2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office

by Christina A. Burke

  Carol gave me a big smile. "Howdy, partner!" Her enthusiasm for our new business bordered on obsessive.

  "Hey, have you ever seen that woman before?" I asked Carol, pointing to the retreating figure of Mrs. Kester through the window.

  Carol craned her neck. "Sure," she said. "I see her going into Spellbound a couple times a week."

  "Really?" I replied in amazement. What would Mrs. Kester be doing in Spellbound? I'm sure it wasn't for the candles.

  "Why?" Carol asked.

  "That's my awful neighbor."

  "Mrs. Kester?" Carol asked. She had heard all the Kester stories over the years. A few of them involved me being late for a temp assignment because of her.

  I nodded.

  Carol made a face. "From the way you described her, I'd have thought she was older and had a hook nose or something. She looks like a nice lady."

  "Don't let her sweet, old lady looks fool you," I said. "There's a monster behind that knit sweater."

  Carol laughed. "Maybe we should go see Sybil and find out. I've been wanting to pick up a good luck charm for our new venture."

  I made it a point to avoid Spellbound. The few times I'd been in, Sybil, the owner, had told me my aura was cloudy and tried to sell me some incense. "I'm not sure I want to know that badly. I thought you had errands to run?"

  Carol made a tsking sound. "Oh, come on. I've got a few minutes. Let's go find out what the old bat was up to." Carol grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Hey, maybe she can give you a love potion. Get you and Mark back on track."

  I followed reluctantly. Love potion, hah! Truth potion was more like it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Spellbound catered to an eclectic crowd. Witches, new-agers, and pot heads wandered the dusty aisles in search of one-of-a-kind ingredients, magical crystals, and bongs in all shapes and sizes. The smell of incense and patchouli soap hung heavy in the air. Sybil smiled as we entered.

  "Hi Carol," she called. "How's business?"

  "Pretty exciting," Carol said and gave Sybil the short version of our path to business ownership. "I'd like something special to bring us luck in this new venture," she added.

  Sybil snapped her ring-laden fingers. "I have just the thing." She turned around to search the shelves behind her.

  I took the opportunity to do some detective work. "Sybil, that lady who was just here," I began.

  "Oh, Mrs. Kester. She's a dear," said Sybil, as she dug through a box.

  "Yeah," I agreed, "a real dear. Anyway, she's a friend, and I thought I might get her something special. Anything in here you could suggest?"

  Sybil set the box down on the counter to think. "Well, she buys a lot of specialty spells. Some are pretty strange, even to me," she added, winking.

  "Strange, how?" I asked. This ought to be good.

  "The poor dear has a lot of trouble with her neighbors. I think she's in a building with a lot of young, party-types. She's been buying spells to drive them out of the building. There's one girl in particular that must have a heck of an aura, because nothing's working." Sybil shook her head.

  Carol gave me a warning look.

  I could feel the steam rising in my face. "Don't you think it's a little unethical to give her spells that hurt people?"

  Sybil looked as though she'd never considered that before. "Well, they certainly wouldn't hurt anyone. Maybe cause an occasional inconvenience." She leaned in to take a closer look at me. "You know your aura is really cloudy. I wish you'd let me give you a clearing potion."

  I remembered Roger and Phil's insistence that I was cursed with bad juju. "You know what, Sybil?" I said. "I'll take whatever you've got. Give me the works!"

  Sybil clapped her hands together. "Oh, I'm so glad! I've wanted to do this forever."

  By the time she was done with us, we had a Lucky Cat for the office, guaranteed to bring us good fortune in our new venture, and I had a necklace, a candle, some feathers, and a container of bath salts. Sybil assured me my aura was looking better already as we waved goodbye.

  "I need to get home soon," I said to Carol as I sniffed the candle and admired the necklace.

  She positioned the Lucky Cat on the main counter. I thought it looked hokey, but if it made Carol happy, then it was okay with me. "I'll run to the bank as soon as I check the messages."

  A few minutes later she made a squealing noise and hung up the phone. "Oh my!" she cried.

  "What?"

  "That was a call from Personal Products, Inc. Their regular temporary contractor went bankrupt, and they're looking for a new service," she said excitedly. "Do you know how big that account is?"

  I shrugged. I hadn't a clue.

  "They use hundreds of light industrial temps. More than Harris Manufacturing. This could be a couple million dollars a year in sales," Carol said, adding with determination, "I want this account."

  I'd never seen Carol quite this fired up. "Then let's get it."

  "They want to meet Monday. Is your schedule open?"

  "Sure, Monday's good for me."

  While Carol hurried out to get her errands done, I filed new employee records and answered a couple of phone calls. I had a solid hour of reflection time. Being in the office reminded me of my new position as a business owner. It felt good to be both stable and working for myself. Being a full-time musician was very entrepreneurial, but not something that felt particularly stable. This felt solid. So why, now that I had a big girl job that didn't appear to interfere with my rising rock star career, and I had a man I was crazy about, did I feel so lonely?

  * * *

  I looked longingly at McGlynn's as I raced passed the door. My mom had just called; she was minutes away from my condo with Granddaddy and Uncle Grover in tow, and Granddaddy needed to use the facilities. I knew from previous experiences with Granddaddy and his bladder that any old flower bush would do. I didn't need any more hexes on me from Mrs. Kester, and watering her flower bushes would surely enough do it.

  There were two vehicles waiting in front of my condo. My mom's car and Rick's truck. No, not today!

  My mom stepped out of her car and held up a hand. "Don't start," she ordered. "Rick offered to hang out with those two—" She indicated Uncle Grover and Granddaddy sitting in the back seat. "—while you perform this evening."

  "I'm not sure this is better. Now I have three of them to worry about," I argued.

  Rick's window was down. "Hey! I heard that," he called.

  I walked up to this truck window and pointed a finger at him. "Good! Because we are not getting back together. And don't give me your 'long view' argument either."

  Rick smiled. "I'm just trying to help out since I'm in town anyway, Diana. Besides, I like hanging out with your family."

  I looked at him like he was crazy. "Well, if you like my family so much that you want to be a part of it, don't think it's going to be through me. Aunt Pearl and Mammaw are single, go bug them."

  I whirled around and stalked off towards the front door. I could hear Rick's laughter behind me. My lips twitched involuntarily at the thought of him wooing Aunt Pearl. I saw Mrs. Kester's curtains flutter and prayed it was just a stray breeze. I didn't need a run-in with her today.

  I dug around in my purse for the charm necklace. Sybil had assured me it would protect me from spells and brighten my aura. I slipped the necklace over my head as I reached for the door knob.

  "Wait up there, Queenie Baby!" Granddaddy called from behind. "I cain't move as fast as I used to with my bad hip."

  I turned around to watch Granddaddy shuffle quickly up the walkway. Amazing, really, considering he had been in the hospital just a few short weeks ago. Maybe jerky really did cure what ails you, as he always insisted.

  Beside him, Uncle Grover moved elegantly down the walkway like it was a red carpet. Uncle Grover always reminded me of a black and white movie actor, faded, but polished and precise. Rick and my mom followed with the bags.

  Mrs. Kester's door flew open as my foot touched th
e landing. "You're allowing that man back?" she asked, pointing an accusing finger at Granddaddy.

  "He's my grandfather, Mrs. Kester. I can't exactly ban him from my home." Even if I wanted to, I silently added.

  Granddaddy glared at Mrs. Kester. "Shut yer pie hole, you old bat. You've given my granddaughter enough grief. You'd better watch yer ways, or I'll put a stink eye on you," Granddaddy threatened.

  I gave him a push up the stairs.

  Mrs. Kester gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

  Rick peeked his head around the corner.

  "You!" Mrs. Kester cried. She pointed a finger at Rick. "That man was drunk on my doorstep and disturbing the peace."

  Rick looked sheepish. "I am sorry about that, ma'am. I was having a bad day."

  She seemed to appreciate the apology, or maybe she was enjoying getting attention from a tall, dark, and handsome man.

  "I was love sick," he added.

  I glared at him.

  "Well, I'm sure it was all her fault," Mrs. Kester sniffed, pointing a boney finger at me. Didn't anyone ever teach her it wasn't polite to point?

  I sputtered, but before I could respond, Uncle Grover stepped forward. "Madam, we've not been formally introduced. I am Garfield Grover." He offered his hand to Mrs. Kester.

  She eyed him suspiciously but took his hand after a moment's hesitation.

  "Might I say you have a lovely flowerbed? I wonder—after we're all settled in, of course—if you'd mind giving me a little tour?" Uncle Grover added.

  "Well, I suppose I could," Mrs. Kester said, taking her hand slowly back.

  "Splendid!" Uncle Grover exclaimed. "I will call on you in an hour."

  Mrs. Kester nodded, looking a little dazed, and closed her door.

  "What a treasure! Such lovely eyes," Uncle Grover cried.

  We all looked at him.

  "Are you feeling okay, Uncle Grover?" I asked.

  "Never better," he replied as he skipped up the stairs to my condo.

  "Love happens when you least expect it," my mom said with a nod of her fluffy blond head.

  "Don't start. Either of you." I wagged my finger back and forth.

  Sally and Max danced excitedly around the room as we entered, sniffing and licking their way through the guests. Sally ferreted out a piece of jerky inside Granddaddy's shirt pocket, and a brief scuffle ensued. Granddaddy won, but not before they'd knocked over a plant. Rick offered to take the dogs for a walk, and my mom helped get the bags into my bedroom. She gave me a hug, told me not to be too thick-headed, and made a quick getaway.

  I tuned the TV to a sports show, handed Granddaddy a beer and Grover a glass of sweet tea, and poured myself a glass of wine.

  I needed to get dressed and head out for the Fair. I played my first set at six. I sipped my wine and wondered what was taking Rick so long. Not that I wanted him here, but at least he was helping.

  I glanced out the window. Rick was standing on the sidewalk chatting with an attractive red head in tight black pants and an electric red top. His comments about not sitting home alone crossed my mind. I gave an inward shrug. I could care less about who he talked to. Even if the woman did look like a bimbo.

  He waved goodbye and headed up the front walk. I made myself busy cleaning up the kitchen and setting out food for the dogs.

  Sally bounded in the door first, straining at the leash in her attempt to ambush Granddaddy for jerky. Rick held her back. Max waited patiently for me to unleash him.

  "Met a new friend?" I asked as I bent down to take care of Max.

  He glanced out the window at the retreating redhead. "Jealous?" he asked with a grin.

  I glared up at him. "At that?" I hooked a finger towards the window.

  He laughed. "You're jealous."

  I made no comment. "Leave her on the leash so she doesn't eat Max's food," I said, as I motioned him into the kitchen.

  "Just to put your mind at ease…" he began.

  I shot him a look.

  "…she was asking about the empty condo downstairs. What the area's like and all that."

  The condo on the first floor had been for sale for almost six months. The previous tenant, a sweet old lady, had passed away last year. The family had been trying to sell the unit ever since. I was pretty sure Mrs. Kester put a hex on the unit so no one would buy it. If she had her way, the whole building would be vacant.

  "Hmmm…seemed like a pretty long conversation for just checking on the neighborhood."

  He smiled and leaned on the counter. "We talked about the Renaissance Fair. She's in town for that. I told her that you're a performer. She seemed really interested," he added, opening my refrigerator and nosing around inside.

  Granddaddy looked over. "Got the last beer," he called. "You'd think my granddaughter would've prepared for my visit."

  "You don't need to drink beer. It's not good for you," I shot back.

  "I'm old enough to drink what I want an' eat what I want. Say there, Rick, got any more of that deer jerky?"

  I shook my head as Rick pulled out a plastic bag from his jacket.

  "Got to keep the troops happy," he said with a wink.

  I handed Rick the bottle of wine and excused myself to get ready. Uncle Grover called out that he hoped I wouldn't be too long as he had some "preparations to make" before his "date."

  Granddaddy called him a pansy, and a fight would've broken out if Rick hadn't intervened.

  In that moment, I was thankful for Rick. I wasn't happy he was here, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, as my mom always said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Being Sleepy Beauty isn't all it's cracked up to be, even at a Renaissance Fair. I left my condo wearing a swirl of blue satin and tulle, my long blonde hair flat ironed into fairy princess spun gold, and Rick's appreciative whistle in my ears. I knew I should've walked, but it was a good mile from my condo, and I didn't want to walk home at night lugging my guitar the whole way.

  It took twenty minutes to land a parking space and another five to realize I had forgotten to bring quarters. A group of young guys, already a dozen beers into celebrating, offered me some change. They couldn't stop joking about "rescuing a damsel in distress." Then on the long walk down to the docks, I was stopped by a variety of knights, knaves, and peasants all, it seemed, with the sole purpose of landing a fairy princess for the night.

  I stopped to catch my breath one block from the main stage at Dock Street. I checked the time. Ten minutes to show time. I went on around the middle of the show, so I still had an hour. A flash of red off to my left caught my eye. A woman dressed in a stunning black and red satin gown with a low cut bodice showing ample cleavage was drawing quite a few admirers. I watched as she gave one guy the finger and seemed to threaten another with something under her skirt. Which really didn't help her situation much.

  I felt her pain. It wasn't easy being a princess around here.

  I carted my guitar across the busy intersection amid catcalls and lewd comments. I promised myself a stiff drink once I checked in with the show organizers. The stage area in front of the docks was teaming with people: some dressed in medieval garb and some as tourists. The first act was starting when I finally tracked down the harried producer. I also let her know that I would be performing with two acts entered in the talent show tomorrow. She checked her iPad to confirm their registrations; sure enough Mr. Pyres and Carlos and The Brethren Band were on the list.

  I watched the first performance from the side stage while tuning my guitar. A flash of red caught my eye in the crowd. The woman I'd seen on the street was now moving through the audience. She seemed to be looking for someone.

  My phone buzzed with a text.

  Rick: Having a beer at McGlynn's with Granddaddy. Be there in fifteen minutes.

  Me: On my way. Order me a martini.

  McGlynn's was back the way I'd come, and two blocks over. But it was worth the walk if I had a drink waiting for me. No telling how long it'd take me to get served at
one of the bars near the stage. Even dressed as Sleeping Beauty.

  After a hot and hurried walk, I breathed a thankful sigh at the dark, cool interior of McGlynn's. The tulle and satin was already starting to get itchy.

  "Lady Di in the house," Woody called from behind the bar. "Or should I say Princess Di?"

  Woody had been the bartender at McGlynn's for as long as I'd been playing the bar scene in Annapolis. He made sure I always had regular gigs there and kept the drunks from harassing me during my sets. He was easy-going but didn't like to be reminded about his namesake from Cheers.

  "My favorite character was Norm," I heard Granddaddy say as I approached.

  I groaned inwardly and gave Woody a wave. "Long time no see," I called back.

  "I hear you made the big-time in Puerto Rico. Does this mean you're too famous to play at McGlynn's?" he joked.

  "Never!" I cried as I took a sip of the perfectly prepared martini sitting in front of the empty barstool between Rick and Granddaddy.

  I gave Granddaddy a hug and asked Rick about Uncle Grover's whereabouts.

  "His date with Mrs. Kester was going well, so he didn't want to leave," Rick replied, taking a sip of his beer. "They're having tea at her place." He grinned.

  Unbelievable. She must have put a love spell on poor Uncle Grover.

  "I wouldn't touch that old bat with a ten foot pole if'n ya paid me," Granddaddy announced. "Fool's gonna ketch a bad case of the uglies." Granddaddy shivered.

  I agreed but kept quiet. I needed to have a private talk with Uncle Grover.

  "How's it going for you so far?" Rick asked.

  I shrugged. "Being a fairy princess attracts a lot of frogs. Especially at intersections."

  Rick nodded. "I can see that."

  I turned to Rick. "I want to thank you for helping out with The Grands. I do appreciate it."

  "No problem. They're good people, even if they're a handful."

  I took another sip of my drink and thought about how Rick was here—dependable, stable, supportive—and Mark was somewhere "tying up lose ends" with the CIA and Marsha. For a moment I wished I could love Rick again. The way I did when I was a teenager. I was physically attracted to him. No doubt about that, I thought, glancing over at his thick, dark hair and strong, work-hardened hands. I just didn't feel the butterflies or that warm mushy feeling I felt with Mark.