Making Magic: Books of the Kindling, Book 3

by Donna June Cooper

  “Oh, with the scruff he’s got going, he has a definite ‘bad boy’ vibe,” Mel chimed in, rubbing her chin. “And his hair isn’t really blond. It’s more gold. Kind of tawny.”

  That was true, but Thea didn’t want to think about Jake’s hair, or any other part of him. She rubbed Bailey’s ears. The dog seemed to be asleep in her lap, but acknowledged the attention with a twitch of her eyelid. “Is there a reason that the wedding is on a Wednesday?”

  Mel laughed. “Thea doesn’t want to talk about our nice ex-sheriff, does she?”

  “He’s not an ex-sheriff yet,” Grace said.

  “You said he was quitting. Is it because he got shot?” Thea realized how that sounded. “I mean, because of the injury? He seems fine.”

  “No,” Grace said. “I think he has his own reasons, but it’s not the wound.”

  “From what Daniel tells me, there’s a lot of good-old-boy type corruption around here,” Mel said.

  “It’s the peril of elected office. You’re under constant pressure to campaign and keep your contributors happy, while fighting for better equipment and trying to keep people in the county safe,” Grace said. “He’s been good for the county. Most of the people really want him to stick around.”

  “Oh, look! They finished with the fairy lights on the gazebo,” Mel exclaimed.

  Grace turned her attention back to the garden. “It’s all perfect, Mel. Those lights and lanterns are the crowning touch.”

  “I hope so. I never knew there were so many little details you had to handle.”

  “From what I’ve heard, the only thing you have to get right is the actual marriage, Thea chimed in. “The rest of it is just icing.” Grace nodded her agreement.

  Thea remembered the question she had asked before she was distracted. “Speaking of little details, why a Wednesday wedding? Is that something Italian?”

  Mel laughed. “No. Saturday is the big day over there, like everywhere else. Wednesday is for my mom and dad. They have commitments every weekend until almost Christmas and they’re sticklers for keeping their promises.”

  “So those festivals where they perform are only on weekends?”

  “Usually,” Mel explained. “Sometimes longer if there’s a holiday.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Spokane. Or they were. Actually, right about now they should be in Wisconsin.”

  “They’re driving from Washington state?” Thea said in disbelief. “Are they afraid of flying?” Like Jake, although his was more of a control issue than a phobia.

  Mel laughed. “No, not at all. They have to be in New York this coming weekend anyway, and they need their trailer, so we’re kind of on the way.”

  Grace laughed.

  “I said ‘kind of’.”

  “Another festival?” asked Thea.

  “A really big one. The New York Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo—about an hour north of New York City.” There was a touch of longing in Mel’s voice.

  “Do you miss performing?” Thea said.

  “A little. Mostly it’s seeing new places, meeting new people,” Mel said. “I love to travel. Luckily, so does Daniel.”

  “The way you two met, I suppose traveling is part of the deal,” Thea said.

  “Absolutely. But one of the best parts of going somewhere new is coming home.”

  “And this place has never looked better,” Thea said. “It is amazing what some tender loving care can do.”

  The whole house was a delight, a mixture of old and new styles, but still lovingly decorated to acknowledge its historical significance. And the porches were wonderful. Mel clearly loved wind chimes.

  “Restoring it—actually cleaning up the entire hollow—was kind of cathartic for everyone,” Grace said. “But Mel and Daniel have done a great job redecorating the interior.”

  Thea was determined not to mention the Taggarts or what had happened to Pops because of them. Today and tomorrow had to be all about wedding, wedding, wedding. But Grace had promised Thea that afterwards she would take her up to the cave that their Granny Lily had used as a workshop long ago. The Taggarts had been using it as a meth lab when Nick and Grace discovered it, but much of the original workshop had survived.

  Thea looked up the ridge to the clearing where Mel and Daniel had brought down two Italian thugs bent on stopping Mel from publishing a story about deadly corporate misconduct. The mountain had seen its share of excitement this past year.

  “There are some challenges with a house this old,” Mel admitted. “But the basic structure was solid and the Taggarts hadn’t done too much damage.”

  The two-story Victorian farmhouse had been built at the end of the nineteenth century, but the house that Grace and Nick lived in on the other side of the ridge was firmly rooted in the twenty-first. It looked Victorian, but Pops had built it to take advantage of green technology and made the farm into a model of sustainability. The entire mountain belonged to the Woodruffs—actually to Grace now—along with the family herb business that had begun with Granny Lily. There were also Daniel’s thriving apiaries, one here in the hollow and one up on the farm.

  Grace rented out cabins up there and used what Pops had called plant walks to educate people about the flora and fauna of the mountain with a folksy kind of charm. Daniel had taken up where Pops had left off and he and Mel planned to publish a book of Pops’s old stories and fables, called Firefly Tales.

  Thea smiled. Pops would be proud. But their father would be furious if he ever remembered that he had intended to break Pops’s will and parcel up the mountain to developers. She picked up the plate of sweet rolls Ouida had sent over for them.

  “You’ll let us stay on the mountain with Pops and you won’t make him sad anymore!”

  And he had. He had left the mountain alone until Pops’s death had broken that compulsion. If he hadn’t been in the midst of the worst legal battle the company had ever faced, he would have gone after the mountain with a vengeance even before the funeral. It didn’t matter what the will said if you could keep throwing lawyers at the problem.

  But this time her father would not remember. This time she was not a desperate, grief-stricken child, but an angry, experienced lawyer who knew how to wield words like a weapon. This time, he would forget how much he hated this mountain.

  “Hey, Sissy! Quit hogging those,” Daniel said.

  Thea almost dropped the plate. Daniel was hanging over the railing holding out his hand. She quickly handed the plate to him.

  Nick joined them, sitting down on the porch steps with a glass of orange juice. “We hard-working wedding designers deserve some refreshments. And a break.” He wiped his forehead.

  “I want to know about that nickname, ‘Sissy’.” Mel said. “Sister, I assume?”

  Daniel laughed. “Nope.”

  “Daniel had trouble with his ‘th’ sounds when he was learning to talk. ‘Thea’ came out as ‘see.’ He would run around after me yelling ‘SeeSeeSee’.” Thea said.

  “Ah,” Mel said. “Got it. Cute.” She reached over to ruffle Daniel’s hair and he swatted her hand away.

  “So…Sissy-in-law,” Nick said.

  Thea rolled her eyes. The thing about nicknames was the less you liked them, the more they stuck.

  “Any news from Hartford we should know about?” Nick asked. “Not that we own any stock in the company.”

  Thea had seen him poring over online stock reports and business news back at the farmhouse. It had only been a matter of time before he asked. But now?

  “I was planning to update you guys after the wedding,” she said.

  “Yes, Nick. No business talk before the wedding,” Grace said. “Today is all about Mel and—”

  “Why not?” Daniel chimed in. “Is this about the…that case you were working on?”

  Thea looked at Grace, who shook
her head. Her siblings had kept their word not to talk to anyone about what she’d been up to. She’d been right to trust them.

  “It’s over,” Thea said. How simple that sounded. Five years of her life and very little to show for it.

  “Four billion worth of over,” Nick said, eyes on his wife. “I thought it might be more than a coincidence that you got freed up to come for the wedding.”

  “Four billion?” Mel repeated. “Those guys got Hartford for four billion?”

  Thea stood and put Bailey carefully down on the porch. “Four billion is nothing.” She leaned back against the railing. “It’s less than the money they made off their illegal activity in the first place. They still made a profit.” She couldn’t say what she really wanted to. And people died. How’s that for justice?

  Mel looked suddenly upset and Daniel put a hand on her arm.

  “I’m sorry,” Thea said. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it. It didn’t… It wasn’t enough.” It will never be enough.

  “But as an attorney for the company you…” Nick studied her for a moment then looked at Grace. “Oh, I see.”

  “Well I don’t. Is it a good thing or a bad thing?” Mel asked.

  Daniel patted her hand. “It’s—”

  “—complicated.” Grace finished.

  They smiled at each other, but Mel still looked baffled.

  “It was a rather unusual case,” Nick said. “A number of highly placed individuals at Hartford came forward as Qui Tam whistleblowers, which means they get a cut of the settlement.”

  “But some are donating theirs to the victims’ families,” Thea interrupted. “The rest have to keep their share to make up for the fact that they might never work in the industry again.”

  Nick nodded. “The DoJ had a rock-solid case, which is why this is the biggest settlement they’ve ever gotten out of Big Pharm. And there are still tons of victim lawsuits pending.”

  Mel looked from face to face. “Okay, maybe it’s pre-wedding jitters, but I’m totally confused now. As an attorney for Hartford, don’t you want—”

  “I don’t work for Hartford anymore,” She checked her watch. Her dad would have opened the letter sometime yesterday. “As of twenty-six hours ago.”

  Grace looked relieved.

  “That’s great.” Daniel’s voice was a bit shaky. “Great,” he repeated. Thea looked up to find his eyes glinting. “We need to celebrate.”

  “You don’t understand. There’s really nothing to celebrate. This isn’t even a bump in the road to Hartford. Anything that happens to their stock price will be temporary. They will probably give…” She struggled for which title to use. “The CEO will probably get a bonus because the settlement was a lot less than it could have been.”

  “No, Sissy, you don’t understand.” Thea blinked as Daniel came up the porch steps and pulled her into a tight hug. “It means you’ve really come home. Finally.”

  He held her there and she had to fight not to let her own tears flow. For now, but not forever.

  They really had kept her secret. Thea tried to remember if she had ever used the voice to constrain them somehow.

  Daniel kissed Thea’s forehead and turned to keep his arm tight around her. “No matter what you think, four billion dollars is a lot.”

  “And that verdict has strengthened those other pending lawsuits,” Nick added.

  “Daniel Woodruff, you are going to explain all this to me.” Mel huffed. “After the wedding.”

  “Sorry. It’s been hard,” Thea said, her voice rough. All those years of sneaking around, deceiving her colleagues, giving up her music and, worst of all, being without her real family, had been wasted. And she had lost precious years with Pops. Time she would never get back.

  “It wasn’t a waste,” Daniel said. “I know that.”

  Thea looked up at him. Had she said that out loud?

  Something wet rubbed her ankle and she looked down to see Bailey licking her. Scooping her up, Thea buried her face in short white fur and took a deep steadying breath, covering up her anxiety by cooing at the dog.

  “Okay. Thea’s right. This is not a topic for our pre-wedding celebrations,” Nick said. “I apologize for pressing the issue.”

  Thea looked up. Grace had probably prompted him. Mel’s eyes were full of tears. What a disaster this had been.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Thea said. “Today is—”

  “You need to be in my wedding,” Mel said, wiping at her eyes.

  “What?” Thea asked.

  “Grace is my matron-of-honor and Jamie is my flower girl. I would love it if you could somehow be in the wedding,” Mel said.

  “Oh, that is so sweet of you,” Thea said with relief. “But I’m fine with just being there for your big day.”

  “No.” Grace sat up. “Actually, this will work. The boutique had to get two dresses for me. I had no idea if I would still be this shape at this point. I bet the other one would fit you. In fact, I’m sure of it. I doubt there is a huge call for dark teal evening dresses in town.”

  “You can be my other maid-of-honor,” Mel exclaimed.

  “You can have more than one?”

  “No rules against it. Even if there were, who cares? This’ll be perfect! I can easily put together another bouquet.”

  Thea swallowed. “But I-I don’t have any shoes to match.”

  “No worries. Everyone is wearing these cute foldable flats, including me. The better to dance in!” Mel said. “Mine are dyed to match your dresses, but yours are ivory to match mine. The boutique has them in ivory in every size. I need to go into town to get my hair trimmed anyway, so you can try on the dress and get the shoes.” She literally bounced. “Oh, I hope they still have the dress.”

  Thea had this vision of some kind of horrid poofy meringue that she would never wear again, but she forced a smile. “Sounds great.”

  “You’re lying,” Mel said. “But you will love it—I promise.”

  “At least Mel didn’t try to get you to play with the band,” Daniel said. “She talked about it earlier.”

  “Oh.” That was a blessing. “You’re having live music?” Thea asked.

  “Yes. They’re called Songs in the Wood,” Grace said with a particularly smug smile. “Jake Jake Beefcake’s group.”

  Jake set down the tuning wrench, unclipped the tuner, rolled his shoulders and picked up his hammers. Much to the delight of the couple browsing the store with their young son, he started playing “Tarantella Napoletana” on the hammered dulcimer he had just tuned. Jake grinned as the little boy started clapping in time with the beat of the classic piece of Italian culture, something he’d probably only ever heard used in pasta commercials. Mel and Daniel had been practicing the traditional Tarantella dance steps so that they could perform it at the reception to surprise her father.

  It was going to be quite the mixture of music—a bit of Italian, a bit of Celtic and a bit of good old mountain music, with a few interesting choices for the bridal couple dances. Jake almost wished he could be on the dance floor for this one. It wasn’t the first wedding his group had done, but it was the first one that was so musically eclectic.

  He glanced out at the street, finished the Tarantella and started into the “Chicken Dance” song, something Mel had specifically requested. The little boy immediately started going through the motions and his parents soon joined in. Jake grinned and played with equal enthusiasm.

  So far the dulcimers sounded as good as they looked—and they looked pretty damn fine. Although he still had one more to string and tune, he was feeling upbeat about the odds of selling one this weekend and maybe getting some orders for custom work. His new business cards were ready and he’d been checking out the online storefronts of other instrument builders. It had only been a hobby—an avocation. He had never seriously thought about tryin
g to make a living at it until the Woodsman’s death. Even then, it had taken getting shot in the gut to really set him on the path.

  His father had been a bit dismissive of his music, considering it not quite macho enough for the son of a sheriff and had encouraged him to try one sport after another instead. Though he had excelled at anything involving throwing a ball or shooting a gun, music had been his first love. Jake had only pursued law enforcement because the world seemed to expect him to walk in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, which, looking back, was a damn stupid reason to do anything.

  But he had proven to his dad and the people of the county that macho wasn’t measured by the caliber of a gun, but by the mind of the man wielding it. He still held the record for the highest firearms qualification scores in the state. Of course, now he knew why.

  With a grim smile, he launched into the bouncy Irish jig “A Fig for a Kiss” and enjoyed watching the little fellow’s face as he sped the tune up faster and faster until the hammers were blurs. When he stopped, his audience, including a couple out on the sidewalk, applauded. He always had the door propped open to serenade the window shoppers.

  He touched his hammers to his forehead in a salute to them. Among the passers-by was Charlie Sloan, acting sheriff of Monroe County, standing on the sidewalk with his arms folded, grinning.

  Jake waved him in. Charlie had left his hat in his car, but was in full uniform. Official business?

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Jake asked.

  Charlie nodded to the couple in the store and smiled at their little boy as he shook Jake’s hand. The boy was absolutely fascinated with Charlie’s gun and all the other equipment hooked to his belt.

  “How are you doing, Jake?” Charlie said. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while and I thought I’d check in on the invalid, see how you’re healing up.”

  That’s what cell phones are for, Jake thought, but played along. “Getting better every day. Working out the kinks.”

  “Uh-huh.” Charlie waited for the couple to finish browsing and head out the door.