I smiled at him. This was his usual greeting, but his once-over wasn’t anything more than a reason to judge my outfit. I took in his as well. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and tie, complete with a pocket square. He had slimmed down since I’d first met him, but still carried a slight paunch and full cheeks. His white hair was combed back off his face, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Kind eyes assessed me, and a hint of a smile lurked on his lips.
He wiggled his hand side to side. “Fair to middling.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I looked down at myself. “What can possibly be wrong with my outfit?”
I had on a pair of cuffed ankle-length jeans and a blouse he’d picked out for me. The sandals were leather, broken in, and so help me if he zapped them away.
“That blouse is so last year. I have something much better.” He rushed me into his workshop at the back of the store, closed the drapes behind us, waved his hand, and said, “Ta-da!”
I blinked back tears as he turned me toward the mirror, where a bride stared back at me. I tried to take the dress in, all in one glance. The lace bodice with delicate cap sleeves, the sweeping A-line skirt made of silk and chiffon, a thin silk belt at the waist.
My hands went to the bateau neckline first, gently touching the hand-tatted lace at my collarbones. I turned to the side and gasped at the low-cut open back. “It’s perfect,” I said on a whisper.
I heard a tiny sob behind me and turned to find Mrs. P on the sewing table, Pepe’s handkerchief at her eyes. “Doll, I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.”
“Aw, thank you, Mrs. P. Anyone could be beautiful in this dress. It’s a work of art. Thank you, Godfrey; thank you, Pepe.”
“Ma chère,” Pepe said with a bow. “The dress is not nearly as beautiful as the one wearing it.”
I kissed his head, then Mrs. P’s.
Godfrey coughed.
I kissed his cheek, too.
I turned back to the mirror, swinging my body left, then right, admiring the way the dress swirled around my legs. I might have leaked a tear when picturing Nick’s reaction to seeing me walking down the aisle. “It’s perfect. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. I can’t thank you all enough.”
“Seeing you happy is thanks enough,” Godfrey said. “It is all we have ever wished for you.”
They all nodded, and I blinked away more tears as I thought about the family I’d gained since moving to this village. People who held huge places in my heart, and it didn’t matter one little bit that we weren’t blood relatives.
“Now,” Godfrey said, eyeing me critically, “it seems you’ve gained a pound or two since I took measurements.”
I pasted on a fake smile. “I’m sure the banana milk shakes I’m addicted to aren’t helping things any.”
There was often a blurry line between secrets and lies, I decided.
“Time to stop partaking in those shakes, Darcy m’dear. If you gain so much as another ounce, you must let me know immediately. That lace bodice is unforgiving.”
I laughed. “You’re giving me a whole ounce? Very generous of you.”
He scratched at his bearded chin. “Okay, two ounces.”
“I’m surprised he’s allowing you a full exhale,” Mrs. P said, laughing.
Godfrey threw her a dark look. “I’m not savage.”
Pepe twirled his mustache and said, “Non?”
Godfrey took a step toward him, fists raised. “Do you want to take this outside?”
Pepe handed his glasses to Mrs. P. “Right here will do.”
I stepped between them. “Now, now, I don’t want any blood on this dress. You two have been doing so well getting along lately. What’s brought on these quick tempers? Is it this dress? Please tell me you haven’t been at each other’s throats over my gown.”
“It’s not your gown, doll. It’s the—yow!” She turned to Pepe. “Did you just step on my tail?”
“Did I? My deepest apologies, mon amour.” He kissed her hand up to her elbow.
I’d have bet this dress that she was going to say something about the Coven meetings or the Renewal. Harper was right about needing more transparency within the Craft. The shroud of secrecy was fine when dealing with mortals, but within the world of witches, there should be more clarity.
Mrs. P batted her eyes at him. “You’re forgiven.”
“Sucker,” Godfrey murmured.
Pepe threw his fists up. I sighed, reached over, and forced them down. He adjusted his vest, gave Godfrey the evil eye, and said, “My apologies.”
Godfrey sat on a stool. “You should be sorry, for that show of PDA. Blech.”
Pepe’s hand-kissing wasn’t nearly as nauseating as Feif’s, thank goodness, because Godfrey would lose his mind if I hoiked while in this dress. “Now you’re just asking for him to take a bite out of you,” I said.
“He is simply jealous,” Pepe said with a sniff.
Godfrey pouted. “Perhaps a bit.”
I patted his cheek. “Someone will come along soon enough.”
His eyes twinkled. “I wish it to be so.”
I laughed as I cast the wish into the ether. I couldn’t grant wishes for love, but there was no rule about finding a girlfriend. It would be my mother, however, who decided the fate of his love life.
“Are you ready to take it off?” Godfrey asked, gesturing to the dress.
I looked back to the mirror, and suddenly next Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
Reluctantly, I nodded. He waved a hand, and a second later, I was back in my normal clothes. My dress was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d it go?”
“I’m keeping it under lock and key,” he said.
“And my shoes! Where are they?” My sandals were gone, replaced with leather ballet flats with a pointy toe.
Godfrey shrugged. “Must have been lost in the shuffle. This magic stuff is not a science, you know.”
I growled at him, knowing he was feeding me a line. He knew exactly where those shoes had gone.
“No big loss,” Pepe said. “They were well past their life span.”
“Not you, too!” I turned on him.
He gave a gentle shrug. “Some things must be said that are difficult to hear.”
I suddenly felt like Mimi had this morning about life lessons. I pulled up a stool to the sewing table and sat. “Those sandals have seen me through these last couple of days, chasing leads all over this village.”
“I’ll be sure to give the sandals a dignified burial,” Godfrey said. His head came up when the bell on the door chimed and he excused himself.
Mrs. P sat on the edge of the table, dangling her tail. “Is there any news about Leyna’s murder?”
“Not much,” I said. “Feif and Carolyn Honeycutt seem to be having a competition about who can lie more than the other.” I filled them in on all I knew so far. “Now, tell me, how did you two fare in searching Feif’s room?” The two of them had gone during the night, while he was asleep. “Did anything jump out at you?”
Pepe said, “Only the portfolio.”
I scooted closer to the table. “What portfolio?”
Mrs. P rubbed her hands together. “A brown leather portfolio on the desk had contracts in it.”
“Please tell me you read them,” I said.
“Indeed we did read it, by the light of the moon,” Pepe said.
Mrs. P added, “It was rather romantic, except for Feif’s snoring. And the fact that the legal mumbo jumbo made my eyes cross.”
She crossed her eyes for full effect, and I smiled. So much for romantic.
Pepe adjusted his glasses and said, “The information within the portfolio was quite enlightening.”
“Well, enlighten me, please,” I said. “Carolyn told me that Feif wanted Leyna back because the festival’s revenue was down without her. Supposedly the new contract was to entice Lenya into going on the road with Feif, breaking with the festival altogether. Did the contract show that
to be true?”
Pepe ran his fingers over his mustache, twisting the ends. “Not quite.”
Mrs. P’s ear twitched. “Miss Carolyn told you Feif owned the festival, did she not, doll?”
“She did.”
She jabbed a finger in the air. “Another lie.”
Pepe said, “A half lie, really.”
“It’s still a lie,” she said.
They were making me dizzy. “If not that, what did the contract say?”
Pepe rested his tiny hands on his round belly. “The contract stated that yes, in fact, Feif proposed taking his and Leyna’s show on the road.”
“But!” Mrs. P interjected. “It wasn’t just the two of them.”
Pepe picked up where she left off. “Feif Highbridge was not the sole owner of the festival. There’s an unnamed majority owner, listed as Kindred Tours, LLC.”
Kindred Tours? I’d never heard of it. “Any other information? An address? Phone number?”
Pepe’s ears jiggled as he shook his head. “Non.”
I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, letting my gaze drift over the display of colorful ribbons. “I really wish Feif would show his face. He could answer so many of these questions.”
“But, doll, would he answer them truthfully?”
“Doubtful,” I answered, and stood up. “I’ll ask Nick to look into who owns the LLC.”
Mrs. P nodded. “He’s much more trustworthy.”
He absolutely was.
I kissed Pepe’s and Mrs. P’s heads again. “Thank you, guys. For everything.”
Mrs. P smiled. “Anytime, doll. Just holler.”
As I headed back outside, I thought about the LLC and tried to feel more positive about the new lead. But as I futilely searched the green once again for Feif, I couldn’t help feeling like I was getting nowhere fast with this case.
Chapter Nineteen
“I knew that Feif was bad business,” Harper said as she sliced open a cardboard box with a box cutter. “You need to learn to trust my instincts more.”
I didn’t know how she hadn’t yet cut off a finger. She wielded that box cutter like it was a dull butter knife.
I sat on a couch in Spellbound, willing my stomach to settle. I’d stopped by Lotions and Potions to see if Vince was around, but he wasn’t; then I had gone to the Pixie to see if Carolyn or Feif was there and had no luck with that endeavor, either. I’d even tried to find Andreus to ask him about the mystery stone, but he was out somewhere with Ve.
The village was feeling like a ghost town all of a sudden.
Finding myself with some free time before meeting Nick for our lunch date, I’d come by to see Harper. I’d just finished telling her about my morning with Carolyn and Stef. “What I need to learn is to not stop by here to say hello to you. You’re giving me a headache.”
The bookstore’s decor was Starry Night meets Tim Burton. Iron bookshelves in the shape of trees covered the walls, and freestanding bookcases were made of raw lumber, most of which still had its bark. Bold blues and yellows blended on the walls, the colors bright yet soothing, powerful yet warm and inviting.
Harper unpacked the latest mystery releases. “You didn’t stop in to say hello. You stopped in to kill time. And you’ve had that headache for days. It might be time to see Cherise about it.”
I stretched out my legs. “Killing time by saying hello.”
“Diversion,” she singsonged. “You should see Cherise.”
“Maybe I will,” I said to appease her.
Harper pointed the box cutter at me. “Are you just saying that to appease me?”
I was well and truly regretting coming here. “Of course.”
“You’re infuriating.”
Sometimes, when the stars aligned just so, our roles reversed and she became the mother hen and I the beleaguered chick.
“But you love me,” I said, batting my eyelashes.
“Not at this moment, but usually, yes.”
I laughed. “If the headache isn’t gone for good by tomorrow, I’ll see Cherise.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay.” She nodded as she scanned bar codes. “Now I’m assuming you went by Feif’s tent to question him again after Stef didn’t corroborate his alibi. What did he have to say for himself?”
“He said nothing, because he wasn’t at his tent.”
“Really? I thought he was supposed to open at ten.”
It didn’t surprise me in the least that she knew his hours. “So far, he’s a no-show today. After lunch, Glinda and I are going to go back to the Pixie to see if he’s returned. Stake it out if we have to.” He could be laying low on purpose. According to his fans in line yesterday, he was notorious for showing up late to his tent, which I thought was a ploy to drum up excitement among those waiting to see him.
No wonder Archie adored him. They shared a flair for the dramatic.
“Will you come back here after you meet with him and tell me what he says?” Harper asked.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Should I remind you that’s it’s my birthday tomorrow?”
I didn’t need the reminder. “Tomorrow. Not today.”
“Consider it an early birthday present.”
Yep. Definite regret for stopping by. “Fine,” I said.
She grinned. Then her smile faltered.
“What is it?” I asked, suddenly concerned.
She looked all around, then came over to me. “I went back and read the section in that book, you know the book, about the Renewal again.”
The book. Witchcraft: A Crafted History. Harper had found it in the basement last year and had read it cover to cover.
My pulse jumped in my throat. I didn’t bother to ask her why she’d picked up the book once again—when her mind was troubled by something, she researched the matter until there was no stone uncovered.
“There’s not too much written about the Renaissance, other than it relates to a promissory oath and an heir apparent. It was all so vague.” Her big brown eyes were clouded with apprehension. “You don’t think it’s possible Mom could be replaced tomorrow night, do you? And what is that part about an heir apparent? That’s usually reserved for monarchies.”
I panicked for a moment, but then I realized this situation fell into yet another Craft loophole. My oath of secrecy prevented me from talking about Renewal traditions with Harper; however, there was nothing forbidding her from figuring out the truth on her own. “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.” She absently ran a hand over her rounded stomach. “But it sounds to me like the next person in line for the Eldership has to make a vow to take over some day in order for the current Elder to be renewed.”
I bit back a smile.
“But do we even know how Elders are chosen?” she asked. “This is why we need more transparency in our world. How’d Mom get the job?”
I was saved from answering by a text from Nick. He was finishing up some paperwork, then would be heading out. It was such a beautiful day, we were going to picnic on the green. I texted that I’d pick up lunch at the Stove and be there soon. “I need to get going,” I said, holding up the phone.
“I’ll keep looking into the Elder thing,” Harper said.
I stood up. “Let me know what you find.”
“And don’t forget your promise.”
“To see Cherise?”
She sighed. “To come back here and fill me in about Feif.”
“Did I promise that?” I asked with a smile.
She rolled her eyes, and I waved as I headed out the door. As I crossed the street, no one but me probably noticed that my steps were just a little bit lighter.
My heart, too.
For the first time in a long time, I really believed everything with the Eldership was going to work out just as it was supposed to.
Then I checked myself, and nearly tripped over my own feet.
/> I was doing it again. Putting what I wanted, my hopes, above what Harper might want. Just because she was easing back into the Craft didn’t mean she’d accept the Eldership.
And if she didn’t want the role, then that was her decision to make. It was her life. Her happiness.
And happiness was all I’d ever truly wanted for her.
Right then and there, I vowed that I would respect and accept whatever decision Harper made.
But I also couldn’t help wishing that all this worrying had been for nothing—that the fates had stepped in to save the Craft as we knew it.
Secrets.
I wished it with all my heart.
* * *
I was almost across the green when I caught sight of Vince in the crowd. He was fast-walking toward the other end of the village. I hesitated only a second before deciding to go after him. I wanted to ask him about Dorothy, and if she’d mentioned to him that Leyna had told her she was ill.
As I passed Feif’s tent, I saw that it was still closed up tight. I was beginning to suspect he had skipped town. Perhaps shortly after not finding Stef this morning.
Hurrying along, I tried to keep Vince’s long, floppy hair in sight. He was tall, which made keeping an eye on him easier, but he was walking faster than I was and quickly losing me.
I issued apologies left and right as I bumped into people in my haste, and tried not to breathe in too many fried-dough fumes. I wasn’t going to be the least bit sorry when the festival packed up and left town in two days.
By the time the crowd thinned, I’d lost sight of Vince. Disappointed, I glanced left and right, and decided to take my chances that he was getting lunch at the Stove, too. I rushed that way, and was so focused on the Stove’s entryway that I nearly ran straight past Vince. He sat on the edge of the village green across the street from a charred Divinitea.
I stopped comically short, flailing my arms before setting myself to rights.
“Graceful,” he commented.
I sat next to him on the grass. “I blame the shoes. They’re new.”
“Cute.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to tell Godfrey. He zapped them onto me earlier and sent my sandals into an early grave.”
A Witch to Remember (Wishcraft Mystery) Page 17