Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set

by A. R. Winters

  “So that awful Molly woman was making it all up?”

  “No. Donovan had been talking to Sandra, but he tells me they were talking about rezoning plans. He wants to turn that whole historic neighborhood into some kind of commercial district with jam shops and nightclubs.”

  “Nightclubs?”

  “I know. Ridiculous, right?”

  “Oh, that sounds fun. I haven’t been to a club in ages,” said Mom brightly. Then she seemed to remember her current condition and her demeanor turned somber again. “Not that any decent clubs would let me in.”

  “I know, Mom. You’re far too old for all that now.”

  “Aria!” she said, slopping more of her tea onto her jacket.

  I just sipped quietly until she had calmed herself again. “So what are you going to do? You can’t avoid Jack forever. You should talk to him.”

  “No! He’d tell everyone what I look like! It’d probably be plastered all over the papers!”

  “He’s not a gossip. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Perhaps, but people would still see me, Aria. No, I’m not letting anyone see me until this,” she said, waving her hands in vague circles over her rolls, “is all gone.”

  “You let me see you.”

  “I meant anyone important,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

  I smirked back at her.

  “If he asks me, I’m not lying for you. You got yourself into this mess and I’m not covering it up.”

  Mom turned her gaze up toward the ceiling.

  “Magic above, what did I do to deserve such an uncaring daughter?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said benevolently, “you can hide out upstairs with Kiwi for now. If there actually is a warrant out for your arrest, you’ll go and turn yourself in though. I’m not harboring a wanted criminal.”

  Mom sniffed. “I’m not a criminal, you know that. If the police think I am, that’s their problem, not mine.”

  “The justice system doesn’t work like that, Mom. You can’t just tell them they’re wrong.”

  She shook her head in denial, and then emptied the remnants of her teacup into her mouth with a big gulp.

  “Well,” she said, resting the cup on her spacious lap, “it would if I was in charge of it.”

  “Right. Sure, Mom. Everything would be perfect. Now what are you going to do about yourself? Walnut Wanda’s Fat Warriors does seem to be an effective program…”

  She jerked her head angrily from one side to the other. “Walnut Wanda can waltz her way out west.”

  “We are out west.”

  “I mean into the ocean,” Mom said, a mean smile dancing on her lips.

  “Well, if you’re not going to join the Fat Warriors, what are you going to do?”

  “I told you—I’ve got it under control. I have a plan, one I’ve already put into action. Soon I’ll be my old self again.”

  “Emphasis on ‘old?’”

  “Aria!” screeched Mom.

  “I kid, I kid. But really, what’s your plan?”

  “It’s a secret. I know you wouldn’t approve so I’m not going to tell you.”

  I gave her my best This Is Serious look. “It’s not illegal, is it?”

  Mom shrugged. “How should I know? You’re the expert on the legal system, apparently.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “But no, it’s nothing illegal, probably.”

  “Great. What about Sandra? Did you get anywhere with her?”

  “She’s still dead, isn’t she?” said Mom with a puzzled look.

  “I mean did you get anywhere finding out who killed her?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Mom, “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than some harlot’s comeuppance.”

  I stood up, carried both of our cups to the counter, and set them on top. I’d ask Sarah to wash them later, and then inevitably end up doing it myself when she forgot or found a more pressing task to do instead.

  “You know, Mom, you’re one of the prime suspects in Sandra’s murder. You should try and figure out who did it just to clear your name. I’m looking into it and I haven’t even been accused.”

  “You always were nosy.”

  I gritted my teeth and thought back to those happy moments a minute or two ago when I still had some tea left to drink. Why was I trying to help Mom clear her name when all she seemed to care about was her weight?

  “Oh!” Mom started to stand up, but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, she fell backward into the comfy armchair. Finally, using her arms to push herself up, she managed to stand up on her second attempt. “Help me into the back, quick!”

  It didn’t take me more than a couple of seconds to catch on. Mom wanted to hide.

  I held her arm and helped her maneuver toward the back of the shop, where the door leading upstairs was located. “Did you put a spell on him?”

  “On who?” she asked innocently while she hurried guiltily.

  “On Jack!”

  I pulled the door open and started to shove my mother through it.

  “Oh, well. Not a spell exactly. Just a little charm, something to alert me when he’s getting too close. Like now.”

  She was incorrigible.

  “Make yourself at home upstairs. Kiwi’s there and he’ll keep you company. You can watch Dress Me For a Date together.”

  “Maybe if I leave the window open, he’ll fly out,” she said with a wicked cackle.

  “Enjoy the stairs,” I said firmly, giving my mother one final push through the door and closing it behind her.

  Ding!

  I spun around with a smile fixed on my face. “Jack! What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Aria,” he said with a smile. “Sorry I haven’t been in contact. It’s been a bit hectic lately, what with the…” He paused and made a grimace. “Y’know.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “A bridal gown?”

  We both smiled for a moment, before his expression grew more serious again.

  “Aria, have you seen your mother recently?”

  Recently is a funny word, isn’t it? So imprecise.

  If you’d seen someone one second prior, it didn’t really count as ‘recently,’ did it? It was too close for that. And if it had been a couple of days, that was completely open to interpretation. Some people might think recently meant within the last hour, whereas others might decide it meant within the previous six months.

  “My mother?”

  Jack grinned at me. “You know, similar height to you, dyed blonde hair, nice clothes, and quite slender?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen anyone matching that description since the night of the… y’know.”

  Jack looked at me seriously. “We want to talk to her again, but I can’t seem to track her down. I even went to her house this morning but no one answered the door.”

  “She was probably sleeping late with a hangover,” I said, embracing my inner mischievous streak.

  “Ah… right. Well, if you do see her, could you let her know that we’re looking for her?”

  “Of course. Is she still a suspect?”

  Jack tilted his head to one side. “You know I don’t think she did it—not your mother of all people. But we haven’t actually been able to eliminate her from our inquiries yet either. That’s why we want to speak to her again, to see if there’s anything else she can tell us that would either help us find who did it, or at least remove her from suspicion.”

  It seemed reasonable to me. I toyed briefly with the idea of what would happen if I invited Jack upstairs. The fireworks would definitely be something to remember.

  But no, I wasn’t going to turn my mother in, not with her looking like she did at the moment. She would never forgive me. And the town would never forget.

  “When you do see her, could you get her to give me a call?”

  “I’ll d
efinitely do that for you,” I said. “I can’t promise she’ll actually listen, mind you, but I’ll try!”

  Jack smiled at me, his green eyes seeming to light up. “That’s all we can do, isn’t it? We can but try.”

  “Exactly. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

  Jack paused for just a moment. He wanted to, and his body language all but shouted it.

  “I’d love to, actually. I really would. But unfortunately, it’s non-stop at the moment. We’ll do it soon though, okay? And it’ll be me getting the drink, not you.”

  I beamed at him.

  “Sounds good.”

  Before he left, while he was standing by the door, he looked over his shoulder a final time.

  “Goodbye, Aria.”

  I gave a little wave.

  And with a ding! of the bell above the door, he was gone.

  A few minutes after Jack had gone, I was leaning back against the counter doing nothing but daydreaming. I was all alone for once, and it was nice to have a break from it all, a few moments of peaceful bliss, even if it was short.

  Very short, as it turned out.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  It wasn’t the sound of human knuckles on wood. It was a different kind of knock.

  This was the knock of a parrot’s beak on a door it wanted to open but couldn’t.

  “Hold on, Ki, I’m coming.”

  As soon as I’d opened the door that connected the shop to the small passageway that led upstairs or outside, he was in. With a flutter of feathers and an angry screech, he launched himself into the shop and landed on the counter.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, though I could probably guess.

  With another screech that sounded like a wounded monkey he let me know that he was annoyed. Very annoyed.

  “Was it Mom?”

  An angry caw confirmed that it was, indeed, my mother who had upset him.

  “What did she do this time?”

  Kiwi took a moment to compose himself. He spread out his wings, fluffed up his feathers, and then brought them back in close. He shook his little head, hopping into the air and back down again to get everything settled in place.

  “She tried to kill me!”

  “What!?” I knew Mom wasn’t fond of Kiwi—or birds in general—but surely she wouldn’t try and murder my pet, would she?

  “Murder! Attempted murder!” he cried.

  “What did she do?”

  I paced up and down the shop in front of Kiwi while he prepared himself to give his indignant explanation of what had gone on. Mom had only been up there a few minutes but she’d made quite an impact on Kiwi today. At least his fudge hangover seemed to have cleared up.

  “She opened the window—on the second floor—and tried to push me out!”

  I cocked my head at him. “That’s it?”

  He flapped his wings in anger at my response.

  “The second floor, Aria! How would you like it if I pushed you out of the second-floor window? I could have plummeted to my death!”

  I had to stop myself from laughing.

  “Kiwi. You’ve. Got. Wings.”

  He fluttered his wings and glanced at them, annoyed.

  “So?”

  “So unless you’re even lazier than I think, you wouldn’t have plummeted to your death.”

  “She didn’t know that!”

  A small giggle escaped my lips before I could regain my composure and look serious for Kiwi’s benefit again.

  “My mother is clueless about many things, but she is aware that birds can—and indeed do—fly.”

  “So you’re taking her side?”

  “No!” I said in alarm. “Of course not! I just don’t think you were in quite as much danger as you made it sound. She was terribly rude though. I’ll have a word with her if you like.”

  “Good luck,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “I know what you mean. She’s not a very good listener, is she?”

  Kiwi shook his little head and made a parrot’s chattering sound, which was roughly equivalent to him giggling. “She won’t listen, because she’s not there.”

  “She’s not there? What happened?”

  Kiwi shrugged his wings and began to walk up and down across the counter.

  “She just left.”

  “Just left? For no reason? What, did she just roll away?”

  Kiwi cackled in delight. “Almost. After the attempted murder, I started dropping things on her.”

  “Things? Like what?”

  He shrugged his wings again and looked around innocently.

  “Like what, Ki?”

  “Oh. A book. A kitchen spatula. A rolling pin. A couple of mugs. Just stuff.”

  I flicked my head around to glare at him. “Did you make a mess?”

  Kiwi started to express his denial with an irritated chitter. When he was done with his parrot noises, he went back to speaking.

  “If there’s a mess, it’s her fault for trying to murder me,” he said with a dramatic sniff.

  “You can clean it up.”

  “With my wings?” he said. “Ha!”

  He had a point. I’d tried to get him to help clean up in the past, but strangely, things just got messier and messier. It was almost as if he didn’t want to help.

  “And you don’t know where my mother has gone?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” he said and cackled to himself again.

  “Great. Well, at least if Jack asks me again, I won’t have to be dishonest.”

  Kiwi stopped his pacing and gave me a serious look. “Now break out the cheese puffs. That attempt on my life made me hungry.”

  I rolled my eyes and complied. It had been a long day, but things weren’t about to slow down yet.

  Chapter 15

  The next day, I began to feel a little bit guilty and a little bit worried about my mother. She was normally such a confident woman, one who drew much of that confidence from pride in her appearance. The effects of the backfired spell were no doubt having a horrific effect. There was no way she would have let herself be bested by a parrot under normal circumstances.

  First, I tried calling her house, but unsurprisingly there was no answer. After that, I dropped by but the place was absolutely deserted. I know that for a fact because, unlike Jack, I had a key and I let myself in to have a look.

  “Are you sure she didn’t say anything, Ki?”

  “Nope. She just ran, I mean… what’s the word?”

  “What word?”

  “The word for walking like a duck.”

  “Waddled?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Yes! That’s it! Waddled. Waddle, waddle, waddle,” said Kiwi to himself, over and over.

  “Ki?” I asked, interrupting him.

  “Oh. Yes. She waddled away crying.” He began to march up and down the counter, lifting his little legs to imitate a high-step. “Sob, sob. Waddle, waddle. Sob, sob, waddle, waddle.” He finished marching up and down and let loose another delightedly wicked cackle.

  “Crying!?” That was completely unlike my mother. The only time she ever shed tears was when she missed a jewelry sale. I was starting to feel a bit alarmed.

  “Yes. It was very funny.” He began to march up and down again. “Waddle, waddle, boohoo, boohoo…”

  I glared sternly at him. He could be a cruel little menace sometimes. Though in his defense, my mother had been trying to make me get rid of Kiwi for years; he had a right to his animosity toward her. Mom really had a way of bringing out the worst in people. And parrots.

  “I’m going to try a spell,” I said.

  “You should turn her into a duck. Then we’ll see who’s a ‘fudging feathered freak.’”

  “Did she say that?”

  Kiwi nodded his head up and down. “Oh yes. She says mean things to me all the time. Do the magic spell!”

  I began to rummage through some of the magic supplies I kept down behind the counter. From one drawer, I took out a little cauldron, a
nd from another a little bag of mixed dried herbs—though not the kind you’d pick up in a supermarket.

  “I’m not going to turn her into a duck. I’m going to use a spell to find her.”

  Kiwi smacked the countertop with a talon. “Haven’t you got a spell that does the opposite?”

  “What, like a losing spell? We’ve already lost her.”

  He shrugged his wings. “Well then, pack it in, we’re done.”

  “No, Kiwi. She may be a horrible person sometimes, but she’s still my mother and I lo… I have to put up with her. I’m sure she didn’t mean all of those mean things he said to you. She’s in a bit of a state at the moment.”

  Kiwi gave a dismissive caw and flew up onto the bookshelf to watch me.

  I set some charcoal burning in the bottom of the little iron cauldron, and put the herbs on top. After murmuring a few magic words, I spun around three times and then peered into the smoke that was drifting up.

  When I was satisfied with the cloudiness of the smoke, I dropped a single hair on top—a blonde one with a gray root.

  Peering into the swirling smoke, I waited for the blurriness to disappear and an image of my mother to appear.

  It didn’t.

  I peered at the nothingness again. “It’s not working.”

  “Good,” said Kiwi.

  I stopped looking at the smoke for a brief moment to glower at my familiar before peering into the burning haze again. Nothing. Not a jot.

  With a sigh, I dropped a metal lid over the cauldron to extinguish it.

  “I guess you got your way, Kiwi. It’s not going to work. I don’t know if it’s a side effect from that spell Mom tried to use on Sandra, or whether it’s because she’s under some kind of magical protection, but I can’t locate her at all.”

  “Maybe someone pushed her out of a second-floor window.”

  “Kiwi!” I said, shocked. “Hang on now. That’s a bit much.”

  “Sorry,” he said with only a smidgeon of repentance in his voice.

  Before we could continue, my phone began to ring. I put the cauldron down behind the counter and looked at my phone—there was Jack’s name on the screen.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hi, Aria, it’s me.”

  “I know,” I said.