it with this time?” I asked.

  “Some Kahlua. Want a belt?”

  I scrunched up my face as I pondered. Business had been slow and likely would be. The last big rush would come closer to Christmas.

  “Stop overthinking it,” Mom snapped. “I know you and Roger have been going at it like newlywed rabbits. You can afford the calories.”

  “That calories comment may be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in recent memory,” I quipped. I gave a nod and held out my mug. She poured a generous amount. I was about to protest but when I took a sip, I found I couldn’t complain. It was cold out anyways and colder still by the large window we were seated along. I wouldn’t be driving anywhere for a while, either. All good reasons, as far as I was concerned.

  “So did you come over for gossip when you saw Ash had arrived,” I started, “or did you have something more in mind?”