by Carla Caruso
Ay caramba.
Jadon’s awkward laugh resounded from the Merc. Then there was an ominous creak. He was exiting the vehicle! Why, oh why was he feigning politeness at the worst possible moment?
He edged onto the footpath, extending a hand towards her mother. ‘Hi. Yes, I’m Jadon, Teddy Eder’s son.’
‘Sofia’s my name,’ her mother purred back, accepting his handshake. The fact a fairy-tale ending eluded her had never stopped her flirting. ‘Don’t mind me, I was just spreading my seed.’ Mina dug her fingernails into her palm as her mum cheerily prattled on. ‘Well, spreading fertiliser technically. I always like to do it before it rains.’ She touched Jadon’s shirtsleeve, for no apparent reason. ‘The grass soaks it right up.’
A speckled chicken waltzed through the opened gates and began pecking at the verge’s grass, adding to the weirdness. Mina inhaled. She needed to coax Jadon back into the Merc ASAP, before things got even more peculiar—
‘It is you, Mina! I thought Sofia was just cackling at nothing as usual. Well, Sofia and her chooks.’
Nonna Rosetta now materialised at the end of the drive, adding to Mina’s woes. Though, it was far too soon for Jadon to be meeting her family. In fact, he didn’t need to meet them at all. She wasn’t Lotta, about to be wed!
Her nonna shuffled forwards in tartan slippers, a toiletries bag clamped under one arm. She probably imagined it her handbag; these days, Nonna Rosetta’s sight was even worse than Mina’s. Unfortunately, witches couldn’t avoid the rigours of ageing. Her nonna looked otherwise ‘on point’, though, care of her dark pixie cut, black frock and orange pashmina.
After warmly grasping Mina’s hand in greeting, Nonna Rosetta turned to look up at Jadon. No mean feat considering she was five-foot-nothing and he was at least six-foot-three. ‘Arlo, Madonna mia! It’s been too long,’ she exclaimed, causing Mina’s stomach to sink even lower. ‘Good thing I put the pasta sauce on.’
Things were going from bad to atrocious. Next, her senile nonna would accidentally turn Jadon into an axolotl.
Sofia beat Mina to correcting her. ‘Mamma, that’s not Arlo, it’s Mina’s boss’s son!’ She turned to raise her dark brows at a bewildered Jadon. Cringe. ‘My mother’s always held out hope that Mina’s ex would return one day. Though that’s about as likely as … Bewitched being inspired by a true story.’
Mina dropped her gaze. What had she done to deserve such a charade? It had never been more vital to get Jadon back on the road, even if it meant resorting to magic again and later clearing his mind. She was that desperate.
But when she looked up, she saw Jadon had shifted backwards, narrowly avoiding the chook taste-testing his footwear. ‘Huh, right,’ he murmured. ‘Anyway, good meeting you all. I should probably leave you be now. Mina will be seeing enough of me at work.’ Then he strode back out onto the street, darting a look at Mina over the Merc’s soft-top. ‘Catch you tomorrow.’
The freaked-out look in his eyes would forever haunt her. ‘Yup,’ she squeaked.
Within mere seconds, he’d tested the forty kilometres speed limit to get the hell out of there. To think she’d dropped in on her elders to prevent her sister being humiliated.
Her mum appeared entranced by the Merc’s fading taillights. ‘Well, he’s rather delicious. Beautiful … eyes. He’s got a slight height advantage over Arlo too.’
Mina swallowed a groan. Another of her mother’s problems was that she still thought love was to be enjoyed, however fleeting.
‘He’s my boss right now,’ Mina bit back. ‘And anyway, he’s not in town for long.’
‘All the better.’ Her mother grinned, nudging her with a hip. ‘Want to come in for some pasta so we can chat more? I was just finishing up in the garden.’
‘Mangia, mangia,’ her nonna chimed in encouragingly.
‘I can eat,’ Mina allowed, always hungry for the duo’s cooking. At least in the kitchen, they were typical Italian women. ‘But any hint of either of you turning the dish into “psychic pasta” and making a love prediction, I’m outta here, seriously.’
Chapter 5
The next morning, Mina sipped from her green juice … then spluttered the mouthful across the island bench.
A face stared back at her from behind her tree-fringed rear window. Heart beating, she took in the visitor’s slight features and toffee-brown curls. Argh … Lotta. She must have snuck in via the back gate. Mina’s breathing slowed again.
Waggling her brows, Lotta yelled through the glass, ‘Good to see you too. Thought I’d drop by for a quick cuppa before work.’ She was a lifestyle reporter for the local rag.
‘Some forewarning would have been nice,’ Mina muttered, sliding off her stool and heading for the door. Lucky the antique store didn’t open until ten.
Lotta was saving moving in with Dino for marriage. She rented a cottage nearby with a friend. According to their elders, turning someone into a black cat was A-OK, but ‘living in sin’ was not.
Mina unlocked a French door and pushed it open for Lotta. Her sister looked resplendent in a maroon shirtdress with a botanical print; the closest she got to being a green thumb.
Lotta sniffed as she waltzed in. ‘I thought you could sense shifts in atmosphere, people arriving, that sort of thing.’
‘Only on occasion,’ Mina returned. ‘It’s not like turning a tap on and off, you know.’ Appropriately, she then headed for the sink, grabbing a sponge to mop up her browny-green spray.
Lotta perched on a stool opposite, wrinkling her nose at the mess. ‘What were you drinking anyway? Witches’ brew?’
‘No, a green juice.’ Mina ditched the sponge in the sink. Somehow Lotta always made her feel like being a witch was a crime. ‘I mixed a super-greens powder with water. Celebs like Elle Macpherson swear by the stuff.’
‘If it means I’ll get longer legs like her, I’ll give it a go.’ Lotta winked, her eyeliner wings so perfect, as usual, they could fly away. ‘Otherwise I’ll just go a coffee, thanks.’
‘I don’t drink coffee, remember? Only decaf.’ One thing Mina hadn’t inherited from her elders was their ability to down a few litres of espresso a day without it affecting their sleep. ‘I’ve got plenty of herbal teas, though. Passionfruit and hibiscus, forest fruits …’
Lotta scrunched up her itty-bitty nose again. ‘Whatever’s the least weird.’
Mina rummaged in a kitchen cupboard, plucking out a carton of mango and strawberry flavoured loose-leaf tea. It’d have to do. ‘So, what’s new with you?’
She had an inkling why her sister was really there, but she wasn’t about to be the one to bring it up. Lotta toyed with a decorative pinecone in a bowl while Mina organised tea infusers in two mugs and switched on the kettle. The green juice she’d finish later.
‘Oh, you know, I’ve just been keeping busy with wedding planning stuff,’ Lotta said casually. ‘Which reminds me, you mentioned you might drop in on Mum and Nonna to discuss tomorrow’s dinner. Go okay?’
And there it was.
Mina forced a smile, deciding not to mention the women’s encounter with Jadon. Or how, at dinner, her nonna had called Dino ‘Mr Sheen’. Mina assumed that this was because he was short—not that Rosetta could talk—and kind of shiny-faced.
‘I told them no funny business,’ she replied overbrightly. ‘And they promised to be on their best behaviour.’
She had her fingers crossed that their interpretation of this would cut the mustard in the real world. Still, it proved enough for Lotta, her shoulders visibly relaxing. ‘Cool.’
Mina had a sudden weird urge to shake her sister. Because what she didn’t get was that, despite their elders’ sometimes embarrassing ways, she was the lucky one. Unlike Mina, she was about to get her happily-ever-after, all tied up with a red bow.
The kettle boiled and Mina moved to fill their mugs. She handed the mauve one to Lotta, then dunked the infuser in her own. ‘What about your bridal gown? Fallen back in love?’
‘Yeah, I’m g
oing to stick with it. Think I was just having a moment of pre-wedding panic.’ Lotta turned to gaze out the window dramatically, like a TV soap character. ‘Now the only thing left to organise is the bridal shower.’
Mina stopped her dunking. ‘I thought your glossy posse would be all over that. They love a party and being in charge.’
Lotta gave a little cough. ‘No, I think they assumed my favourite sister would be onto it, as my maid-of-honour.’
‘Your only sister,’ Mina shot back while still feeling suitably guilt-tripped.
The Italian girls, from the foothills, who Lotta hung around, appeared perfect in every way, from their hair to their wardrobes, partners and jobs. They just rarely lifted a finger for anyone but themselves, which Mina had somehow forgotten. Despite their lack of magical powers, she secretly dubbed them ‘The Coven’.
‘I wouldn’t want a tacky sort of celebration,’ Lotta chattered on. ‘Like a party with condom necklaces and pin-the-willy on the poster type games. I’d rather something more … sophisticated.’
Mina drummed her nails against her mug. ‘You know, my new boss has been wanting us to come up with fresh ideas for the store, and I mentioned event prop hire. Maybe I-I could try styling a vintage-look lunch for you, at the botanic garden or something? Like, with a low table, boho cushions, candles, and so on. I mean, if that doesn’t sound too witchy.’
She mentally pricked another thought bubble about signing Lotta and co. up to a DIY terrarium workshop. Undoubtedly, they’d be too worried about ruining their manis.
Lotta tapped her chin. ‘Huh. That witchy woodland vibe is in vogue these days. Sounds very Jade Jagger. And none of my mates have done anything like it … All right, I’m in. How’s Saturday in three weeks’ time? I already gave people a rough idea of the date, just not the venue.’
Jeepers.
Mina nodded overenthusiastically, praying Jadon wouldn’t now change his mind about trialling the idea. Who knew Lotta would be so keen? ‘Sure. I’ll get cracking on the preparations.’
After they’d drunk more tea, Lotta jumped from her stool, appearing bouncier. She mightn’t have had magical abilities on her side, but she did have the power of manipulation. ‘Guess I’d better go get some work done. Thanks for the tea and the chat.’ She paused on her way to the door. ‘No Christmas tree up yet?’
Mina stopped behind her. ‘Um, yeah, I’ve still got to drag out my little white one from the attic.’ Obviously, Lotta didn’t have the same issues around the festive season as she did. ‘By the way, I meant to compliment you on your frock earlier. It’s lovely.’
While she only wore dresses to parties herself, they suited her sister to a tee.
Lotta flashed twin dimples. ‘Guess where it’s from? The fashion chain Witchery!’
‘And you say you’re not a fan of such stuff,’ Mina deadpanned as Lotta sailed out.
After sliding the door closed behind her, Mina wandered back to pick up their empty mugs, ready for the dishwasher. (The machine weaved its own kind of magic.) For a moment, she was distracted by errant leaves in the bottoms of the mugs. She could read them and predict how her workday might pan out, even Lotta’s dinner.
Almost as soon as the thought entered her head, she yanked open the dishwasher and shoved the mugs inside. Like for mere mortals, some things she was better off not knowing.
‘I’ve got a proposal for you.’ Mina seized her chance with Jadon while helping to arrange new shop stock later that morning. Sutton was tending to a customer a few aisles away.
The alarm in Jadon’s eyes, since meeting Mina’s elders, had dissipated at least. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her nerves in his orbit, regardless of her faux confidence. It helped that he currently had his head stuck inside a two-door mahogany armoire.
‘Go ahead,’ his muffled voice came back. Looked like he wasn’t about to drop what he was doing to listen. Good.
She fiddled with a stripey milk jug on a shelf. ‘Okay, well, my sister’s asked me to host her bridal shower in three weeks, and … I had an idea. You know how I suggested hiring out some furniture as event props? Well, I thought maybe I could try out the concept on her garden party.’
Jadon’s head re-emerged from the wardrobe and Mina allowed herself to splash about in his hazel eyes for a second. Hey, good looks couldn’t be denied.
‘Your sister asked you to play host? You didn’t offer?’ he questioned, something strange evident in his gaze. A twinkle. He was teasing her. Another hint of him thawing out a little since his arrival.
She laughed. ‘I’m close to her. But she did kind of spring it on me.’
‘Are you similar?’
Mina was taken aback at his sudden interest in her personal life, but she covered it up by waffling on. ‘Um, we’re pretty different actually.’ Much more than he could ever have imagined. ‘Lotta’s a real … girly girl, unlike me. She loves her fashion and celebrity gossip. She works in the media. Oh, and she’s about a foot shorter than I am.’
‘Interesting.’ Jadon nodded. ‘And I suppose you’d want all the furniture for her party for free?’
And they were back to him playing hard taskmaster. Mina flushed. ‘Well, I guess. I mean, I thought it’d be a good opportunity to test out the pros and cons of prop hire. Maybe even get some good pics for the website and social media, if all went well.’
She’d make damn sure of the latter too.
Jadon cleared his throat, taking his sweet time to respond. ‘Ordinarily, I don’t like people mixing work and home lives. But, in this instance, as a test like you say, I’ll look past it.’
Mina wanted to explode back, ‘Just trying to help reinvigorate your dad’s shop here’, and, ‘Enjoy power-tripping before he returns’. But, instead, she mumbled her thanks; she still had a job to hang onto.
Jadon stuck his head inside the armoire again, signalling the end to the conversation topic. ‘Hey, what do you make of this?’
Mina peered around the door. Unfortunately, rather than him instigating a Seven Minutes in Heaven kissing game, he was gesturing at the armoire’s shadowy back wall. She ignored the headiness of his cologne and nearness—there was just something about him, annoyingly—and concentrated on squinting at the wood.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she clocked a crudely etched six-leaf motif, with concentric circles.
To think the cupboard had already been giving her The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe vibes …
‘That’s a hexafoil,’ she jabbered on autopilot, reaching to trace the design with a finger. ‘I’ve heard the early British colonials used to scratch them into wood and rock to ward off evil spirits. Apparently, such superstitions helped them to make sense of Australia and the strange new world they’d landed in, you know, full of natural hazards, bushrangers and convicts.’
Jadon’s top lip curled in the shadows. ‘What sort of hocus-pocus is that? They would have been better off being adequately armed and laying off the booze.’
Mina’s hands flew to her hips. ‘Ever blown out candles on a birthday cake and made a wish? Or eaten a Christmas pudding with a coin hidden inside for luck? Such magic is still around us every day.’ Okay, now it was time to dial down her bias a notch. ‘Aside from that, spin the tale right and you could up the asking price for this piece.’
The last part seemed to get through to him, from his expression, but she was too irritated to care. She swung away from the wardrobe and knelt before a pallet-wood box. It was stamped with the word, fragile. The same of which could have been printed on her heart—
‘Bastard.’
‘Tell me what you really think.’ Jadon closed the wardrobe, shocking her again with some humour.
‘Gah, no.’ Her cheeks hot, she gestured at the dark sliver embedded in her palm. ‘I’ve got a splinter.’
Jadon’s expression returned to its usual setting: solemn. ‘Hang on, I’ll get some tweezers.’
Mina stood up again, weirded out at the thought of him performing
something so ‘intimate’ on her. But what was she meant to do? Moments later, he returned from the backroom, pulling up short mere centimetres from her. Embarrassingly, she forgot to breathe … that whole treat-’em-mean-to-keep-’em-keen vibe of his.
He reached for her palm, his fingertips warm and slightly coarse against her skin. Was she sweating, or was it him?
‘This might hurt a little,’ he warned, just like a needle-wielding nurse.
She looked away, bracing for it as the tweezers broke through her skin. A globe overhead winked as though acknowledging her pain … a pain mingled with guilty pleasure at his touch. All too soon, the heat of his hand fell away.
‘Got it,’ he said.
She turned to find him holding up the splinter in the tweezers’ grip like a prize.
‘Appreciated.’
He stepped back and she could almost see his boss armour going up again. ‘Right, how about we get you putting up more Christmas decorations now? I can handle the rest of the stock.’
Hmm. Could he have felt as uncomfortable at their momentary closeness, or was he just uneasy at the inappropriate, doe-eyed vibes she was giving off?
Regardless, she said, ‘Sure’, even though he couldn’t have picked a worse job for her.
After work, Mina stood beneath the gnarled Moreton Bay fig trees at the Hilforest Botanic Garden. Just letting the sensations wash over her. While the leaf-littered lawn was now empty of people, in her mind’s eye, she envisioned smiling guests at a bohemian picnic. Her imaginary décor included a low wooden table, mismatched cushions for seats, a Persian rug, and brass vases filled with native flowers. Weather permitting, it’d all look amazing … and hopefully, impress Lotta and Jadon.
Mina glanced down at her palm, realising she was stroking the tiny pink cut, left by the splinter, with her thumb. As though it was a love bite. She dropped her hands to her sides. The only reason she needed to impress Jadon was to stay on the payroll. The whisper of the trees turned condescending to her ears.