She eyed his still-dripping T-shirt. “I’m not sure you’re good advertising for that claim.”
“But check out my team.” His eyes were full of mischief. “Vero and Marion didn’t get a drop on them.”
“You’d put me on your team of old folks, would you?” Jennie raised an eyebrow. Besides, while half his team of senior-citizen defenders had stayed dry, the same could not be said for Melvin and Helga, who had pulled out water pistols to defend against Lizard’s final charge.
Jamie followed her gaze, chuckling. “I didn’t know they were armed. That Helga’s a handful.”
“You know you’re going to have to invite her back now.” Helga’s victory dance had been a sight to behold, a popped water balloon hanging off her knitting needles as she shimmied barefoot through the puddles.
“Of course.” Jamie looked rather proud of himself. “And she’ll make sure Elsie doesn’t chicken out the next time I need her, too.”
Jennie shook her head. Only her nephew could recruit a team full of non-witches and scared-of-a-little-water newbies and still emerge Water Balloon King. “It’s a little hard to believe she was the mastermind behind all this. Silliness isn’t exactly her forte.”
Jamie grinned. “She shocked the hell out of me. She talked Helga and Marion into coming and recruited Vero and Melvin at her singing lesson this morning.”
Which they had both conveniently failed to mention. “Somehow, I don’t think that was a particularly difficult job.”
“For them, no.” Jamie was more serious now. “But when was the last time Elsie approached people with an idea that was purely about having fun?”
Jennie smiled, impressed with his instincts. No witch trainer ever truly took their mentoring hat off—even in the middle of a monster water fight. He’d given Elsie the role she really needed to play.
And it wasn’t the only lesson he’d snuck in for the day. Jennie looked around the back yard at the day’s heroes. Helga. Nat. Daniel. “A lot of pretty venerable non-witches on your team.” Another oft-repeated Witch Central lesson, and not a bad one for their weak fire witch to learn, either.
“Yup.” He looked entirely too innocent. “They throw and shoot pretty well, though.”
Jennie looked down at her still-damp clothes. “You don’t say.” She’d spent ten minutes foolishly trying to defend Team Lizard’s home base from Nat and Elsie’s purely non-magical assault. “Was that your idea or Elsie’s?”
He grinned. “Nat’s.”
That figured. Nat was no stranger to embedding life lessons in some innocent fun either.
It was time to get some food. Even the vanquished needed to eat. Jennie pointed her nephew in the direction of the loaded picnic table—and then froze, her pendant blazing. Lizard.
Jamie was three steps ahead of her, catching Lizard as her legs gave out. Jennie reached out with her mind, seeking, but there was very little to read—her student was out cold.
Worried bodies crowded around as Jennie knelt beside her blonde fairy’s head—and then gave way to one very bossy nine-year-old healer snapping out orders as she moved to her newest patient’s side. “Jennie or Lauren, set up a mind shield for her. Uncle Jamie, port my healing bag. Mama, we need cookies.”
Ginia dropped down by Lizard, placing one hand on her forehead, the other on her chest. Witch Central quieted, well used to healing scans and the need for relative silence. When Ginia’s eyes opened again, two things were clear. Whatever had happened to Lizard, it wasn’t all that serious. And somebody was in real trouble. Or a lot of somebodies.
“When’s the last time she ate?” Ginia glared at everyone in the immediate vicinity. “Or slept? She’s totally out of gas.”
Jennie winced. “She’s been pushing herself pretty hard.”
“And you let her?” Now Ginia’s anger had a target. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of her?”
Ouch. “She’s a grown woman, sweetie.”
“Even adults can be stupid sometimes.” Lizard began to stir under Ginia’s hands. “She’s waking up now. Uncle Jamie, pour her some of that disgusting green stuff in my bag.”
Aervyn skidded to a halt, cookie tin in his hands. “I have cookies. They’re a lot better than that yucky green stuff. Don’t make her drink it, Ginnie.”
“You’d get cookies because you’re little.” Ginia wasn’t bending an inch. “Stupid big people get the green stuff first.”
Jennie tried to hide her grin. She knew better than to mess with a healer on the rampage. And Ginia was right—most witches didn’t want to face the green stuff more than once. It tasted like a cross between moldy gym socks and three-week-old Chinese takeout. With a little horseradish thrown in.
Lizard took one sip and sat up protesting, looking a lot more lively. “That’s nasty! I’m fine. I just got a little too hot or something.”
Ginia’s eyes were fierce. “Drink.”
Lizard’s eyes flared. Jennie grabbed Lauren’s arm before she could intervene. Don’t worry—Ginia can hold her own.
Ha. I was going to rescue Lizard. Lauren’s mind was a little amused—and a boatload of guilty. I knew she was working too hard.
We all did. Jennie softened, watching the face-off between her thoroughly pissed delinquent and a nine-year-old healer. But Ginia’s got a point to make. We’ll be the second front and make sure it sticks tomorrow.
“We’re going to have help,” Lauren said softly. “Look at Elsie.”
Her other student was a picture of horrified guilt. Jennie nodded as Lizard, scowling, took another sip of the green goo. And worried. Elsie didn’t need any more projects.
Chapter 7
Jennie tucked the blanket around Melvin’s legs. “Stay warm this evening, okay? If you get sick, Elsie’s going to feel really bad for inviting you.” She wasn’t past using guilt to get him to take it easy for a bit.
He reached out to touch her cheek. “Do you really think my wife would let that happen?”
True. The woman who had sung on worldwide tour for four decades had a pervasive fear of germs and a well-developed tool chest to ward them off, magical and otherwise.
Melvin patted the seat beside him. “Come, sit and chat with me a while.”
Jennie frowned. His mind was looking for more than idle conversation, but he wasn’t the only elderly water-balloon fighter in the house. “I should go help Vero with the tea.”
“The day has not yet come when she will let you fuss over her.” Melvin touched his pendant. “Come—you’ve things to say about your students, and I’ve time to listen.”
It was no longer a request, polite though his words were—and the events of the afternoon were bouncing around her head. Jennie sat beside Melvin and searched for a place to begin. “They’re becoming friends, my two girls.”
“Yes.” Melvin handed her a frosted cookie from the plate at his elbow. “You can use that.”
“I’m worried about it, actually. I don’t want Elsie riding to Lizard’s rescue. That wouldn’t be good for either of them.”
“And you think it’s likely.” It wasn’t a question.
“Don’t you?” Jennie bit into her cookie, savoring the crunch of gingersnap. “Elsie’s mellowing, but she was awfully concerned about Lizard today.”
“Old patterns are hard to break, especially when love is involved.” Melvin tilted his head, thinking. “You need to show them new ways to care for each other. Ones that support their growth, instead of treading old ruts.”
Jennie listened, well aware she’d just been granted one of Melvin’s wise nuggets—and not at all sure what to do with it. “Any ideas on how I do that?”
Melvin looked off into the distance. “Why don’t you use a tripod when you take portraits?”
Twenty-five years together and he could still confuse the hell out of her. “Too rigid. I need the freedom to move the camera to where it needs to be. If I lock it into place, I always miss the best shots.”
“Indeed.” He smiled softly.
“Teach your students not to be tripods, then. Show them the difference between truly supporting someone and merely propping them up.”
Jennie paused, the truth of what he’d said sinking into her soul. When love was rigidly offered, the people you loved could miss their best moments. She reached out a hand in gratitude—he’d always been able to speak her language. “Elsie’s quite talented at propping up her own life. She would find it quite easy to extend that to others, I suspect.”
“Yes.” Melvin nodded. “Just like any of us, she’s going to need to experience truly flexible love before she can give it. The net is in place, but as long as she can find new things to keep her busy, she won’t ever make the leap. The time is coming, I think, when you’ll need to take away that which only props her up and encourage her to fall into those waiting arms.”
That sounded like the tough-love version of mentoring—and she had plenty of experience with Melvin’s version of it. “You think we’re being too gentle?”
“Not yet.” He stared off into the distance. “She needs to feel the love before it’s tested. That’s well underway, however, and soon enough, I think she’ll be ready to weather a tumble or two.” He grinned. “My wife won’t permit anything less. And neither will Helga.”
Truth. Elsie had acquired much more than she yet understood at Caro’s yarn shop. Women with knitting needles should never be underestimated.
Melvin sniffed the light touch of mint tea floating in from the kitchen. “Elsie’s not your only student who feels more comfortable being propped up.”
Jennie frowned, brain feeling a bit waterlogged.
He patted her knee. “Young women don’t work themselves to exhaustion in three days for no good reason.”
He was several steps ahead of her again. “And what do you think the reason is?”
“That’s the right question.” Melvin shrugged. “There are a number of possible answers, and I suspect figuring out which one fits best will bring you a good deal closer to solving Lizard.”
Jennie sighed. He always managed to leave her with a mystery.
~ ~ ~
Lauren frowned as Lizard angled toward the street heading to the office. “No chance, girl. I’m under strict instructions to take you home.” And no one in their right mind would cross Ginia today—not while she still had more of that green goo in her bag.
“I’ll go home right after I take care of a couple of things.” Lizard patted her belly. “I have lots of cookies in me, and I have stuff to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait until you sleep twelve hours.”
She felt Lizard’s mind rallying for a fight. “I can’t. I promised a client I’d write up an offer for him.”
Lauren felt her eyebrows winging up. “Why is this the first time I’ve heard of it? Which client?”
“He just came in this morning.” Lizard scowled. “I didn’t have a chance to talk with you about it yet. He wants to do a cash offer, and I have to look up how to do that. I was going to send you the paperwork after I finished so you could check it for me.”
Time to back up three steps. “Wait. You have a client who walked in the door this morning, cash in hand, and you’ve already found him a place?”
“Yeah.” Lizard had neatly steered them toward the office. “Good thing, too—I have an essay to write toni—“ She backpedaled when Lauren glared. “I mean, after I have a nice, long nap.”
Lauren grabbed her shoulders, stopping them both in the middle of the sidewalk. “You sold your first house?”
Lizard grinned. “Yeah. I think, anyhow. So long as he has real money and isn’t just making it up.”
“You’d have picked up on that.” Her assistant had a lifetime of experience with creeps. Lauren grabbed her elbow. “Okay, change of plans. I’ll help you with the cash-offer clause in the paperwork. Then we’ll go celebrate.” And talk about a few time-management skills.
Lizard was already resisting. “I don’t have time to celebrate.”
Lauren added mind-power weight and the image of green goo to her words. “Yes, you do.” She pulled open the office door. “So, tell me about this client.”
“He’s a guy. Young. Wants a family neighborhood. He liked the townhouse around the corner.”
It was a pretty typical Lizard rundown. And none of it explained the edge of unease in Lizard’s mind. “Did you show him anything else?”
“Nope. He fell in love.” Lizard shrugged. “I tried to show him at least a couple other things, but he said he’s a guy who makes up his mind quickly. I figure you don’t argue with a client who has buttloads of cash.”
Sometimes it was hard to believe her assistant had an SAT-busting vocabulary. Lauren didn’t bother to hide her grin. “We try to avoid phrasing it exactly that way around here.”
“He’s my age and he had a no-limit budget.” Lizard grinned. “What exactly do we call that around here?”
“It doesn’t come up a whole lot.” Lauren laughed and sat down at her desk. “If you pull up a contract, I’ll show you the cash-offer stuff. So what else did you learn about your client?”
“He likes grass, but not mowing, he talks to little kids, and he eats bacon for breakfast.” Lizard typed as she spoke. “And I think he wants to buy a skateboard.”
Which was all interesting, but still not explaining the really odd vibe coming from Lizard’s mind. It didn’t take a witch to put the pieces together. “Is he cute?”
“Yup.” Lizard hit the print button. “The little old lady next door is already trying to find him a wife.”
Lauren frowned. “He’s young, rich, cute, and you’re going to leave him to the little old lady?”
It took a moment for her question to sink in. Lizard looked up, her cheeks slightly pink. “He’s totally not my type.” Then she plunked papers down on the desk in front of Lauren. “Okay, show me this stuff so I can go make us three percent of buttloads of money.”
A smart negotiator knew when to retreat. But no way was this over yet. First she’d get some Romano’s linguine into her assistant and send her to bed. And then she’d start trying to figure out why Lizard was so sure she wasn’t the cute rich guy’s type. Because her mind was plenty interested—and utterly convinced his could never be.
~ ~ ~
Elsie had assumed Helga would want to go home and rest after her adventurous afternoon. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Helga was practically dragging her into Knit a Spell, Marion hot on their heels.
“I was a bit of a sensation, if I do say so myself,” Helga said, chortling happily. “And Marion looked rather fierce.”
“Hmmph.” The twinkle in Marion’s eye didn’t match her gruffness. “That small boy almost got one of my best bamboo circular needles wet.”
Jodi giggled, meeting them at the door. “Serves you right for taking weapons to a water fight.” She bounced her little guy. “You don’t listen to any of these silly ladies, sweet boy.”
“I learned a secret, though.” Helga cast her eyes around the shop and whispered conspiratorially to Jodi. “I think Miss Elsie here is a witch, just like Caro.”
Elsie blushed fifteen shades of pink. Somehow, in her great strategic plan, she’d managed to forget that her knitting ladies weren’t actually part of Witch Central. She snuck a look at Helga, wondering how on earth she was going to do damage control. Aervyn had ported, for heaven’s sake.
“Don’t you worry,” Marion said, poking her with a needle. “We know how to keep secrets. Especially if we get to come the next time you’re all having that much fun.”
Elsie stared at Jodi, wondering how the cat had been let so far out of the bag.
Jodi just rolled her eyes. “I can keep a secret too, and this little dude can’t talk yet.” She grinned. “Besides, my sister’s husband’s cousin’s uncle is a witch. He made pretty little fireballs once for Sammy to play with. Said he couldn’t help himself with the babies.”
Helga started winding a new ball of yarn. “So what kin
d of magic can you do, Elsie girl? Can you make me young and beautiful again? And watch out, you’re dropping stitches all over the place.”
Elsie looked down at her lap, feeling like she’d landed on an alien planet. One where nice ladies in the knitting shop casually discussed magic.
Marion lifted her knitting out of her hands. “You’ve got more dropped stitches than right ones, child. Have we taught you nothing?” Her competent hands started backtracking, fixing the mess Elsie’s jumpy fingers had created.
She suddenly felt like she could have turned herself into a toad and they would have just watched with interest and kept knitting. “Well, I have a little earth magic. Sometimes I can make a flower bloom or get a small plant to grow a bit faster.”
Jodi eyed the one straggly plant on Caro’s checkout counter. “You could start with that poor thing. Caro doesn’t exactly have a green thumb.”
Fire witches usually didn’t. Elsie looked at the sad little plant. “I think maybe it just needs water.”
“Doesn’t take a witch to figure that out, dear.” Helga rocked, chuckling. “What else can you do?”
Elsie took a deep breath and prayed this wouldn’t come back to haunt her. With careful control, she produced a small fireglobe on her palm and floated it out over Sammy’s face. As he reached for it, babbling in delight, she danced it gently just out of his reach.
“Is it hot?” Jodi asked in wonder and a little worry.
“No, just warm.” Elsie giggled as Sammy tried to clap the ball between his hands. “He’s fast!”
Jodi snickered. “Tell me about it. I’m toast once he actually learns to sit up and move around.”
It was taking every ounce of Elsie’s skill to keep the fireglobe out of Sammy’s questing fingers. She’d seen Jamie play this game with an older toddler—it was a lot harder than it looked.
Suddenly a second fireglobe hung in the air beside hers, dancing in time to Sammy’s squeals. “Let me guess—we’ve been busted.” Caro grinned at the happy baby. “Thirty years I’ve managed to own this store without public displays of magic.”
Witches Under Way Page 7