Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set

by A. R. Winters

Sarah was already walking over to the door. She tapped her finger at the CLOSED sign as she peered out the window at the woman outside.

  Since we locked the door, we’d had several other brides-to-be drop by, only to be thwarted by the security measures we had engaged: locking the door and Sarah adding a sign to the window telling everyone exactly when the sample sale kicked off. However, it seemed no one in this town cared much for reading. At least not reading signs in my shop window, anyway.

  BANG BANG BANG!

  Looking over, I saw that the woman outside had not departed, and was in fact hammering on the door and shaking her head at Sarah. She was mouthing something through the glass.

  “What’s she saying?” I asked Sarah.

  “Something about weddings, I think,” she said with a shrug.

  Big surprise there, I thought with a snort.

  The woman pounded on the door again.

  “See what she wants,” I said.

  Sarah slowly unbolted the door and opened it, just an inch, not wanting to risk a customer forcing their way in to get at the goods.

  With the door open a crack, the woman hollered, “I’m Zola! The designer!”

  “Oh no!” I shouted and ran as quick as I could to the front of the shop.

  Sarah pulled the door open all the way. “Sorry!” she squealed out.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Zola as she stepped inside. “We’re being overrun with girls who want to see your dresses! We’ve been sending them away all morning.”

  “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” screeched Kiwi from atop the bookcase.

  I had a brief moment of panic while I worried that Zola would have the same reaction to the bird as the near-unstoppable woman had earlier. Thankfully, she merely glanced up at Kiwi and smiled, and then looked back at Sarah and me.

  Zola was elegantly dressed in a modern take on a ‘50s style, with the kind of dress that Audrey Hepburn would have looked fabulous in. She had long straightened dark hair that hung just past her shoulders. Her brown eyes almost seemed to sparkle with life behind them.

  “Not to worry! I understand. It’s my own fault for being so successful, I suppose,” she said.

  Sarah and I both gave her beaming smiles.

  “You really are popular! We’re honored to have you here,” I said to her, pleased to finally be meeting Zola in person.

  “It’s so exciting!” said Sarah with a squeal.

  “I see you’ve begun unboxing the dresses,” said Zola, casting an eye around the shop and the mess we were making.

  “Oh yes, they’re amazing!” I said.

  “They’re wonderful,” said Sarah in happy confirmation.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked.

  “No. I only drink de-electrolyzed water with mineral extracts from a top-secret spring. I bring my own everywhere.”

  I tried not to look too surprised. I supposed being a famous wedding dress designer meant you had some quirks—including what kind of water you drank.

  “Oh, where do you get this water?” asked Sarah with interest.

  “I have a man in Beverly Hills,” said Zola, raising her eyebrows and leaning in just a touch.

  Sarah cocked her head. “I used to have a man in Beverly Hills. He didn’t give me water though.”

  Zola squeezed Sarah’s arm and laughed along with her.

  “Magic water!” screeched Kiwi.

  Zola gave the parrot an indulgent smile and then said to Sarah and me, “It’s not magic, of course, but sometimes it makes me feel like it is.”

  “I’m Aria, and this is Sarah,” I said to her, offering her my hand, and finally introducing myself.

  She gently shook each of our hands in turn.

  “So do you always keep the door locked?” asked Zola.

  I laughed. “No, no. This is the first time we’ve ever been locked on a weekday. Getting ready for the sample sale is the biggest event of... well, ever, for Blue Moon Bridal.”

  “It must be very exciting for you,” said Zola.

  “Oh, it’s such a thrill and an honor. Hold on, I have something for you,” I said.

  Zola gave me a curious look as I hurried over to the counter. I reached over from the shop side and pulled open a drawer, quickly snatching up what I was after.

  “Here you go,” I said to Zola, handing her a key to the shop. “If you need to come in at any time, just let yourself in,” I said with a smile.

  Zola studied the key for a moment. “Thank you for your trust.”

  “What? No! Thank you for trusting us with all of this,” I said, waving my arms expansively over the array of dresses waiting to be set up on display.

  Zola laughed. “Well, thanks to each of us for trusting each other.”

  Sarah clapped her hands together and Kiwi let out a shriek of approval from on high. While we were all smiling, Zola was running her eyes around the shop.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing over to the back corner of the room.

  “That,” I said, grinning with pride, “is one of the oldest and finest dresses ever made in California. It was bequeathed to me by an elderly gentleman. It was his wife’s, and before that, his grandmother’s.”

  Zola walked over to admire the dress that the late Fletcher Davenport had agreed to give me before his untimely demise. I had set it up on a mannequin on a small raised wooden platform. Everyone who came into the shop commented on it and wanted to touch it. It was like a museum piece.

  Fletcher’s recent murder had shocked our small, close-knit community here in Sequoia Bay; I’d even been implicated as a possible killer. Thankfully, I’d manage to uncover the real killer before they could completely annihilate my reputation.

  “This really is a spectacular dress. Perhaps I’ll draw inspiration from it for some of my future designs,” Zola said with a smile.

  “That would be fantastic. Fletcher would’ve been happy.”

  “You have a lovely shop, Aria. I must say I’m impressed. I’ve always had a soft spot for Sequoia Bay, and so when I received your package, I felt like I couldn’t turn it down.”

  Sarah nudged me, in an I told you so kind of way.

  “Did you like the little charms? We use them for party favors,” said Sarah.

  I nudged her back. But in more of a shut up kind of way.

  Zola slowly nodded her head. “Yes, they were nice. There was something about them. When I held them, I felt like I was back in Sequoia Bay again...”

  “When were you here before?” I desperately wanted to steer the topic away from the magic charms we’d sent her.

  Charms that Sarah had persuaded and cajoled me into including, even though I hate to influence people to doing things they otherwise wouldn’t want to do. Hopefully, Zola had taken the decision to have a sample sale here of her own accord, not because of the teensy-bit-magical charms.

  “Oh, I came here with my family all the time growing up,” Zola said, dreamily. “Every summer. I met the first four boys I was going to marry here...”

  Sarah giggled and I raised my eyebrows.

  “What?” said Zola. “Obviously I didn’t marry them. I mean, as a young girl I was obsessed with weddings, so every time I met a boy, I’d plan out our future wedding. I’ve always loved weddings—that’s why I became a wedding dress designer.”

  Sarah and I both nodded in understanding. I had a similar fascination with weddings since my own childhood, though my focus was more on the clothes, the setting, and the ceremony rather than the groom.

  “And now you’re back!” I said.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. I’d been meaning to come back for a vacation. But you know, when you’re famous, you don’t really get vacations—people always want to talk about your work wherever you go. So I decided why not take you up on your offer to hold a sample sale and take a kind of ‘working vacation’ while I’m at it.”

  I beamed at her. She was so interesting, a really wonderful person, I thought.

  Thump.

&
nbsp; The door shook.

  The person who’d failed to get in on the first attempt didn’t give up, but began rattling the door back and forth.

  Sarah and I glanced at each other with knowing looks. I’d recognize that insistent rattle anywhere.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Zola. “My mother is here.”

  As soon as the bolt slid back, I had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit as my mother entered with a shove of the door.

  “Good morning!” she said, making straight for Zola. “Annabelle Whitmore.” She had a hand outstretched as she reached the designer, who took it politely and offered a firm but gentle shake.

  “Zola, wedding dress designer to the great and the good,” she said with a smile. “And anyone else with money!” she finished with a loud, open-mouthed laugh.

  “I have some good news, everyone,” announced Mom.

  I squeezed my fingers into the palm of my hand. If anyone else had said that, I would have been excited. But it was Mom.

  Usually, her good news was along the lines of her going away on a trip with her boyfriend, and could I water her garden and check up on her house every day? Or she had tickets to see a show in the city and could I drive her there and back? That kind of thing.

  “Yay!” said Sarah excitedly, oblivious to my plight.

  “Do tell,” said Zola.

  “What?” said I, not bothering to hide my grumpiness.

  “I have managed to secure an interview with the local news station. Blue Moon Bridal—and its spokesperson—will be on television!”

  “Oh! Really?” I was pleasantly surprised. Mom’s good news was actually good for me for a change.

  “Yes. You’re going to be the talk of the town, Aria—and Zola, of course, though you already are!”

  We all laughed and I allowed myself to relax. For once, everything was going perfectly.

  Business was back on track after the unfortunate downturn following Fletcher’s death, and now with Zola’s sample sale, my shop was really going to be on the map. Perhaps I’d even think about opening a second store...

  “Can I help you with anything, dears?” said Mom.

  “Sure,” I said. “We’re going to get all the dresses out and then work out on the particulars of the display. Some will just go on the rails, but I want to do something interesting with some of the others. Some on mannequins, maybe even try and get some kind of hanging from the walls, like they’re floating.”

  “Like ghosts?” said Sarah.

  I shuddered. “Well maybe not like that. But we’ll think of something.”

  The four of us happily got to work.

  “I designed that dress originally after I saw Nicole Kidman’s dress at the Oscars last year,” said Zola as one dress was revealed.

  “This was one was inspired by the ocean liners and fashions of the 1920s...”

  “... and this one has a kind of royal feel to it, don’t you think? I saw a documentary about Queen Victoria and was just filled with inspiration. I call this one The Empress...”

  If you’d asked me then how I thought things were going to go, my answer would have been uncharacteristically, overwhelmingly, effusively positive.

  But with Aria Whitmore, things never go smoothly.

  I should have known that just when everything seems to be going right, something is about to go very wrong.

  Chapter 2

  “How do I look?” I asked my parrot.

  “Fine!” he said with a shriek.

  Typical.

  Parrots are all the same; they never give you any useful feedback.

  The impression I was trying to give was professional businesswoman, but also young and hip, and kind and trustworthy, but with an edge of coolness to reflect the fact I had the hottest wedding dress designer in California exhibiting at my store.

  “People!” shrieked Kiwi.

  “What people?” I asked with a frown.

  Kiwi was sitting on the windowsill overlooking the street. My apartment was above the shop, and the living room looked onto the street below.

  “Strange people!”

  I hurried over to the window and drew back a bit of curtain so I could see without being seen.

  Sure enough, there were people. Dozens of them! All outside my shop. There were people on camping chairs, on little stools, huddled up in sleeping bags, and even with a couple of little one-man tents.

  “Oh no!” I said. “Come on!”

  Kiwi hopped up onto my shoulder and we quickly hurried out the front door of the apartment, descended the stairs to the shop level, and opened the side door of the building.

  When we rounded the corner, I could see the full extent of what was going on. There was a long line of people, all waiting to get into my shop. And the sale didn’t start for another twenty-four hours!

  I walked up to the trailing end of the line. The last woman stepped forward when she saw me approaching to make sure she was right behind the lady in front of her, as if worried that I might try and sneak into her spot.

  “What’s going on?” I asked her.

  “Zola Cates is having a sale! Her first one ever!”

  “But doesn’t that start tomorrow?” I asked.

  She leaned into me, a pleased expression on her face, glad to be given the chance to impart ‘secret’ information. “This is her first ever sample sale! Some of these dresses are one of a kind. I’m getting married next year and this is the only chance I’ll have to get a dress made by her. I could never afford to hire her exclusively, and anyway, her waiting list is longer than my wedding list!”

  I nodded in understanding. On the one hand, it was nice that the sample sale was going to be such a big draw, on the other...

  “Aria! Aria! Aria! Aria!” came a voice. I knew who it was before I turned around; she was the only person who insisted on repeating my name over and over in order to get my attention if I didn’t reply within the first half a second.

  “Nora,” I said, mentally crossing out how nice to see you as I don’t like to lie.

  “Aria! Aria! What is the meaning of this?” she said, waving her hand down the line of people camped outside my shop.

  “They’re waiting to get in,” I explained.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Well, open the door then!”

  I shook my head. “Not until tomorrow.”

  “Aria!” she said, shaking her head in outraged disappointment. “Tomorrow? It’s lucky I called the police already then, isn’t it?”

  I blinked at her. “The police?”

  “Of course. You’re causing a gross disruption to all of Main Street. It’s despicable. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Hey lady! Knock it off! We’re not being disruptive!” said the woman in front of me.

  Glad for the moral support, I nodded agreement with her pronouncement. “No one’s doing anything wrong. The sale will start tomorrow and everyone will be off the streets by then.”

  “Aria! That’s unacceptable and I will not stand for it. We have vagrancy laws for a reason in this city you know.”

  “Vagrancy?” said my supportive future-customer. “We’re not vagrants. I have three homes, for goodness’ sake.”

  Nora gave a haughty sniff. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re on the streets, you’re vagrants, and Sequoia Bay is a better class of town than that. We’ll see what the police have to say when they get here, won’t we?”

  “I’ve got to go,” I said to Nora. “I’m sure these people won’t cause any disruption.”

  “You’ve got to go? I’ve got to go! I’ve got a business to run,” she said and began marching away in the direction of the Black Cat Café.

  Nora ran the café with her business partner, Priscilla, whom I liked a whole lot better—even if she had basically accused me of being a murderess not so long ago.

  At the front of the line, I found who I was looking for. It was Suzan, from the television station, and she was there for me. Me! To be interviewed on television! It h
ad been easy to recognize her because I’d watched her on TV every morning for years. That, and there was one other giveaway—she was accompanied by a bearded man holding a video camera with a big fluffy microphone attached.

  “Aria Whitmore,” I said, holding out my hand and getting a friendly squeeze in response.

  “Suzan—” she interrupted herself with a loud sneeze, before continuing, “—Clark,” she finished. “Sorry about that, allergies. I’ve been stuffed up for days.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Shall we go inside? It’s a bit hectic out here!”

  “Sure. We got a few establishing shots of the scene outside already. Let’s go inside for the interview. I’ll try not to sneeze on you during it!”

  After unlocking the front door of the shop, I let the reporter and her cameraman inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind us. Kiwi immediately flew up onto the bookcase to watch the day’s entertainment.

  “If you don’t mind, would it be okay if we got right to it?” asked Suzan. “We have to get back to the studio before ten, so...”

  “No problem! I’m ready when you are!”

  I was barely able to keep my enthusiasm in check. It was the first time Blue Moon Bridal—and indeed Aria Whitmore—had been on television and I was terribly excited.

  “Ready, John?” Suzan asked the cameraman, following her question up with another sniff.

  He nodded.

  And with that, Suzan was off.

  “Good morning. I’m here today with Aria Whitmore, who along with her mother Annabel Whitmore is the owner of Blue Moon Bridal, Sequoia Bay’s premiere—and only—bridal shop. And today is an incredibly exciting day!”

  “Good morning,” I said, trying to be bright and cheery even though Mom had already started to ruin it. I couldn’t believe she’d told the reporter that she was a co-owner.

  “Tell us, what’s going on outside? And inside?”

  I took a deep breath as I prepared to answer my first real question. I’m nervous! I realized.

  I smiled at Suzan who was quietly blowing her nose while the camera was off her, then flicked my focus to the camera, then back to Suzan and then found myself breathing so fast I was almost panting.

  If I focused on the camera, I’d be ignoring Suzan, which seemed rude, but if I focused on Suzan then mightn’t I look a little odd on television? Couldn’t they have given me a day or two’s training before putting me into the spotlight?