Sympathetic Magic (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 4)

by Christine Pope

  “Fine,” she said. “Maybe a little hungry.”

  It was a now a few minutes past two; she’d had some soup and crackers before she left Jerome, but the light lunch didn’t seem to be holding on very well. That could explain her current unsettled state.

  “Well, I have a nice dinner planned for us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get a snack while we’re out. I know just the place.”

  She forced a smile. “Sounds great.”

  They wound their way down through his neighborhood, so much more orderly and well-manicured than anything you’d see in Jerome, and on past that to a much larger street that went through a commercial area, with the sorts of chain stores she guessed were common to most medium-sized towns. It was of course much busier than Cottonwood, where she did the majority of her shopping, and even busier than Sedona, which was choked with tourists most of the time. And yet, in the grand scheme of things, Flagstaff wasn’t really that large a town. Out of curiosity, she’d looked it up once. Sixty thousand and some change. Nothing compared to Phoenix or Los Angeles or New York, but still an order of magnitude bigger than tiny Jerome.

  At least the downtown area, once they got there, felt more familiar, most likely because many of the buildings were of the same vintage as those in Jerome. She’d come up on Tuesday, to avoid the weekend crowds, but it still felt congested to her, and they ended up having to leave the BMW in a subterranean structure, as no street parking was available.

  “This way,” Lucas said, once they emerged on the street level.

  She noticed he was careful not to reach out and take her by the hand, but instead pointed in the direction they needed to go. At that moment, she actually would have welcomed his holding her hand, simply because the wind had picked up and had a definite bite to it, chilling her fingers. She’d brought gloves with her, but she hadn’t thought she would need them on a sunny afternoon. Flagstaff looked so much warmer than it actually was.

  But since they set a brisk pace, she found it wasn’t so bad, and before long they were taking a shortcut down an alley to a sort of outdoor mall with shops and restaurants. Lucas led her into the first restaurant, which turned out to be a tapas place, one Margot thought she’d heard Angela mention once or twice. The food had sounded delicious, but Margot had certainly never thought she would get the opportunity to eat there.

  It was a seat-yourself kind of establishment, so they chose a table by the window and sat down. At this time of day, after lunch but before happy hour, it was deserted except for the wait staff.

  “It’s two o’clock on a weekday,” Lucas said, dark eyes twinkling at her over the top of his menu. “Is that late enough for drinking sangria or not?”

  He really wasn’t ever going to let her live that remark down. “It’s afternoon,” she replied calmly, “so I think it’s safe. Although I do wonder why you’d want to drink something cold when it’s barely fifty degrees outside.”

  A quick grin. “Once you’ve had a glass, you’ll know why.”

  The waiter came over then, and Lucas ordered two glasses of sangria, along with some bacon-wrapped dates. “We’ll take it easy at first,” he told her, once the waiter had gone. “That’s the fun thing about tapas — you can just keep ordering different ones until you feel full.”

  “I thought you said you had something special planned for dinner.”

  “I do, so scratch the ‘full’ comment. Let’s go for ‘moderately satisfied.’”

  She could only shake her head at that, and watch as he poured her some water from the carafe on the table. Since she’d forgotten to bring along any bottled water for the drive, she was fairly thirsty at this point, and gratefully accepted the glass from him when he handed it to her.

  “I do appreciate you coming here, Margot,” he said then, his expression quite serious. “I know it’s a big step.”

  Was it? She’d been trying to play it safe, think of this as…what, a fact-finding mission? A way to step outside the boundaries she’d set for herself all these years? Not because she wanted to spend time with him. The thing was, she knew she did. She liked talking to him, especially if they weren’t sparring over her refusal to admit that an elder couldn’t be allowed much of a personal life.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Yes, she liked talking to him…but she also liked looking at him. Way, way more than she should. And she wasn’t going to let herself think about what it had been like to kiss him.

  “It’s — ” She’d been about to say that it was nothing, but they both knew that was a lie, didn’t they? “Thank you for having me.”

  In that moment, the gleam returned to his eyes, and she realized she’d stuck her foot in it with that comment. Yes, she was sure he would be more than glad to “have” her.

  To her relief, the waiter came back with their glasses of sangria in that moment, and Margot was able to cover her embarrassment by taking a long sip of the drink through its straw. Lucas hadn’t been exaggerating; it was marvelous. Who cared that it was more hot chocolate weather outside?

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  I think I’ve been missing out my whole life. Of course she would never say such a thing out loud, so she only replied, “It’s amazing.”

  “I hope Flagstaff will continue to amaze you.”

  She had a feeling it would, if Lucas Wilcox had anything to do about it.

  * * *

  There was something slightly surreal about being here and realizing it was Margot Emory sitting opposite him, right in the middle of his hometown, smack in the center of Wilcox territory…and that she didn’t look out of place at all. He loved watching her, seeing the way her dark hair slipped over her shoulders, watching the way the little amulet at her throat — was that Angela’s work? — twinkled in the light.

  She looked like she belonged here. And God, did he want her to belong here. Hadn’t Jerome had enough of her already?

  “…around here?” she was saying, and Lucas blinked.

  “Sorry, what?”

  Her dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he wondered if she could guess what he had been thinking. He hoped not; he was trying the best he could to be casual and suave about all this, and let her form her own conclusions…make her own decisions. “I was asking if Connor’s gallery is around here.”

  “Actually, it is.” Lucas pointed at the window in the direction of the alley. “That brick building there with the green door? The gallery is in the front half on the ground floor, and then his apartment was the one directly above on the right. The other apartment he used as his studio. It’s still empty because it needs a lot of renovation before it’s fit for actual occupation.”

  “So he can rent it out to another cousin?”

  “Probably,” he replied, somewhat surprised she knew that much of the arrangements they’d made. Then again, Margot was an elder, and so Angela must have consulted with her a good bit as to her plans.

  “Makes sense,” Margot remarked. “I’m guessing you must have a goodly number of cousins who need lodging.”

  “A fair number.” Actually, he’d never really stopped to count, but there were hundreds and hundreds of Wilcoxes in the Flagstaff area. Marie was the one who really kept track of that sort of thing. “I’d imagine those sorts of logistics would even be harder in Jerome.”

  A rueful smile touched her mouth before she sipped some more sangria. “”That’s an understatement. There’s not a lot of real estate to go around, obviously. It’s led to people being pretty fanatical about their wills, just so there’s no confusion when it comes time for a property to be handed down.” She paused, her expression faraway and a little sad. Lucas wondered if she was thinking about her own single state, and who her own cottage might go to someday. But then she straightened in her chair and added, “We’ve managed, though. Our territory is nowhere big as yours, of course, but there’s still plenty of room for us to spread out in Cottonwood and Clarkdale and Camp Verde.”

  “Or Prescott,” Lucas ventured, then wanted to
kick himself. Wasn’t her asshole of an ex-fiancé from Prescott?

  If he hadn’t been watching for it, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the slight hesitation before she said, “Yes, there’s a small branch of the family over there, too.”

  The waiter came by with the bacon-wrapped dates then, and Lucas tried to prevent himself from letting out a sigh of relief at the welcome interruption. He waited as Margot selected a date and put it on her own small plate, then took one for himself. Her reaction was all he could have hoped for; she carefully cut the morsel in half, then put one piece in her mouth. Almost at once, her dark lashes swept down over her eyes as she appeared to savor the bite.

  “Good?”

  “That’s — ” She broke off, seeming to consider the perfect word to use, and said, “Decadent.”

  That sounded about right to him. “Yes, they are that.”

  The two of them were quiet for a minute or two, demolishing the rest of the dates in short order. Margot’s glass of sangria was about three-quarters gone, while Lucas knew he was about to start making rude noises with his straw if he attempted to get any more out of the bottom of his glass.

  “Another one?” he asked.

  “I think I’m good,” she replied. “We’re going to be walking a good bit, so it’s probably better if I’m not completely tipsy.”

  Actually, he thought the extra bit of muscle relaxant might do her some good, but he knew better than to tell her that. “Anything else you’d like to eat?”

  She smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, one without any irony or sarcasm in it. “No, that was perfect. Just enough to take the edge off. Thank you.”

  It definitely had taken the edge off. She seemed more relaxed now, not so worried about what he had planned or what was coming next. He took that as a good sign. So he signaled the waiter that they were ready for the check, and within a few minutes, they were back outside, the fresh breeze playing with the ends of Margot’s hair, making her push it back impatiently.

  “We can cut down this alley,” Lucas said, leading her to the narrow lane that separated Connor’s building from the restaurant across from the tapas place.

  She followed him, looking around with some interest, although truthfully, there wasn’t that much to see. It could be a little awkward in here if someone decided to come this way in their car, but luckily they made it through without incident, and veered to the left so they could enter the gallery.

  Joelle was working, of course, and called out a “hi” to Lucas he came inside. Her gaze slid questioningly toward Margot, and he said hastily, “Joelle, this is Margot Emory. She’s a cousin of Angela’s.”

  “Oh, hi — nice to meet you!” Joelle chirped. She tended to be cheery all the time, which made things easier for Connor, as he wasn’t exactly what you could call a good salesman. Although Joelle was a civilian, she knew there was something slightly different about the Wilcox family, although of course she didn’t have many details. But she knew enough to realize that Lucas Wilcox having a cousin of Angela’s as his companion was kind of a big deal.

  “I’m just showing her around a bit,” he explained, hoping she would get the hint and not be too inquisitive.

  “Oh, sure, take a look around. Connor’s not coming in today — I’m sure he’ll be sorry that he missed you.”

  “It’s fine,” Lucas said hastily. The last thing he wanted was interruptions from any of his relatives, even one as hands-off as Connor. “I talked to him the day before yesterday.” Which was sort of a non sequitur, but it did seem to get Joelle to back off.

  “Great,” she responded, and went back to knotting tiny price tags on threads, no doubt gearing up to prepare a new collection of local artisanal jewelry for the holiday buying season.

  In the meantime, Margot had wandered a few paces away and was studying an abstract sculpture of dichroic glass and brazed brass tubing. From what he’d seen on the gallery walk with her, it didn’t seem to be her kind of thing. He approached her and said, “Like it?”

  She tipped her head to one side, her attention seeming to be completely focused on the piece. “I’m not sure yet. I’m trying to decide whether I do or not. It’s interesting, though.”

  “Connor’s trying to branch out, I think.” There wasn’t much more Lucas could say on the subject, as art — modern or otherwise — was not his field of expertise.

  “It’s a very nice gallery,” she said. “Intimate, but not crowded. A good use of space.”

  “I’ll pass your compliments on to Connor,” Lucas said with a wry smile.

  Her eyebrows went up, and then she gave a small laugh. “Oh, I suppose that sounds as if I was critiquing it or something. I just meant that it’s very nice.”

  “‘Nice’ works.”

  They spent another five minutes or so poking around, and then he led her back outside, where the afternoon had started to look somewhat darker. Clouds were beginning to pile up to the northeast, moving their way.

  “Is it going to rain?” Margot asked, following his gaze.

  “I doubt it. Nothing’s been forecast. But I was thinking about taking you up to the observatory, so we might as well head straight there in case it gets too cloudy to see anything.”

  She nodded, and followed him as he led her back to the parking structure. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to the weather, except to make sure he’d have a clear day for playing golf. Now, though, he cast a wary eye toward the sky, and wondered if Mother Nature had decided to throw a monkey wrench into his plans.

  Then again, if the weather did get really bad, he could think of worse things than being trapped in his house with Margot Emory for a few days….

  8

  The whole time they were at Lowell Observatory, the clouds moved in slowly, inexorably. It stayed dry, however, and since they were really there to tour the grounds and see a couple of the presentations, it didn’t matter much that the day had become so overcast. Lucas had told her the staff at Lowell did solar observations right at noon, but since they’d gotten to the site sometime after four, that didn’t affect Lucas and Margot’s plans.

  Afterward, they drove back to his house. It was now past six-thirty, and the sun had already set. Margot was somewhat surprised that they hadn’t headed back downtown for dinner, but she decided to roll with it. After all, Lucas had told her he had something special planned for dinner, so he obviously knew what he was doing. Maybe he did expect her to change so they could go back out someplace that required a bit more dressing up than jeans and a sweater, although from what she’d seen so far today, the populace of Flagstaff rivaled Jerome’s in terms of utter casualness. She’d noticed that Lucas had sent a text right before they got in the car to leave the observatory parking lot; maybe he was confirming a reservation or something.

  They pulled into the driveway, and she immediately saw the white van parked off to one side, where it wouldn’t block any of the garage bays. “Friend of yours?” she inquired, nodding toward the vehicle.

  “Something like that,” he said easily. “You’ll see.”

  He pulled into the garage and turned off the engine, and they both got out and headed into the house. When they entered the kitchen, Margot stopped dead in shock. A man and a woman were at work there, putting together what clearly looked like quite an elaborate dinner.

  “Lucas?” she asked.

  He grinned. “I said I had something special planned for dinner. I thought it would be more fun to eat in, but as I didn’t want to poison you, I had Jeff and Claire come in to do the heavy lifting.”

  “Good call,” the man — Jeff — said. “Considering he can barely fry an egg.” He returned his attention to Lucas and added, “Give us about fifteen minutes.”

  “No problem.”

  Somewhat bemused, Margot followed Lucas out of the kitchen and past the dining room, where she saw the table had already been set with gleaming warm-toned china and glittering crystal. She looked up at him. “You do think of everything, don’t
you?”

  “I try to.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, but went on, “We have a little time. I don’t expect you to dress for dinner or anything, but if you want to freshen up a bit — ”

  “I do.” Actually, she thought dressing for dinner sounded like a good idea. That table was far too elegant for jeans and a simple sweater. “I’ll be back down in few minutes.”

  “Sounds good.”

  As she went up the stairs, she wondered if changing would make it look as if she were trying too hard. After all, Lucas seemed to be fine with staying in his own jeans and sweater. But she’d packed those dresses, and she figured she might as well get some use out of them.

  Fifteen minutes actually went by fairly quickly when you had to change your entire outfit, touch up your makeup, brush your hair, and give everything a once-over before heading back downstairs. Margot eyed herself quickly, hoping she didn’t look too “done.” But it wasn’t as if she’d put on a cocktail dress or something — she wore a black maxi dress with some color around the neck and hem, a necklace of coral and turquoise resting on her collarbone. Her boots did have heels, but they weren’t strappy sandals, and so she hoped Lucas would take her effort for what it was, which was wanting to look nice at dinner but not in anything overtly sexy.

  Amazing smells were drifting up from the kitchen as she descended the stairs once more, and she entered the dining room to find Lucas opening a bottle of wine. As he looked up from the wine, she could see his dark eyes glow with admiration. So much for being low-key about dressing up.

  He didn’t say anything at first, however, as if sensing that a compliment was not something she’d welcome in that moment. Once he had the cork extricated from the bottle, he did remark, “Perfect timing. Claire and Jeff are just about ready. Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat?” He pointed at the chair immediately to the right of the one at the head of the table.

  “They’re not going to serve us, are they?” she asked, thinking that was expecting a bit much.