Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series

by Livia J. Washburn

  “I’m a little s-sore,” I admitted – more so since Angela had punched me – but Donovan didn’t need to know about that. “It’s nothing to worry about, though.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way. The more we move around, the better it’ll be. So in that spirit…why don’t you come have lunch with me?”

  He had come here to ask me for a date, I realized. It had been a while since that had happened to me. And a big part of me wanted to say yes.

  But…

  I lifted the cat and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sort of…occupied.”

  “You can’t leave her in your apartment?”

  “I don’t have a litter b-box, or food for her, or any t-toys.” I felt like moaning as I realized how woefully unprepared I was to take care of any living creature. “I’ll have to go g-get all of that.”

  “All right, alternate suggestion,” Donovan said. “You and this pwecious, cuddly widdle fing go upstairs and get acquinted while I round up all the feline necessities and bring them back. And while I’m gone maybe you can fix some lunch for us.”

  I thought about what was in the apartment to eat. “It’ll have to be sandwiches.”

  “Sandwiches are fine,” he said with a solemn nod.

  “All right. On one c-condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Don’t ever use that b-baby talk voice again.”

  He laughed. “Deal.”

  Then he leaned over, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and rubbed the cat’s ears. She purred even harder. She had taken a liking to Donovan right away.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  o0o

  When we went into the apartment, I set the cat down to let her wander around and familiarize herself with the place, hoping at the same time she wouldn’t do anything rude until Donovan got back with the litter box.

  Not much chance of that. When I went into the kitchen, the cat followed, sat herself down, and watched me intently as I went about preparing bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado sandwiches on slices of grilled sourdough bread. They’re nothing fancy, but they’re pretty good, if I do say so myself. By the time I was finished, Donovan was back from the store down the street. When I went to answer the bell, his arms were full with a plastic litter box, a bag of litter, a bag of cat food, and a plastic bag that had cans of food, litter liners, and several cat toys in it.

  “How did you manage to r-ring the doorbell?” I asked.

  “With my nose,” he said, although I doubted that. What was important was that he was here with the things I’d need for the cat.

  I took the litter box from him and said, “I’ll p-put this in the smaller bathroom.” That was the one Taylor and Beth used the least, so I hoped it wouldn’t cause them much trouble. I told myself that I would clean it out diligently, so there wouldn’t be any problem with odors. Or as little as possible, anyway. Getting rid of them entirely might be too much to expect.

  It didn’t take long to set up the litter box. I showed it to the cat, even set her in it, but she didn’t seem interested. I could only cross my fingers mentally that she got the idea.

  With that done, Donovan and I were able to settle down on barstools at the kitchen counter to eat the sandwiches I’d made. I’d added some potato chips to both plates.

  “Sorry it’s not something b-better,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? This is great.” He picked up his sandwich and took a big bite, then looked down at the cat sitting on the floor watching us eat. “What’s her name?”

  “N-name?” That was right, if I was really taking care of her for a friend, I’d know her name, wouldn’t I? Hoping that my hesitation wasn’t too obvious, I said, “She’s Matilda.”

  I had no clue where the name came from. It had just popped into my head. But as I looked down at her, I got a strong sensation that it was right. If she was Angela Vandermeer’s cat, she may have called her by some other name, but when I looked at her, she was Matilda. She just was.

  “It suits her,” Donovan said, not knowing that I had just dubbed the cat Matilda. He said it again. “Hello, Matilda.”

  She meowed at him.

  I had to admit, that was a little strange, her reacting to him like that. But who could ever tell what was in the mind of a cat? Certainly not me.

  “How’d it go with the insurance company?” he asked while we ate.

  I had already told him that they wouldn’t need to talk to him, but now I gave him the rest of the details. He agreed they’d probably been so accommodating because I’d never filed a claim before. The next time, if there ever was one, likely wouldn’t be so simple. I just hoped there never was a next time.

  “Do you think those two have d-done that before?” I asked.

  “Stage a wreck in order to rob somebody, you mean?” Donovan nodded. “I’d bet on it. That pickup they were in was like a tank. They could ram other cars with it every night and not do much damage to it.”

  I had thought the same thing. “We sh-should have called the police,” I said. “They might have been able to find them and st-stop them from hurting anybody else.”

  “I’m sure some of their other victims have reported them. The cops are bound to be on the lookout for them already. It’s only a matter of time until they get caught.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said.

  When we finished the sandwiches and chips, Donovan sighed and said, “That was really good. It made my day.”

  “You’re just b-being polite.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I just know what I like.”

  The smile he sent my way gave those words even more meaning.

  He went on, “All right, now that you’ve fed me, I owe you a meal.”

  “After what you d-did for me last night, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “That’s not the way I see it. I want to take you to dinner tonight.” I started to say something, but he went on, “I know, you have a cat to take care of now, but if your roommates object, you can always move the litter box and her food and water into your room and leave Matilda in there. True?”

  “Well, I suppose…”

  “So why don’t I pick you up at seven? I know just the place.” He named one of the best restaurants in Corpus Christi. I’d heard of it but had never been there. “How does that sound?”

  “It sounds wonderful,” I had to admit.

  “Then it’s a date?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s a d-date.”

  He stood up from the barstool, put a hand on my shoulder, and leaned over to kiss me. It was more than the peck he’d given me earlier, but not the same sort of full-throttle kiss we’d shared the night before. Some of that passion might have been left over from the danger we had shared. This kiss had plenty of potential, though.

  Once he was gone, it took me a few minutes to clear my head. Things with Donovan were moving so fast, which was so unlike me, that I felt a little dizzy. But maybe that was what it felt like to meet somebody and fall hard for them right away, I told myself. I didn’t have anything to compare it to.

  But I had plenty of worries that didn’t have anything to do with Donovan Cole, so I forced myself to concentrate on finding out as much as I could about Angela Vandermeer.

  Unfortunately, that was absolutely nothing. I knew where she lived, and I knew she had sent that singing telegram/revenge spell to Ronnie Holt, but other than that it was like she didn’t exist. There was no evidence of her anywhere on the Internet that I could find, and I searched for more than an hour.

  As I leaned back in my chair in front of the computer in my bedroom, Matilda jumped in my lap. She started pawing at my leg, and as I felt the soft pushes, I realized I didn’t feel any claws digging in. I checked her front paws. Yep, she had been declawed, all right.

  “Did Angela do that to you, k-kitty?” I asked her. “Leave you all d-defenseless?”

  Matilda just looked at me.

  “I wish you could talk,” I told her. “Maybe you co
uld t-tell me more about Angela.”

  Wait a minute…Maybe I could…

  No. Casting a spell to make Matilda talk would not be a good idea, I told myself. That would be interfering too much with the natural order of things.

  As the old saying goes, there are some things better left alone.

  But I was more puzzled than ever by the mystery of who – or what – Angela Vandermeer might be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Taylor came in late that afternoon with the news that Beth had called her and said she was working an extra shift at the hospital.

  “So it’ll just be the two of us for supper,” she said as she kicked off her shoes and set her briefcase down on the sofa.

  “I’m afraid it’ll just be you,” I told her. “I have a d-date.”

  She looked at me in surprise, an expression that was quickly replaced by a smile. “Really? That’s great, Aren. Who’s the guy? You haven’t said anything about meeting somebody.”

  “Well, it’s one of those wh-whirlwind romances, I guess you could say,” I replied with a shrug. Truthfully, I was a little worried by how fast things had gone with Donovan. But when something felt so right, what else could you do but go along with it and see where it led?

  “What’s his name?”

  I was about to tell her when the big calico cat jumped onto the back of the sofa right next to her. “Matilda!” I said.

  Taylor frowned. “Matilda?” she repeated. “I don’t get it. I – ”

  Matilda bumped her head against Taylor’s hand, which caused Taylor to jump back and let out a startled yell.

  “Oh, my God! There’s a cat in here!”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s Matilda.”

  “But…but…but I’m allergic to cats! They make me break out!”

  In fact, she was already starting to scratch at herself through her clothes. This was an unexpected and totally unwelcome development.

  “I’m so s-sorry,” I said as I hurried forward and scooped up Matilda. “I’ll go put her in my r-room.”

  “I’m sorry, Aren,” Taylor said as she grimaced and tried to reach a spot in the middle of her back. “It’s not going to work. If she’s anywhere in the apartment, I’m going to break out – ”

  “I’ll do something about it, I swear,” I said over my shoulder as I practically ran into my room carrying Matilda.

  Once the door was closed behind me, I set Matilda on the bed and threw myself down beside her.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked her. Cat person or not, I was already attached to her. And besides, she was a possible link to Angela Vandermeer.

  There was one thing I could at least try, I suddenly realized. I sat up, pulled Matilda into my lap, thought for a second, and then sang, quietly enough so that Taylor couldn’t hear me through the door, “Taylor shouldn’t itch because of you, and I hope this way to make it true.”

  I stood up, left Matilda on the bed, and slipped out of the room quickly so she couldn’t follow me.

  Taylor was in the larger bathroom. She had taken off her jacket and blouse and was standing in front of the mirror in her bra, turning back and forth as she looked at herself.

  “I don’t understand it,” she said. “I stopped itching, and the welts are gone. They were there just a second ago.”

  “Maybe it’s because I p-put Matilda in my room,” I suggested.

  “No, you don’t understand, Aren. I’m really sensitive to cat fur. If that animal’s been in this apartment for more than a few minutes, there’s enough of it around in every room to make me break out. But it just stopped!” She looked at me. “What’s it doing here, anyway?”

  “I’m looking after her for a friend,” I said, falling back again on what was the easiest, most believable lie.

  “What friend? None of our friends have cats. I’m absolutely positive about that.”

  “You don’t know this g-girl. I met her through my job.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how it’s going to be possible to keep the cat here.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, thinking furiously. “Matilda’s been declawed. I’ll bet she’s been de-allergied, too.”

  “De-allergied? There’s no such thing.”

  “It’s new,” I said. “I r-read something about it not long ago…”

  I was babbling now, and I knew it.

  I also knew that my spell had worked. That was the only conceivable reason Taylor’s reaction had vanished so abruptly. But I couldn’t tell her that. It was bad enough she and Beth had to help cover my share of the expenses. I didn’t want to tell her that they were sharing the apartment with a witch.

  “I can prove it,” I said, still grasping at straws. “W-wait here.”

  “Aren, what are you doing?” she called after me as I hurried out of the bathroom. “Aren!”

  I ran into my room, grabbed Matilda off the bed, and raced back to the bathroom, knowing that if I gave Taylor too much time to think about it, she’d close the door and lock us out. The door was still open when we got there, but Taylor cringed back against the vanity.

  “Get that creature out of here!”

  I thrust Matilda toward her like the cat was a weapon. “Hold her,” I said. “Just hold her for a minute.”

  “I can’t…I’ll itch for a month…Aren, no!”

  Her protests were to no avail. I shoved Matilda into her arms. And nobody, finding themselves with a soft, warm, fuzzy kitty in their arms, can resist hugging it. Almost nobody, anyway.

  Taylor couldn’t. Despite her alarm, she hugged Matilda.

  Then looked up in amazement as she said, “I don’t itch.” She looked down at herself. “I’m not breaking out. I don’t see any welts. Do you see any welts?”

  “Not a s-single one,” I told her, smiling.

  “This is just unbelievable. I’ve always been allergic to cats, ever since I was a little girl.” She rubbed Matilda’s head and scratched her ears. “You say her name’s Matilda?”

  “That’s right.”

  “She’s really sweet. But…a cat? I never…I never even thought about having one!”

  Matilda’s personality had scored again. She had won Donovan over right away, and now she had gotten Taylor to like her, with even worse odds of that happening.

  “So she can stay, at least temporarily?”

  “Well, as long as I’m not itching and breaking out, I don’t really have any excuse to say no.” A typical Taylor grin stole over her face. “But you’ll have to feed her and take care of her, young lady.”

  “I promise,” I said, grinning back at her.

  “Now, you were about to tell me about this date you’re going on tonight.”

  o0o

  As a precaution, I moved the litter box and Matilda’s food and water into my room before I got ready. Taylor had changed into sweats and offered to help me, but I told her it wasn’t necessary.

  When I told her that Donovan was a financial planner, she thought she might have heard of him because her firm did a lot of corporate and financial work, but his name wasn’t familiar to her.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” she assured me. “There are plenty of people in that business I don’t know.”

  Earlier I had gone through my closet trying to find the perfect outfit for the night. The restaurant was pretty nice, so no jeans. I got dressed in a simple black dress with three quarter sleeves and paired it was a pair of two inch strappy shoes. They looked sexy without killing my feet. While I was doing that, Taylor sat on my bed holding and petting Matilda. After not having pets pretty much her entire life, I think she was really enjoying it.

  She wanted to know how Donovan and I met.

  “He came along and h-helped me after a hit-and-run driver sm-smacked into my car.”

  “You were in a wreck?”

  “You d-didn’t see the damage when you came in?”

  She shook her head. “No, I didn’t even see your car. I’m sorry, Aren. Are you all right?
Were you hurt? You should’ve gotten Beth to take a look at you when we came in last night.”

  “I didn’t want to b-bother you. I’m fine. I’ve just got some bruises and a scraped hand.” I held it out to show her. In all the uproar over Matilda earlier, she hadn’t noticed the bandages.

  “And you didn’t even get the jerk’s license number?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  She let out an angry snort. “If you ever find out who it was, let me know. I’ll sue his ass off.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

  “So this Donovan came along and was a Good Samaritan?”

  “That’s exactly the way I th-thought of him,” I told her. “Yeah, he made sure I was all right and that I got back here without any more trouble. I sort of, uh, invited him up for coffee.”

  She gave me a narrow-eyed look, then shrugged. “Probably not the smartest thing to do, but sometimes you have to take a chance with people. You’ve got pretty good instincts.”

  “I d-do?”

  “You’re friends with me and Beth, aren’t you?”

  I grinned and said, “Yeah, there is th-that.”

  When I had finished getting ready, she gave me a long, speculative once-over, then nodded. “I try not to exaggerate,” she said, “but you look spectacular, Aren.”

  “Thanks.” I didn’t believe it for a second, but it was nice to hear. I would have said pretty good instead of spectacular, I thought as I studied my reflection in the mirror.

  I was ready with time to spare and didn’t want to mess up my dress or get cat hair on it by sitting down, so I stood in the kitchen keeping Taylor company while she fixed herself a spinach salad with walnuts, pears, cottage cheese, and bleu cheese crumbles, drizzled with a sweet lime and olive oil dressing for supper. She told me about the case she was working on, which sounded like a lot of incredibly boring paperwork to me, and my mind wandered. How would she react, I asked myself, if I told her that I was an incredibly powerful witch who had almost caused the end of the world when I was just a toddler, and oh, by the way, I cured your cat fur allergy by casting a spell on you? I was sure she would believe every word I said and take it all in stride without batting an eye.