Witches and Wedding Cake

by Bailey Cates

  I wasn’t the only one who had a connection to the paranormal. Declan wasn’t a witch, mind you, but a spirit had attached himself to my fiancé at the moment of his birth. Most of his life he’d been unaware of how Connell had guided him, essentially serving as a strong sense of intuition and the occasional kick in the pants. When Connell had made himself known, Declan had a hard time with it for a while but eventually came to accept that Connell was a part of him.

  A few weeks before, Connell had saved me from a powerful hex, but had become disconnected from Declan in the process. I’d had my issues with Connell, who was loud and brash but also kind and protective. It wasn’t until he’d vowed not to take over Declan’s body at inopportune times—like in the bedroom—that we’d finally set the wedding date. Now Connell was gone. I missed him. However much Declan tended to keep those kinds of feelings to himself, I knew he missed Connell exponentially more. Worse yet, he’d had a close call during a house fire on his last shift, a dangerous situation that I firmly believed his guardian spirit would have guided him away from.

  I couldn’t help but worry.

  Loaded with enough baked goods to feed an army, Randy and Declan left. I returned to the kitchen to let Lucy know what we’d decided.

  “That sounds good, dear. The strawberry will make a nice addition, and I agree that eight flavors might be a bit much.”

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I drew it out. “Great.” I shook my head and held the phone out to my aunt. “Eliza just texted me.”

  Her bemused expression turned to one of alarm as she read the text out loud. “‘I need to speak with you. Can you come to the house?’ Oh, dear. What on earth can that be about?”

  “Don’t worry. She’s probably fretting about yet another aspect of the wedding where we’re breaking with tradition.” Declan’s oldest sister was not shy about sharing her opinions, of which she had an abundance. “So far, she’s unhappy that we’re getting married so late in the evening, that the party will start before the actual wedding, then pause for the ceremony, and that Mungo will be my ring bearer. Oh, and she hates that we’re renting all those mismatched antique chairs instead of tidy folding chairs for people to sit on. Who knows what else she’s taken issue with?”

  Lucy made a face. “Sisters can be difficult.”

  I snorted. “Well, I know exactly who you mean.” Lucy and my mother had gone through some strained times over the years. “But as an only child, I’m new to the whole sister, or rather sister-in-law, dynamic.”

  “Better figure it out, niece o’ mine.” She grinned. “Since your beloved comes complete with four of them.”

  “At least Aggie’s been great.” Declan’s mother preferred Aggie to Agnes, and the nickname suited her. She was a strong though easygoing woman, and I’d been afraid she might try to muscle in on the wedding plans at the last minute. However, she’d merely offered her help when needed and timely words of encouragement when I’d thought I might lose my mind before actually saying I do.

  My aunt made a shooing motion. “You’ve been summoned. Better go before the afternoon rush kicks in.”

  I wrinkled my nose and untied my apron. “I’ll get online when I get back. There’s got to be someone who can marry us on such short notice.”

  “That’s the spirit,” my aunt said.

  Barely managing not to roll my eyes, I said, “I won’t be long. The house the McCarthys are renting for the week is over by Chippewa Square.”

  I added my apron to those that hung from the row of pegs on the back wall of the kitchen and continued to the office. Mungo raised his head and watched with bright interest as I slid my cell phone into the side pocket of my tote bag.

  What the heck. Why not? Never mind that Eliza didn’t appear to care for dogs.

  “You want to come with? Declan’s sister wants to ‘speak with me.’”

  Mungo’s nose wrinkled much in the same way mine had. However, he sat up and wagged his short tail, game to accompany me.

  “Thanks, buddy. I could use the support.”

  Yip!

  On the way out, I grabbed a pastry bag stamped with our logo of an orange-striped cat and filled it with cookies and glazed fritters. Uncle Ben looked up as I moved toward the front door of the bakery, a question in his eyes. I smiled and sketched a wave. Lucy would tell him where I’d gone. I ignored the feeling that Steve was watching from the other side of the room as I opened the door and stepped out to Broughton Street.

  Chapter 2

  With the air conditioning blasting, I guided my Volkswagen Beetle through the famous squares of the Savannah Historic District and a few minutes later turned onto the block where Declan’s mother had rented a house for the week. These days Aggie lived in Boston, but she’d raised her family in Savannah, and she, along with Eliza and Declan’s youngest sister, Rori, had arrived a week early to spend extra time on their old stomping grounds.

  Declan had landed smack in the middle of his sisters, birth-order-wise. On either side of him were Camille and Lauren, both of whom were married and would be arriving in a couple of day with their families, so only his oldest and youngest siblings were already in residence. Aggie might be a gem of a future mother-in-law, but I was still deciding what kind of sister-in-law Eliza would be.

  Try to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’ll be less judgmental after the wedding.

  Maybe.

  “Wonder what she’d have to say if she knew I’m a witch, and you’re my familiar,” I murmured to Mungo, who was sitting in my tote bag, strapped into the passenger seat beside me.

  Yip!

  Smiling, I adjusted the sprigs of holy basil and lemon balm that I’d arranged in the tiny bud vase attached to the dash of the Bug. Each was excellent for promoting calm, and together they made a pretty little nosegay as well. Lately I would take as much calm and pretty as I could get.

  A car pulled out of a parking space across the street from the McCarthy family rental. Thanking my parking karma, I quickly guided my little car into it. Killing the engine, I sat in the cool metal bubble of the Bug for a few moments to gather my thoughts—and my resolve.

  No matter what complaint Eliza has this time, I’m going to be pleasant yet firm.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened my door and stepped onto the street. Going around to the other side, I retrieved my tote with Mungo inside and marched toward the two-story, wrought-iron-embellished property where I’d been summoned.

  A sign that read WISTERIA HOUSE was affixed to the brick exterior by the paneled wooden door. The sidewalk in front was also made of bricks, arranged in a neat herringbone pattern. Six red cement steps led up to the ornate entrance. I passed beneath the live oaks dripping with Spanish moss and began climbing them. A movement to my right drew my attention. A bearded man was using handheld shears to trim the boxwood that separated the yard from the one next to it. He wore a white jumpsuit in the stifling heat, but he looked so cool and serene as he evened out the top of the hedge that I pegged him as a native Savannahian. He looked up, and I nodded to him. He nodded back and returned to his task.

  Large pots filled with annuals flanked the door. Admiring the petunias, verbena, and variegated sweet potato vine, I rang the bell and waited. The sun blazed down on my shoulders, and I welcomed the warmth after a morning spent inside. I closed my eyes and turned my face up to soak in more.

  A soft whirring sound reached my ears. I opened my eyes and saw dozens of delicate dragonflies descend around me. There were tiny ones the size of my thumbnail ranging to larger ones nearly three inches across. Their multicolored, iridescent hues glinted and flashed in the sunlight. They perched on the edges of petals, leaves, unopened buds, and along the rims of planters. They lined up along the wrought-iron railing and clung to the brick wall. One even landed on my tote bag until Mungo nosed it, and it launched off, only to land on the sign by the door.

&nbs
p; Dragonflies. So many dragonflies.

  Uh-oh.

  Dragonflies were my totem. I’d come to learn that often when I saw a dragonfly, it was a kind of metaphysical tap on the shoulder. A reminder to pay attention. Now, to be sure, I often noticed the ubiquitous little creatures, also known as mosquito hawks, here and there. They certainly zinged around the backyard of the carriage house in droves when mosquito season was in full swing—a piece of luck that enabled evenings on the patio to be quite pleasant without having to use chemicals to keep the biting insects at bay. However, sometimes dragonflies meant something more.

  Like when they showed up out of nowhere in large numbers.

  My hand crept up, and I rubbed my eyes. When I opened them, the beautiful insects were still there. In the tote, Mungo made a rawr sound. I reached down and ran my thumb along the fur between his ears.

  “I know. I see them,” I said, and suppressed a sigh.

  Footsteps sounded, and the door swung open to reveal a petite woman dressed in a gauzy white sundress. With her dark wavy hair and ice blue eyes, this sister resembled Declan the most. However, she had a delicate, heart-shaped face rather than his square jawline and was about a foot shorter than my fiancé.

  “Hi, Rori.” I held the bag out to her.

  Her face lit up. “Oh, yay! Goodies!” She waved me inside with an urgent gesture. “Hurry. We just got it decently cool in here.” Her words were rounded with a gentle Southern accent.

  I stepped over the threshold, and she quickly shut the door behind me. The chilled air inside the house was a marked contrast to the sun-drenched front step, and Mungo huffed his approval. I set my tote down on the floor. He hopped out but didn’t venture more than a few steps.

  Aggie had obviously chosen the place for comfort and elegance. The walls of the rooms I could partially see from the foyer were painted in dark rich tones—indigo in the living room, forest green in the dining room, burnt sienna in the kitchen—while the high ceilings were lighter colored. The furniture was a mix of periods, but all in dark wood and with an abundance of cushions. A gardenia plant on the entry table filled the air with its strong perfume, reminding me of my grandmother. The mirror on the wall above the table reflected the light from the windows on either side of the door, giving the space a bright, welcoming atmosphere.

  After a quick hug, Rori stepped back and blew the bangs off her forehead. “Mother wants to shop this afternoon, but I’m trying to convince her to go out on the river. You want to come?”

  I made a moue of regret. “I can’t. There’s too much to do at the bakery.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken an afternoon to go out on the Savannah River.

  “Oh, bummer. I get it, though. We’re on vacation, but you’re busy, busy, busy. And you made time to bring these over? That’s so nice!” She opened the bag and peered inside. “Black-and-white cookies! Only my favorite.”

  “Oh, please. Any cookie is your favorite.” The sardonic words came from behind us.

  I turned to find Eliza coming down the stairs. She had Declan’s height and square jaw, but her hair and eyes were light brown. She wore little makeup and sported a blunt-cut, chin-length bob. Today she wore butter yellow capris with a sleeveless blouse and ballet flats. When she saw Mungo, she slightly raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  Aggie followed behind her. Declan’s mother had red hair that looked so much like my mother’s, I had to wonder if they used the same brand of hair coloring. Hers was cropped into short layers with highlights galore, which suited her pale complexion and brown eyes perfectly. She wore long shorts with a linen T-shirt in a floral pattern and sensible sandals.

  Rori rolled her eyes at her sister. “At least I enjoy a little sweetness, Lizzie.”

  “Don’t call me Lizzie. You know I hate it.”

  Her sister grinned at me.

  “Oh, my darling daughters,” Aggie said mildly as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “A week with you two simply won’t be enough.” She bent to pet Mungo, then straightened and smiled at me. “You brought us cookies?”

  “And apple fritters. Actually, though, I’m here because Eliza asked me to drop by.”

  “Really?” Rori asked. “And why is that, Lizzie?”

  Eliza’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t comment on the nickname. “I wanted to have a little chat with Katie.”

  Rori and Aggie exchanged a look.

  “And a phone call simply wouldn’t do, I suppose,” Aggie said. “Or even stopping by the bakery?”

  Drawing herself up, Declan’s older sister set her jaw. “Mother, this is important. It is traditional for bridesmaids to be young, single women, and Katie isn’t—”

  Rori broke in. “I’ll tell you what ‘Katie isn’t.’ Katie isn’t obligated to listen to your nonsense, Eliza. Good heavens. Who died and made you the boss of everyone? Just leave her alone. Her friends are going to stand up with her at the wedding, and it doesn’t matter if they’re married or, um, of a certain age, or preggers or anything else.”

  Eliza’s face reddened. “Aurora, I’ll thank you to—”

  “No.” Rori took a step forward and raised her index finger. “Just no. Mother, will you please say something?”

  Aggie sighed. “Eliza, your sister might be a bit overly enthusiastic about making her point, but she does have one.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding.

  Eliza huffed, then turned her attention back to me. “Even though I’m trying to help, I’m obviously in the wrong. I’m very sorry you came all the way over here, Katie.”

  I ventured a smile. “No worries.”

  “Yikes,” Rori muttered.

  Eliza lifted her nose into the air. “I said I was sorry.”

  I groped for the right words. Eliza wasn’t a bad sort, just a little high-handed. Still, I barely knew Declan’s sisters, and it had never seemed right to have them in my wedding party. The ladies of the spellbook club, on the other hand, felt just right. All of them, from pregnant Cookie Rios to octogenarian Mimsey Carmichael. Wedding party rather than bridesmaids. Still, what could I say to smooth things over with my soon-to-be in-laws?

  “Eliza,” I said. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to organize a family dinner on Thursday night? Since my parents won’t be here until the end of the week, it would give us all a chance to get to know each other a bit more before the wedding. We can even call it a rehearsal dinner. It would be such a big help.” I frowned. “Though I’m not sure where we could get reservations for so many people this late . . .”

  She was already nodding, though, and a hint of a smile played on her lips. “A rehearsal dinner? Of course I’ll do it. I’m sure I’ll be able to find an appropriate venue.”

  Aggie shot me a grin and a small nod of approval.

  The doorbell rang, and relief whooshed through me as everyone turned toward the entrance with puzzled expressions.

  “Declan’s working today, isn’t he?” Aggie asked.

  “Yes. He gets off his forty-eight-hour shift tomorrow morning,” I said.

  “I wonder who that could be, then.”

  “Well, I know how we can find out,” Rori teased, striding to the door and pulling it open. Her lips parted in surprise, and the blood drained from her face.

  “Tucker?”

  I should know that name. Wait . . . Rori’s ex-husband? Oh, dear.

  From what Declan had mentioned, their divorce hadn’t exactly been amicable. There’d been some kind of scandal. The whole family had been relieved when Rori dumped the guy, even though she’d had to move back in with her mother until she got back on her feet.

  Eliza quickly moved to her sister’s side. “What are you doing here?” Rori asked. “How did you find me?”

  Eliza didn’t wait for an answer. “Listen, buster. I don’t know how you found out she was in town, but
you’re not welcome here.”

  Aggie sighed and crossed her arms but remained at the bottom of the staircase. After glancing down at Mungo, I sidled to one side so I could see their visitor.

  One of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen stood on the front step. He wore chinos and a white oxford shirt with leather loafers. His golden hair was slightly wavy and casually tousled in a way that made me want to reach out and touch it. My fingers actually twitched before I clenched them into fists. His smooth skin was tanned, his bright green eyes flashed behind long lashes, and his aquiline nose sat above lips that looked sweet enough to . . .

  Wait a minute. Sweet lips? What—?

  Those emerald eyes shifted to meet mine, and I felt a tingle along the nape of my neck. He exuded a heady combination of sex appeal, safety, and the sense that he instantly understood everything important about me. Add in his almost painfully handsome appearance, and he was, in a word, perfect.

  Too perfect. Waaaay too perfect.

  I narrowed my eyes, concentrating, and felt a flash of something beneath my initial perception. It felt . . . bad. Wrong. Not wrong as in serial-killer wrong, not quite that. But slimy, for sure. The longer I focused on him, the more it seemed as if I was seeing a slightly off double image.

  Tucker was employing a glamour—a magical manipulation of how other people perceived him. Whether he realized he was doing it or not, I couldn’t be sure. Everyone has some magic in them, after all, and certain people, politicians and those with a great deal of natural charisma, for example, have a native and instinctive talent for projecting an appealing façade. Still, this glamour was over the top.

  Whether or not he was aware of what he was doing, the man sensed I wasn’t seeing him the same way anymore. His eyes flashed, and he directed his attention back to Rori. His lips parted in a white-toothed smile, and affection poured from his gaze.

  Mungo leaned against my leg, and I felt the subtle vibration of a growl too low to hear.

  “Now, sweetheart,” Tucker said. “I heard through the grapevine that your brother is getting married, so I knew you’d come to Savannah. I checked with my friend in the vacation rental business, and she told me your family was staying here for the week. I had to pop by and see how my girl’s been doing. I’ve been thinking about you.”