“Don’t tell your cousin that, though, unless that would amuse you. Wyatt is pretty much bulletproof.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s not interested in her.”
“He’s been laughing and flirting with her all night.”
“Sure, but he hit on Vanessa and you first. He’s just looking for action. As for laughing and flirting with Plenty, he does that with everyone he wants to sleep with, and he is pretty much willing to sleep with everyone and anyone. She’s here for a week, right?”
I nodded.
“If she doesn’t sleep with him right away, his goal will be to get her in the sack before she leaves because he hasn’t slept with her. If she does sleep with him right away and he’s had a good time, he’ll have sex with her all week until she leaves. Then it’s out of sight and out of mind for him.”
“That’s both comforting and appalling,” I said.
“I don’t approve of what he does, but I don’t approve of what she seems to be planning, either. They can use each other for the week.”
“You really don’t think they’ll get serious?” I hedged.
“Does your cousin have a six- or seven-figure bank account?”
“No.”
“Neither does Wyatt. They’ll just have a fling and cancel each other out.”
“I still think I’m more worried about what she’s got in mind,” I admitted.
“I really don’t think they’re going to end up anywhere. I don’t think Wyatt has ever been in love, and I don’t think Plenty is going to be the one to break his streak.”
“What about you? Have you ever been in love?” I asked, instantly worrying I’d brought the L-word up too soon.
“I might be in love now,” Roger said, smiling at me in a mysterious way, squeezing my hand. I felt myself blushing at the look in his eyes. I quickly turned away, unsure what I wanted to do or say next.
“She’s not going to get anywhere serious with him,” Roger added, while pulling my hair back and planting a kiss on my neck. “Haven’t you noticed the whole night’s conversation has been all about her? As fascinating as she thinks she might be, I doubt anyone else will find her half as charming. I’m sorry if that sounded harsh.”
“It didn’t,” a male voice said. Roger and I turned, surprised to see that Ethan and Vanessa had sidled near us. Vanessa gave him a look. “What? Oh,” he paused. “Don’t insult your boss’s family?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, waving off the comment. “She used to be more fun when we were kids.”
“Was she really?” Vanessa asked.
“She was, before she started putting on airs. Then she got some ideas in her head that she could be a model or someone famous, and, I don’t know, things changed.”
Our little party began to break up. I was glad for that; after so much food, wine and family, I was ready to unwind and hit the sack.
Plenty didn’t seem willing to end the night just yet. She clearly was angling to go home with Wyatt, but Aunt Lindy pulled her away, insisting she spend the evening with her family. I saw her whisper something to Plenty, too, and my cousin finally stilled and agreed to leave with Mom, Tom and Aunt Lindy, demurely saying goodbye to Roger’s brother.
“What do you think your aunt said to your cousin?” Vanessa asked.
“Probably something about not giving away the milk,” Roger said.
“That’s exactly what it was.” Jordan had crossed over to our group. “I also overheard her say something about leaving Wyatt wanting more.”
“Ah, your cousin is a piece of work,” Vanessa said. While Roger chatted with Ethan, she leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Roger could not take his eyes off you all night, though. Did you notice that?”
“No, I hadn’t realized that, but I like hearing it.”
“Glad to be of service.”
15
I WENT HOME that night, fed Fido and Puck, and settled down on my loveseat to flip through a trashy celebrity gossip magazine. After my mother’s intense worrying and all the family frenzy, I just wanted a quiet night to myself. Besides, Roger needed to be up early the next day. An employee’s wife had gone into labor, and the new dad wouldn’t be at work.
After showering and piling my hair into a towel, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, hoping it was Roger, but instead discovered Plenty standing on my front step. My aunt’s LTD was parked in front of my house.
“Oh. Hi. Come on in.”
“Hi, cuz. The party ended so early I thought I’d stop over and see if you wanted to go out for a drink.”
I pointed to my damp hair. “No. It’s been a long day and as you can see I already washed my hair and took off my makeup.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I get that you don’t want to go out in public like that.”
Well, consider me offended. “Like what? I could go out with just a touch of mascara and pin my hair up, but I do have to open my shop early tomorrow morning.”
“Whatever.” She looked bored. “How about we stay in and have a few drinks. It’s not like running that shop is rocket science. And how often do we get to see each other and catch up.”
“Since I’m there all day, I prefer not to endure it while hung over.”
“You used to party more.”
“‘Used to’ being the key words here.”
She flopped down on my couch, grabbed my magazine and flipped through it in a disinterested way.
“So, how long have you known Wyatt?” she asked.
“Not too long. About a month.”
“What about Roger?”
“About the same.” I started telling her about meeting him, finding myself wanting to go on about all the things I liked about him, but I could see she wasn’t interested so I clamped my mouth shut. It’s no fun sharing your happiness with someone who doesn’t care to hear about it.
“I noticed he wasn’t drinking during dinner.”
“He’s in A.A.”
Her eyes went round with surprise. “Really? That has to suck.”
“I don’t see how.”
“You still drink,” she pressed. “How can that work?”
“He doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. And hey, I get a date and a designated driver out of the deal.” Roger occasionally hung out at the Classy Dive, where his friend – and my ex – Scott tended bar. “I think you can get past the drinking enough where you don’t need to hide from the world without fear of breaking your sobriety.”
She shrugged. “It just seems like that would be a conflict of interest somehow.”
“I guess, but Tom and my mother get on well, and she still drinks.”
“But Aunt Fiona doesn’t drink much anymore, either,” she said. “She had, like, two glasses of wine at dinner.”
Plenty obviously hadn’t looked down to that end of the table too much. Mom had definitely had more than two glasses. It was more that she drained the contents of her goblet twice, and topped it off frequently.
I changed the subject. “So, you seem to be hitting it off with Wyatt.”
Her face suddenly came alive and she nodded her head vigorously. “I think he really likes me.”
“Do you like him?”
She shrugged. “He is a babe. It sounds like his family is rich, too.”
“But, do you like him?”
She fussed with something on her sweater. “I already said he’s cute. He seems fun.”
“Well, I guess that’s good.”
She set the magazine down and looked at what else I had on my coffee table. Her eyes landed on a book I had open, and she hunched over the tome with interest.
“Glamouring,” she murmured. “Is that what you’re practicing?”
I shook my head. “I was just flipping through my latest book purchase, and happened to leave off on glamouring.”
She picked up the book and leaned back on my sofa, engrossed.
Something sharp scented the air, something green and unformed
. It made me feel itchy and anxious.
“What do you know about glamouring?” she asked. “Can you really make yourself look more beautiful or more successful with a spell?”
“I really can’t say. I’ve never tried it, and I haven’t read up on it very much. My understanding,” I told her, “is that you could do an enchantment to make others find you more beautiful. You could also do something to make people notice you, or to present a more confident version of yourself. You could also do something to render yourself more invisible, to blend in.”
“And you’ve never done any of those types of charms?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I suspect sometimes I glamour myself a bit so I kind of look more like an eccentric shopkeeper instead of as a witch, to stay beneath the radar.”
“What if you could use it to get more out of life? A large house? Money? A fancy car? Designer clothing? Travel? Wouldn’t you want to live in a big city where things are happening?”
“I don’t think it’s all bad here.”
“Well sure, you found a guy and you have a shop that seems to be doing well despite being stuck in a hick town.”
“I know some people like the big city, but I like it here. I live in a place where I can leave my front door unlocked. I know my neighbors and many people around town. I have good friends.”
She shrugged. “But it seems like such a boring place. Just a small city surrounded by woods and water and fields. When we went to dinner tonight, no one was really dressed up. Out on the street, it was pretty much all jeans and sweatshirts and flannels. It’s so drab and sad.”
“We are kind of casual here, but I like it. And I like the woods and the water and the fields. I don’t feel ‘stuck’ in some hick town. Far from it.”
“Obviously. You couldn’t get back up north fast enough once you graduated high school. I guess you had something cooking.”
“I’m home here. That’s about the only way I can put it. I feel like this is where I’m meant to be, and I’m happy. Why would I want to change anything?”
“Still, you wouldn’t want to be beautiful?” she asked. “Imagine the doors it could open for you.”
I felt somewhat insulted. She could have at least said more beautiful or prettier, couldn’t she? I knew I wasn’t going to wearing a tiara and a sash any time soon, but still.
“I’m fine with how I look.” Sure, I sometimes wished I looked a little skinnier or a bit more put together, but I wasn’t going to worry about it. People tended to judge themselves the harshest. I was fairly certain that anyone who spent too much time wanting to criticize a spot of my face or the frizz in my hair had too much time on their hands and not enough compassion in their hearts.
“But still, if you could use magic to dazzle people – to make them think you’re rich or gorgeous – why wouldn’t you? What if you could look like Vanessa, even for a day?”
“What’s the point of me trying to make other people believe that I’m prettier or richer than I am? I’ve honestly never really thought of it. Well, okay, once or twice I’ve wondered what it would be like to look like Vanessa. But I’m healthy. I have a job I love and an income that keeps me afloat. I have family, friends, a home. I have a relationship getting underway that seems off to a strong start. I’m happy with that. Besides, if I’m not Vanessa, why would I want to go through life as her? That’s too much work to create some kind of shield or camouflage to make people think something else of me.”
She gave me a look of disbelief.
“You’re not happy?” I asked.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you seriously seem into the idea of glamouring yourself. I can hear the gears grinding. I don’t know why you seem to want to look more glamourous. You have blonde hair, a beautiful face, and long legs. Men check you out when you enter a room. You’ve been dealt a nice hand by Mother Nature. You’re smart and can be funny and clever. What more would you want?”
She preened under the compliment, but quickly turned serious.
“Wouldn’t you like to try, just once?”
“No.”
“Just to experiment? Something fun for us cousins to do together?”
“I don’t want to go where I think you want to go,” I said. “It sounds like you want to present yourself as something other than what you are. In that case, count me out.”
She tried to erase the eagerness from her expression, but I saw the hunger there. Her shoulders sagged and she sighed. “It just got me curious. I mean, it does sound kind of cool, doesn’t it?” She set the book down on the coffee table.
I knew she was trying to tempt me. “I’m not going to do anything that changes appearances or perceptions.”
“Not even a little bit of magic?”
I shook my head.
She pulled up her purse, which was large and looked heavy. “Then how about if I do your makeup? I can contour your face to make it look thinner.”
“You mention dieting and suggest making my face look thinner. I’m around one-forty. I don’t think I need to be made to look skinnier.”
“You’re one-hundred-forty pounds?” Plenty looked incredulous. “I can’t believe you’d admit that!”
“What? I’m five-six. That’s not a bad weight.”
She pulled out her phone and began fiddling with the screen. “Never mind the garcinia. I’m going to email you this amazing diet. I promise, if you follow it to the letter you’ll be down ten pounds in two weeks.”
“Ten pounds?”
She nodded. “I’d follow it for a month, maybe two. Then you should be at your goal weight.”
“Are you saying I need to lose twenty or more pounds?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. “I’m not saying you need to, but why wouldn’t you want to?”
“I feel fine the way I am, thank you very much.”
“You can’t be serious.” She poked at my side. “That’s not muscle, and it’s not bone.”
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Let’s drop this subject. I’m tired and want a good night’s sleep.
“I guess I’m tired, too,” she sighed, “and should go back to Aunt Fiona’s.”
“You’re welcome to crash here for the night.” Her face brightened at the offer. “I don’t have a spare bed, but you can either sleep on the couch or bunk with me,” I said.
“If I can have a blanket and a pillow I’d be fine to sleep down here. I had a bit too much wine at dinner, so sleep sounds good.”
I fetched her what she requested and wished her a good night.
When I awoke the next morning, I found Plenty seated at my kitchen table, her nose buried in the glamouring book.
She had her phone next to her on the table.
“More selfies?”
She looked up at me. “What?”
“Your phone is out. I was just wondering if you were taking more selfies.”
“Oh God, no,” she protested. “I don’t have my hair done or my makeup on.”
“You look just fine the way you are. You have nice skin and your hair has that pretty bedhead wildness to it.”
Plenty picked up her phone and snapped a selfie of herself. As she examined the image, she squinched up her face and shook her head in disapproval. “Nope,” she said as she deleted the photo.
Okay, I thought to myself. I thought she looked good, but she clearly wasn’t happy with what she was seeing. She continued poring over the book.
“Still got your fancy, eh?” I asked, as I began making coffee for us.
“It’s interesting,” she said. “There are so many ways to glamour, and so many results.” She looked up at me. “I don’t see how you could resist trying a couple of these spells.”
“Magic takes its toll,” I explained as I poured kibble into the cats’ dishes. “It takes energy and concentration. Besides, I’m pretty happy with my looks, so I don’t want to rock the boat.”
I poured two mugs of
coffee and sat next to her at the table.
“Do you want breakfast? I could whip something up,” I offered.
She shook her head. “I’m watching my figure.”
“Seriously? You are model thin. You can afford a bit of fuel.”
“Thanks, but I did have a lot of food last night and a lot to drink.”
More liquid calories than anything, I thought to myself. I rose and went to fry a couple eggs for myself. When she saw me pull the carton out of the refrigerator, she looked longingly at it.
“You sure you don’t want an egg or two? They’re seventy or eighty calories a pop. And they’re a good source of protein. It’ll fuel you for the day.”
She looked conflicted for a moment. “Okay, two eggs, scrambled. No butter, please.”
I smiled as I reached into the fridge and threw a couple slices of ham in the pan. She was rail thin. A slice of ham and a couple eggs wouldn’t hurt her one bit.
A few minutes later I set Plenty’s ham and eggs in front of her.
“What’s this?” Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed at her plate.
“Ham.”
“I can’t eat this.”
“We’re not Jewish. Last I recall you’re not a vegetarian, either.”
“It’s too many calories. I need to watch my figure.”
“For who? It’s colder up here. You may as well fuel up a bit. You can take a walk around downtown and burn it off if you’re so inclined. Show yourself off to the merchants and whatnot. They’ll love seeing a fresh face.”
“This is a tourist town,” she argued.
“It’s also a small town and they know their regulars. You can walk around and make small talk. You’re probably the skinniest girl in town, aside from two or three anorexic girls at the college. Tuck in.”
She finally picked up her fork and carved off a sliver of ham, bringing it to her lips. She took a bite and closed her eyes. “Oh, that is good.”
“See. Live a little. It’s ham. It’s not chicken-healthy, but it’s not bacon-bad. The whole breakfast can’t be more than three hundred calories. Skip lunch if it makes you feel better about it.”
Plenty of Trouble Page 11