“Where did you meet Aria’s father?”
I blanched. I hadn’t expected her to be so... direct.
“That? Him? Oh, that’s ancient history. Well, not ancient—I’m not that old, of course—but it was so long ago I just don’t think I can recall.”
“You don’t remember? That sounds mysterious!”
Mom frowned and shook her head. “Not mysterious, too dull to recall. At least I think so. I don’t recall!” Mom giggled at herself while Sarah and I didn’t.
“Was Aria’s father a witch like you?” asked Sarah.
“A man? A witch? Don’t be ridiculous,” said Mom.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know about things like that. I’m more grounded in the real world,” she said.
I snorted. You could accuse Sarah of a lot of things, but being grounded in reality was not generally one of them.
“What about now? Where would you go to meet a man now?”
The whole conversation was making me incredibly uncomfortable, which was why Sarah was there in the first place. She would do the heavy lifting of asking embarrassing questions.
“Meet a man? Why, I really wouldn’t know. I suppose one would be introduced at a gala or a ball or the like. But as you know, I am quite happily with Sequoia Bay’s finest man.”
“Mayor Charlston?” asked Sarah.
“Yes, of course. You can’t get a finer man than the mayor of the city, can you?”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on,” I said. “The first course is ready.”
When they were both seated at the dining table, I brought out three bowls of a cream of mushroom soup which I’d cooked after closing the shop for the day.
“What’s this?” asked Mom, peering at it.
“Homemade mushroom soup,” I said with a smile.
“It looks and…” Sarah paused to inhale the steam coming off the bowl, “…smells great.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you pick the mushrooms yourself?” asked Mom, peering at me intently.
Great. I knew where this was going. If I did, she would be worried about being poisoned, and if I didn’t, then no doubt I should have picked them myself. But I knew how to play her game.
“No, Mom, I didn’t,” I said.
She let out a long, slow sigh. “You can’t trust supermarket mushrooms. You really need to pick them yourself. We are blessed with the most wonderfully fertile woods, loaded with fresh mushrooms, around Sequoia Bay and—”
“That’s where they came from. Sarah picked them. I didn’t do it myself because I was too busy.”
Mom’s head whipped over from me to Sarah. She’d been thwarted in her first critical attack, but she had plenty more ready to go that evening.
“And do you know which mushrooms are safe?” she said with a skeptical look.
Sarah nodded emphatically. “Don’t you remember my old boyfriend, Mushroom Mathew? He taught me all about how to recognize the safe ones and the dangerous ones, and even which ones can be used for mystical and spiritual purposes.”
“Really?” asked Mom in surprise.
“Yep,” I said, giving Sarah a nod of support. It was true, and for the three weeks she had dated Mushroom Mathew—though I did suspect this wasn’t his real name—she had been the keenest mushroom collector in all of Sequoia Bay, coming back with bags of them almost every morning after heading out into the woods.
“Well. Good,” said Mom, spooning some of the soup between her preternaturally-plump lips and smiling. “It’s... nice.”
I beamed. Nice from Mom was like getting a Michelin star. She wasn’t generous with her compliments where I was concerned.
“Mom,” I said, placing my spoon down for a moment. “How are things with you and Donovan?”
“Fantastic. Couldn’t be better.”
“Really?” said Sarah.
“There’s nothing odd about him these days?” I asked.
Mom shook her head and frowned at us.
“Why should there be? He’s my same old Donovan. Still the best man in the city.”
“Right. Do you really see yourself sticking with him? Long-term?”
“Why? Do you think he’s too old for me?”
I nearly choked on my soup. Too old for her indeed. He was actually a few years younger than her.
“No, no, not that. We were just wondering,” I said, giving Sarah a look that said save it for later.
“Well, worry not. We’re still together and it looks like we’ll stay that way.” She placed her spoon down in her empty bowl. “That was surprisingly good, Aria.”
“Thanks,” I said, and we shared genuine smiles with each other.
“If the bridal thing doesn’t work out, you can become a cook.”
And... she ruined it. My shop was my life, and I’d built up my business through my own hard work and dedication. I wasn’t about to abandon it for some other career, and Mom’s lack of confidence in me was, as always, eternally frustrating.
“I’ll get the main dish,” I said.
I could have delayed it a little and let us sit and talk between courses. But I didn’t want to sit and talk between courses. Not with Mom, anyway.
“Here we are,” I said a few moments later as I laid a plate out in front of Sarah and Mom each. “Homemade chicken, gravy, biscuits, and mashed potatoes.”
“And beans!” said Sarah.
I nodded.
Mom looked down at the plate—which looked delicious if I do say so myself—and then looked back up at me.
“Are you trying to fatten me up?”
Deciding to take it as a compliment, I laughed.
“Just eat as much as you want, Mom. You don’t have to finish it all.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful.” She dug in like she was worried I’d take it away from her if she didn’t finish it all in a timely fashion.
“Australia,” said Sarah apropos of nothing.
Mom gave Sarah a look but I wasn’t quite sure what it meant. I think it was somewhere between ‘shut up’ and ‘what are you talking about?’
“Isn’t that where Aria’s father went?”
Mom shook her shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. We thought he was dead.”
“Did you really?” I asked.
We had found out he was alive when Hazel Crane showed us a picture of a very much alive man who she claimed was my father. A man who bore a striking resemblance to me.
“Well, we didn’t know he was alive, as such. Not until that Hazel Crane poked her nose in where it didn’t belong.”
“Where is he?” asked Sarah.
Mom shrugged her shoulders, banged her fork on her plate, and tried to focus on eating.
“What is this? An inquisition? I don’t know anything about that man except he left a long time ago. We’d all do well to forget all about him. Now, let’s not ruin dinner thinking about him.”
We each cleaned our plates, shoveling the food down faster than would be polite at a normal dinner party. But with us, it was never normal.
“And now for dessert,” I said.
“What have we got?” asked Mom.
“Chocolate fudge cake,” I said. “With ice cream or whipped cream.”
“Sounds divine!” said Sarah excitedly hopping in her chair.
“Just a small piece for me,” said Mom.
“Goes straight to your lips, doesn’t it, Mom?”
She pursed her inflated lips and glared at me. She didn’t find me as funny as I found myself.
When we were all happily sitting in front of our triangular portions of cake, Sarah skillfully brought out her killer card. The one to break up Mom and Donovan forever. At least, that was the plan.
“So this is chocolate fudge cake,” said Sarah with a wave of her fork. “Which reminds me... of fudge.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Mom rolled her eyes.
“Probably
because of the ‘fudge’ in the name,” continued Sarah, oblivious. “But we spoke to a lady the other day. We were talking about Sandra the fudge lady. Do you know her?”
Mom frowned. “I know of her. I tried some of her fudge and it really was quite nice.”
Sarah nodded. I filled my mouth up with some more cake and let Sarah do the talking.
“Well, we heard that she had some zoning trouble. She was making and selling fudge at home, which is against city regulations.”
“Is that so?”
“But even though she was reported to the city, she hasn’t given it up. She’s been meeting with someone quite regularly.”
“Oh?” Mom gave Sarah a suspicious look as she carefully cut off a small piece of cake from what was left on her plate.
“Yep.” Sarah shoved a giant spoonful of cake into her mouth so she couldn’t go on.
“What’s she talking about, dear?”
“Thanks, Sarah,” I said to her with a saccharine smile. “It’s probably just gossip, Mom.”
She dropped her spoon into her ice-cream bowl and glared at me.
“Come on, Aria. Out with it.”
“Well, this lady, Molly Anderson, she lives next door to Sandra, and she said…” I paused, not quite sure whether I should continue. The evening was going remarkably well so far, and it seemed a shame to ruin it.
“She said…”
“She said that Donovan had been dropping by. Not just once, but several times. She thinks Sandra is trying to get Donovan to rezone the area to allow her to run her fudge business from home.”
Mom folded her arms in front of her chest, her remaining cake completely abandoned.
“Are you saying that Donovan, my Donovan, has been going to the fudge lady’s house?”
I nodded in confirmation.
“That’s right. And Molly thinks she’s using her feminine wiles to persuade the mayor.”
“Her feminine wiles?” Mom attempted to raise an eyebrow but there was barely a twitch. Botox.
Sarah finally finished swallowing her mouthful of chocolate cake and wiped her lips with a napkin before setting it down in front of her. “She used the term Jezebel.”
“Jezebel!?” Mom stood up in one swift motion, knocking her chair backward and sending it clattering to the floor behind her.
“But it is just hearsay.”
“Hearsay? This fudge woman’s going to hear what I’ve got to say, make no mistake. And is that why you brought me here? I knew you two were scheming something. You just wanted to deliver the news in person, didn’t you?”
I shook my head rapidly.
“No, Mom, it wasn’t like that! We wanted to tell you in a nice setting. Give you a nice dinner.”
“Yeah, right. You wanted to look at me as you told me your horrible news. Your own mother. Aria, I’m very disappointed in you. Very. Disappointed.”
“But Mom—”
She was already moving, shaking her head as she crossed my little living room toward the door that led downstairs. I chased after her, but it was to no avail.
“Good night, Aria,” she said without even turning around when she got to the bottom of the stairs. She opened the door, stepped outside, and immediately shut it behind her—right in my face.
“Bye,” I said weakly to the closed door.
Chapter 3
Sarah had almost succeeded in persuading me to close up the shop for a break.
"Come on. I need to grab some stuff from the shops," she said with a smile that was supposed to be persuasive. It kind of worked.
"What kind of stuff?" I asked, hands on my hips and trying to look like a boss.
"Flyers, menus, postcards, all the important things," she said.
"Important things? Sounds like a load of junk to me. If you got here earlier in the morning, you could go through my mail and find mountains of the stuff. I don't suppose you're interested in bills too, are you?"
Sarah shook her head emphatically, swinging her braids around like whips.
"Of course not. They’re for my scrapbook, see."
She showed me a large two-page spread that she had titled "Downtown Sequoia Bay." It was currently decorated with one of my business cards and nothing else.
"Fudge!" screeched Kiwi down at us.
"Okay, okay, okay," I relented. "Come on, let's go."
Although it was only mid-morning, it felt like the right time to take a break. Bridal shops aren't usually busy in the mornings, because the exciting activities like trying on dresses and making wedding plans are more afternoon activities than mornings ones. Usually, we would only deal with specifically booked appointments in the mornings, and today we had none of those.
"Come on," said Sarah, tapping her shoulder for Kiwi. He flew down and landed as light as a feather and began to nuzzle Sarah's neck. He knew who would be doling out the fudge today.
"First stop is Randi's fudge shop," I said. "Kiwi won't shut up about it."
"Fudge," he said, a little more quietly than he had been screeching recently.
"Don't you think your mom will be mad?" asked Sarah with a frown.
I shrugged my shoulders and laughed.
"Maybe! Let's go."
If you walked briskly, it was possible to get to Randi’s in a quick five minutes, but it took us nearly twenty minutes as Sarah kept finding the most fascinating garbage to collect along the way. Well, what I call garbage, she calls mementos of Sequoia Bay living.
It was a slightly chilly day and every time Sarah stopped to peel off a flyer taped to a lamppost or snatch up a restaurant’s take-out menu, I could feel the cool, damp air beginning to seep into my bones while I waited for her.
"Good morning," said Randi when we finally entered Randi Blake's fudge shop.
"Hi," we all greeted her, Kiwi included, though his greeting was in the form of an excited squawk.
"What can I get for you?"
"I'll take some original, and a piece of double cream,” I said.
"And I'll have the strawberry and vanilla!" declared Sarah.
"Original!" screeched Kiwi.
Randi looked at my parrot with a smile. "Good taste."
It had surprised me when I first discovered Kiwi's love for fudge, but now I had to put up with it, I regretted giving him his first taste.
When we had collected our treats, I was about to lead us all outside when Kiwi started to bang his head against mine repeatedly, and shout "Fudge! Fudge! Fudge!"
My plan for a brief picnic on one of the benches on Main Street was knocked askew by my greedy parrot who apparently couldn't wait another second.
"Okay, okay, here you go."
I broke off a little corner from the block of ‘original’ and held it up for Kiwi, who snatched it out of my fingers so fast I worried he might one day take a chunk out of me with it.
There was a brief moment of silence while the parrot noisily chewed the treat, opening and closing his beak with relish.
Then he stopped.
"What's wrong, Ki?" asked Sarah.
Kiwi treated us to an ear-splitting screech that resonated around the small shop, before spitting out what was left of the fudge I'd given him onto the floor.
"What's the matter with you?" I said to Kiwi. "I am so sorry," I said to Randi, who was looking at us with an alarmed expression.
Kiwi let out a series of complaining shrieks, though of course he couldn't explain exactly what the problem was when there were other people around.
"There must be something wrong with the fudge," said Sarah.
She opened her own bag and peered into it as if looking for signs of tampering or spoilage.
"I'm sorry," I said again to Randi Blake, who was still staring at our little group with apprehension written all over her face.
"Did you change the fudge?" asked Sarah with a frown.
“I…well…umm…” she said, faltering.
Sarah stepped up to the counter, placing her palms down on it and wearing an expression lik
e she would brook no funny business. “Well?”
Kiwi was now perched on Sarah’s shoulder and the two of them looked like a formidable pair, both of them staring intently at the shopkeeper.
“I had to get a new fudge supplier. I used to use Sandra, but she stopped supplying me. She started selling it out of her own house and didn’t want the competition.”
Sarah glared at Randi. “So you’ve been selling fake fudge?”
“No! It’s not fake fudge. It’s just not Sandra’s fudge.”
“Fake!” shrieked Kiwi. “Fake! Fake! Fake!”
“No, it’s not!” said Randi defensively.
“Sorry about that,” I apologized for what felt like the millionth time, trying to calm the situation. “They’re just a little obsessed with Sandra’s fudge in particular. I’m sure this fudge is just fine, though.” I gave Sarah a look. “Come on, let’s go.”
Sarah and Kiwi reluctantly followed me out of the store to the street. Tentatively, I raised a piece of the cream fudge to my mouth and took a nibble. “Blech!”
“See?” said Sarah.
“Fudge!” said Kiwi.
I had to concede that this fudge really was not as good as Sandra’s.
There was a rattling from the direction of the shop and I turned to look at it.
“I’m not surprised,” said Sarah shaking her head.
Kiwi let out a shriek.
The lights in the shop had been turned off, the sign in the window had been flipped from open to closed, and the rattling sound had been Randi locking it up.
“It looks like if we want the good stuff, we’re gonna have to go to the source,” said Sarah.
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? But we don’t have time for that now. We’ve got a shop to run.”
Kiwi let out a wail of disappointment as we headed back to work.
Chapter 4
I was out with Jack. That's Detective Jack Bowers when he was working, but at the moment, we were definitely not at work.
We had just finished enjoying a delicious "home-cooked"—though in a restaurant of course—Italian meal at Mama Victoria's Italian Kitchen and he was doing the gentlemanly thing of walking me home.
Downtown Sequoia Bay is small enough that you can easily walk the entire area without breaking too much of a sweat, and since I lived above my shop, I was fortunate enough to live in the downtown area.
Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set Page 38