One of her favorite things to do when we were out was to pretend that we were sisters—completely ignoring how it made me feel to be the so-called sister of a woman a quarter of a century older than me, and I always phrased it as a quarter of a century because it had a delightful effect on my mother's mood.
Today, however, she did not look her best. She was wearing jeans with an elastic waistband, which seemed to be stretching and growing wider before my very eyes.
"Oh no!" she said, fear in her eyes.
There was a loud ripping sound as some of the fabric in the seat of her pants tore.
"Witch!" screeched Kiwi.
I grinned up at him. While it was true that Mom was a witch, she didn't like to be called one with that particular tone.
Mom waddled across the room to one of the floor-length mirrors next to the bookcase. Usually they were used by young, blushing brides admiring their beautiful dresses and the way they made their figures look.
This time, I was worried the mirror Mom was staring into would shatter.
My mother turned around in a slow-motion twirl, peering over each of her shoulders as she spun so that she could take in the full effect of her appearance.
"Did something happen, Mom?"
She glared at me and let out a muffled mmhmm.
"Did you try and cast a spell on someone? To make them look like," I pointed at her, “that?”
“Mmhmm.”
"And it backfired?"
“Mmhmm.”
I'm terrible. Really. I couldn't help myself. I started to giggle. It was a tiny giggle at first. But once I had started, I couldn't stop. Before I knew it, Kiwi had joined in with me, his laughter more of a screeching cackle than a human laugh.
"Sorry... Mom..." I said between laughs and breaths.
I had to lean against the counter with one hand to stop from falling over because I was laughing so much. My legs went weak and my whole body was wracked with shuddering giggles.
"Aria!" she shouted, her first real word since entering.
It just made me laugh harder. Then Kiwi jumped off his bookcase and landed on top of Mom's head, letting out loud screeches as he did so.
"Aria!" she shrieked again, swinging her flabby arms around her head.
Kiwi hopped off her head to avoid her flailing ham-sized fists and landed on the counter next to where I was leaning.
"I'm... sorry... Mom... it's... just..."
She slumped down into one of the armchairs that was generally used by the mothers or grandmothers of brides while they waited. She looked so sad, sitting there, that I was finally able to bring myself under control.
"Sorry, Mom. You look miserable."
She glared up at me but didn't respond.
"Like a big fat lump of... sadness."
"Aria!" she repeated.
"Sorry, Mom. I'll control myself. I will. Promise."
I wiped my eyes, surprised by the amount of tears that had collected in the corners and run down my cheeks. "Tell me what happened."
"It’s Sandra's fault," said Mom with her best approximation of a scowl.
"Sandra's? But she's... you know."
Mom nodded and she couldn't disguise a hint of pleasure on her face.
"I know you heard the rumors. About how Donovan had been spending a bit too much time over at her fudge house."
With a nod, I confirmed that I had indeed heard the rumors. I didn’t bother bringing it up that Sarah and I had tried to talk to her about it.
"I needed to do something, didn't I?" Mom held her hands out in front of her, palms up, like she had no other choice but to do what she did.
"I suppose..."
"I had to. So I went to see her. Just to talk. And do you know what happened?”
Presumably this wasn’t when Sandra had died, so I shook my head.
“She laughed at me! Laughed! Can you believe it?”
“No,” I lied. “How could she?”
“Exactly. And you know I will not stand being laughed at, so I made a plan.”
“Oh? What was the plan?”
Please don’t say drown her in fudge, please don’t say drown her in fudge, please don’t say drown her in fudge.
“I decided to cast a spell on her."
"What kind of spell?" I asked with suspicion.
"A nice one," said Mom with a wicked smirk.
"Really?" Somehow, I doubted that.
Mom nodded her head up and down, her new jowls cascading.
"I cast a spell to make her grow, and to make her eat fudge."
"Grow and eat fudge? That’s it?”
Mom nodded. "Eat all the fudge."
I had a sudden vision of Sandra again, face-down in her giant pot of fudge. Is that what had happened? Had Mom cast a spell and made her kill herself in her own giant vat of liquid fudge, drowning while she desperately tried to eat it all?
"Mom... that's not good. That really doesn't look good at all."
She nodded her head slowly. "I know. I look terrible," she complained.
"That's not what I meant. I mean if you cast that spell on Sandra..."
“At this rate, I’ll have to have to join Walnut Wanda's Weight Warriors," said Mom with a frown, having moved on from talking about the spell she cast.
"Walnut Wanda? Who's that? What kind of mother names her daughter Walnut?”
“She runs a weight loss group called Walnut Wanda’s Weight Warriors.”
“Yeah, I got that. Why’s she called Walnut Wanda? Does she look like a walnut?”
Mom giggled and for a moment she was briefly cheered up. For once, I actually felt sorry for my mom rather than annoyed with her. Knowing how much she cared for her looks, her current situation must have been her own personal nightmare.
“Nope. She’s called that because she’s deathly allergic to walnuts. She nearly died after eating some of Sandra’s fudge earlier this year.”
“What happened?”
With some effort, Mom shrugged, clearly not used to having to lift up quite so much weight with the gesture.
“Sandra sold her a batch of fudge that had some walnuts in it, a couple of months back. She ended up in the emergency room and nearly died. She claims Sandra tried to kill her, but I’m sure it was just an accident.”
“It seems like Sandra had more enemies than just you, Mom.”
“A very hated woman, that Sandra. I don’t want to say that she got what was coming to her, but…”
I shook my head at her to cut that train of thought out right away. “And she runs a weight loss group, this Walnut Wanda?”
Mom nodded and began to rummage around inside her jacket. A moment later, she pulled out a flyer and handed it over to me. I could already see Sarah adding it to her collection—if she didn’t have this one already.
“So she runs a weight loss group, but she was eating fudge?”
Mom nodded again.
“That’s the thing about her group. You can eat anything you want! Even fudge!”
“Uh huh. And that works, does it?”
Mom gave me another heavy shrug.
“That’s what the flyer says. As long as you stay within your points, you’re fine. The fudge does take up a lot of points though.”
“Right,” I said dubiously. “Where did you get the flyer?”
Mom shifted her bulk around in the armchair uncomfortably.
“It was on Sandra’s door when I got there the other night.”
“The night we found her dead?”
Mom looked at the flyer I was holding again and looked back at me.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that interesting? It looks like someone has a motive.”
“It does, doesn’t it? What are you thinking, Aria?”
I paced slowly across the shop. I wanted to meet this Walnut Wanda, to see what she was like. While I can’t magically judge whether or not someone’s a murderer by looking at them, I can sometimes look at their auras and make a pretty fair judgment of their
characters.
“Let’s go down there. We’ll meet her, tell her that you’re thinking of signing up.”
Mom shook her head violently. “Me? Joining Weight Warriors?”
“Well, you have to admit, you could stand to lose a few pounds now, Mom.”
“Aria! My spell may have gone a little bit wrong, but surely you’re not suggesting I debase myself by joining Walnut Wanda’s Weight Warriors?”
“Hey, it was you who suggested it. And you had the flyer.”
“I was kidding!”
Mom crossed her arms and gave me a sullen look.
“Come on, we’ll just go and meet her. See what she’s like.”
With reluctance, Mom gave me a slow nod.
After crossing the shop and opening the front door, I peered back at Mom who was, with some difficulty, lumbering back to her feet.
“Come on, my little weight warrior!” I called behind me and almost skipped out of the shop.
Chapter 9
Walnut Wanda’s Weight Warriors was located in a strip mall outside of the historic downtown area. We parked outside and made our way across the half-empty parking lot to the brightly decorated shopfront.
It was sandwiched between a bakery on one side and a music shop on the other, neither of which was particularly busy.
“It’s funny how she calls herself Walnut Wanda, isn’t it?” I said to Mom.
“She does that because she thinks it makes her special,” said Mom with a sniff. “She wants everyone to know about her deadly allergy. That’s why she calls herself Walnut: to get people to ask about it.”
I wasn’t sure if Mom knew that for a fact or if she was just making it up to be mean; it was hard to tell with her.
“Slow down, Aria.” Mom was huffing and wheezing as we walked across the lot, even though I was walking at my normal pace. “And why’d you park so far away?”
I held my tongue and my laughter. I didn’t want to be bickering with my mother when we went in to meet Wanda. Mom paused outside the door, catching her breath before we went in. When she indicated she was ready, I pushed the door open, entered, and held it open behind me while Mom shuffled in behind me.
“Hi, Weight Warriors!” said a cheery voice.
We were standing in the lobby of the club, and it was simply but tastefully decorated with encouraging slogans and catchphrases along the walls, and some sturdy-looking chairs for waiting. The owner of the cheery voice stepped out from the glass doors of an office that was directly off the lobby.
Walnut Wanda was a slim blonde woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. She was beaming at us with a headlight grin and soulful, compassionate eyes.
“Hi,” I greeted her. “We’ve just come by to check the place out.”
Mom said nothing.
“Please, follow me into my office and I’ll go over our programs.”
Before we could respond, she had already led the way, so of course I started to follow her. Mom nudged me.
“She thinks we’re here to join,” she said in a low voice. “She thinks we’re fatties!”
“Shh. Just play along!”
Mom didn’t offer me any further response, but she shuffled along with an air of resentment as we followed Wanda into her office.
“Look at you two!” said Wanda as we entered. “Such pretty faces!”
Mom smiled at that, and I couldn’t help but join her. It was nice to be complimented.
“Thanks!” I said brightly.
“We have a number of different programs, all of which were developed by me personally to make you into the very best Weight Warriors you can be. Now, let’s have a look...” Wanda paced around us, running her eyes over our curves.
“We’re not here for—” began Mom, but I stopped her with a jab just under her ribs. She glared at me, open-mouthed. I smiled back innocently.
“Now,” said Wanda to Mom, “I think what you need is my Amazonian princess program!”
“Princess?” said Mom, a smile almost escaping out onto her lips.
Wanda nodded firmly. “Oh yes. That’s what I do. I turn Amazonian piggies into Amazonian princesses!”
“Piggy?” exclaimed Mom. My rapid-fire jab did nothing to stop her this time. “Piggy? Piggy!?”
Wanda tittered and smiled. “Just a little joke. We like to do that here—we joke around. Have a laugh with each other. And one of the first steps to weight loss success,” she jabbed a finger at a poster titled Weight Loss Success while she spoke, “is to be honest with yourself. Even when it hurts. And you,” she said, adjusting the finger she was pointing to aim back at Mom, “are an Amazonian piggy!”
I couldn’t help but giggle. Her good mood, friendly demeanor, and insults toward my mother were contagious.
“And you too, dear. But you’re not quite a piggy, you’re more like a chubby Amazonian anteater.”
I frowned at her. I was not chubby, and I definitely didn’t eat ants. Mom beamed a triumphant smirk my way.
“Now, what you’re going to love about the Weight Warrior program is that you can eat anything you like!”
“She already does,” said Mom, nudging me and cackling.
Wanda raised her eyebrows at Mom. “And we all know where she got it from, my little forest piggy.”
“Actually, we’re not here to join your ridiculous eat-anything-you-want program. If we wanted to do that, we’d go to Min’s All You Can Eat Chinese Buffet,” said Mom pointedly.
“Oh, you are funny,” said Wanda without laughter. “It’s not eat as much as you want, just eat whatever you want—as long as you’ve got the stickers for it!”
“Stickers?” I asked.
Wanda nodded, keen to explain her Weight Warrior system. “You have your diet book, and your sticker book. Everything you eat, you record with stickers. The more calories, the more stickers! You can eat whatever you want, every day—until you run out of stickers!”
“And what happens after that?” I asked.
“We shoot you!”
“What!?”
“Just my little joke!” said Wanda, giggling to herself. “No, what happens is you record it in your Naughty Book. At our meetings, we have to read out everything in our Naughty Books for a good old-fashioned public shaming. It’s very motivating.”
“We have no interest in any of this nonsense,” said Mom. “I’m not here to join your club.”
Wanda giggled again and shook her head at Mom. “It’s okay to be in denial. Most of our new members are reluctant piggies to start with!”
“No,” said Mom, firmly.
Wanda faltered. She wasn’t used to people coming in with no intention of joining. I didn’t know why Mom couldn’t just play along with it though, just for a few more minutes, so we could get to know Wanda and ask her what we really came for.
“Then why are you here, may I ask? You’re not from that new church, are you?”
Think fast, Aria! Why are we here, if not to join?
“We’re here, because...”
Wanda looked at me expectantly. Mom looked at me with a smug look on her face, excited to see what I was going to come up with.
“... because I run a bridal shop.”
Wanda cocked her head at me. “So...?”
“So I’m, err, looking for some models. Plus-size models. We’re getting a lot of interest these days in bigger dresses, and we need to take a few photos with some of the more spectacular dresses. So many of the bridal magazines are just full of skinny girls, you know?”
Wanda nodded thoughtfully. “I see. I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you there though—all my Warriors are skinny.”
“They are?”
Wanda nodded. “Of course. The club works!” She looked at Mom. “We have an introductory rate for your first month...”
“No!” said Mom a little too loudly.
“I found your flyer on the door of a, well, a kind of friend,” I said quickly, before Mom could say anything more about not wanting to join Wand
a’s club.
“Oh?” said Wanda giving me a suspicious look.
“Well, not exactly a friend, but someone I used to buy fudge from. Sandra. Did you know her?”
Slowly, Walnut Wanda nodded.
“Yes, I knew her. Isn’t it terrible what happened to her?”
“It certainly was terrible,” I said. “Did you know her well?”
Wanda nodded. “I did, after she nearly killed me.”
Mom and I both put on our best ‘we’re shocked!’ faces.
“She nearly killed you?” I asked. “What happened?”
“Well, you may not believe it, but Walnut isn’t actually my real name.”
“No way.”
“Say it isn’t so.”
“Yep. The reason they call me Walnut Wanda is actually because I’m allergic to them! It was a fun little nickname they gave me in school, and it stuck. But Sandra for some reason forgot all about my nut allergy, and sold me a batch of fudge she’d made with crushed walnuts and almonds!”
“Oh, no, how terrible!” I said.
“It was. I’d barely eaten half a pound of it when my allergies kicked in. My throat swelled up and I couldn’t breathe. I nearly died!”
I clucked, trying to look horrified and sympathetic. “Oh wow, that’s horrible. I guess that was the end of your friendship then, huh?”
Wanda shook her head. “No way. I loved Sandra.”
“But she nearly killed you!” said Mom with a glare. I knew what Mom would have done if someone had nearly killed her—and it wouldn’t have involved ‘loving her’ after.
“She may have nearly killed me, but she also saved me,” said Wanda.
“What, she drove you to the hospital?” I asked.
Wanda shook her head. “No, she was too busy for that. I mean, she saved me because she broke my fudge addiction. I haven’t touched another piece of it since I got out of the hospital. After that, I lost nearly a hundred pounds, regained my health, and started the Weight Warriors!”
“So you actually felt grateful toward Sandra, even though she nearly killed you?”
“Exactly. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”
“That’s not what my Uncle Hank said after he lost his arms in a snowmobile accident,” said Mom.
Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set Page 41