Plenty of Trouble

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Plenty of Trouble Page 19

by Magenta Wilde

Before any of us had time to call or even make a guess, we heard another rapping on the door.

  “I’ll go and check this time,” I volunteered. A minute later Plenty and Aunt Lindy followed me in. “Look who found the trail of bread crumbs.”

  “Oh, what a lovely house, Roger,” Aunt Lindy smiled at him.

  “Thank you. Would you like some pasta?”

  A few minutes earlier I had hopes of getting a very serious itch scratched. Instead Roger was feeding my family and they were fueling my frustrations.

  After eating, Plenty and Tom settled on the couch to watch a movie, and Roger pulled out a Scrabble game.

  “I wouldn’t play that,” Tom warned.

  “Why?” Roger asked. “I love Scrabble.” He turned to me. “Do you not like Scrabble?”

  “I happen to love it,” I said.

  “So do I,” Mom said as she snatched the game and began setting up the board. “I’m a whiz at this. Prepare to be dazzled.”

  “See?” Roger said. “We all like to play. It’s all good.”

  Tom opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. “Eh, we’ll let this be a learning experience.”

  My phone rang the next morning and I picked up when I saw it was Roger.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice still husky from slumber.

  “I slept alright. I think I would have slept better if the night had progressed without my mother and the rest of my family interrupting.”

  “You and me both. I had plans to ‘smoonk’ you. With any luck we would have 'smoonk-ed’ two or three times.”

  I chuckled, remembering the made-up word my mother had crafted and insisted was real, especially since it landed on a triple-word square.

  “Is it normal for Fiona to throw the board across the room when she can’t use a word?”

  “It depends on how much wine has been drunk and/or how much money is at stake. For the record, I was looking forward to ‘smoonk-ing’ you, too.”

  He sighed. “Maybe another time.”

  “Definitely another time,” I corrected. “Preferably when the family is gone. Maybe we can hole ourselves up somewhere and ‘smoonk’ uninterrupted.”

  “With the magic and spells you have in your arsenal, you wouldn’t happen to have something to render us invisible from Fiona’s prying eyes, would you?”

  “I don’t, but it definitely bears researching. Or we find a way to get Tom to distract her. Maybe I’ll tell him how much she really paid for those red sequined shoes she loves so much.”

  Roger chuckled and wished me a good morning, promising to see me later. “I’ll bring you a coffee from Emily’s.”

  “I would love that. And maybe Emily has something she can recommend to calm my mother down,” I teased. “Or make my family leave town early.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask.”

  25

  AS I CLOSED my shop for the day, Plenty emerged from Thingamajigs dressed in skintight jeans and a sparkly white long-sleeved sweater that ended a couple inches above her belly button. One shoulder was bare to show off her collarbone. She looked more bronzed. Her makeup was slightly more subdued, and she looked especially glowy this evening.

  My mother followed her, a cigarette dangling from her lip, smoke trailing behind her as she puffed away.

  “What do you think?” Plenty said as she turned around for me to inspect her.

  “That white is very pretty on you,” I said.

  “Thank you, cousin,” she smiled. “I talked to Wyatt earlier. He said he’d meet me at the Towne Tavern later. He said he had some things to do at work that were keeping him late.”

  “Sounds like he’s trying to get out of buying you dinner,” my mother snorted.

  Plenty shook her head. “He said he had important things to do.” She turned back to me. “Do you know where that bar is?”

  I nodded.

  “How about we go out to dinner beforehand? We can gab, catch up on each other’s lives.”

  My mother gave me a telling look and mimed chattering behind Plenty’s back.

  “I guess we could. I need to go home first and feed the cats. I may as well change, too.”

  “Good idea,” Plenty said. “You can dress up a bit, too. Put something nice on.”

  I looked down at what I was wearing. Dark jeans and a periwinkle blue sweater. I didn’t think it was all that bad. It wasn’t even shapeless. I gave Plenty a dark look.

  “What? I’m trying to bring a bit of glamour to your lives,” Plenty said.

  An hour later I was finishing a margarita at Padre’s and motioning for the waitress to bring another and more tortilla chips as I listened to Plenty chatter about her life. Halfway through my first drink I’d given up any hope of getting a word in edgewise. As the server brought my second margarita, I wondered how many drinks it would take to drown her out entirely.

  I noticed a spell of quiet and realized Plenty was looking at me, waiting for an answer.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, collecting myself. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

  “Really? Is it a cute guy?”

  I shook my head. “I was mistaken. You were saying?”

  She held out her wrist to me and invited me to sniff. “What do you think? It’s my newest perfume. I blended it myself.”

  I took a whiff. It was fruity, with notes of peach, raspberry and caramel, with some strange floral undercurrent to it. It reminded me of a peach schnapps hangover I’d once endured after a night at a carnival. “It’s … very sweet.”

  “It’s supposed to be. It’s meant to be mouth-watering.”

  “Well, if you like the candy store, this would be your thing.”

  She gave me a dirty look.

  “I mean, it’s nice in its way. I just prefer citrusy scents or florals is all. I’d rather eat my candy, not wear it. Sweet perfumes are popular now, so you’ve probably got a home run there.” Just not with me, I thought to myself.

  She waved me off, taking a long sip of her chardonnay.

  “Does it have a name?”

  “I’m calling it Compel. I’m going to test it out on the town tonight. If it’s a hit, I’m going to sell it on Etsy.”

  “That’s an interesting name.” The most interesting part of the syrup-y scent, I thought. “It’s cool that you’re getting creative, too.”

  She smiled. “Maybe you’ll want to sell it in your shop.”

  I inwardly groaned. That’s what I was afraid of. I get lots of people wanting to sell impulse items in my store. Just because someone made a bar of soap out of a craft-store kit doesn’t make them a bona-fide artisan.

  “Well, let’s see what kind of feedback it gets tonight,” I offered, hoping my smile didn’t look too fake. “If people are asking about it, then we’d have to make it easy for them to find it.”

  The waitress brought our meals. I tucked into my fajitas with gusto. Plenty had ordered the same thing, but she merely picked at her peppers and shrimp.

  “You’re not eating much,” I said through a mouthful of caramelized onion and steak.

  “I don’t want bad breath when I go and meet Wyatt tonight. You should be careful since you’re seeing Roger. What if he shows up at the Towne Tavern tonight? You don’t want to drive him away.”

  It was true I didn’t want to have bad breath. I shrugged. “If I see him I’ll say I’m hungry and want to split an order of onion rings. I know he likes those. We’ll be fine then if we’re oniony together.”

  “That’s not romantic or sexy at all.”

  “I’ve already eaten some onion, so it’s too late. Plus we’ve gone through some more serious crap than bad breath. He’s not that shallow or fussy.”

  “Again, that’s not sexy in the least.”

  “Like I said, I think we’re past worrying about that sort of thing.” We’d relived his sister’s death in a horrible car crash many years ago, and endured his sister’s ghost possessing me and making me kiss my ex-boyfriend Scott in front of him at
nearly the same time. I figured we had something potentially pretty solid if we made it through all that drama unscathed.

  “You could be doing so much better with the right amount of effort,” Plenty pressed.

  “What exactly do you mean?” I spotted the waitress and pointed toward my margarita and gave her a quick nod.

  “Well, that there. You just ordered another drink. You clearly have a problem.”

  “So says the woman who has been holding onto her glass of chardonnay like a two-year-old with a sippy cup.”

  Her expression darkened. “And do you know how many calories are in those things? And how many carbs and how much sodium is in those chips and salsa you keep polishing off?”

  “I’m stress eating and stress drinking at this point,” I muttered.

  “From what?”

  “Go dig out your new compact and take a gander inside.”

  She appeared for a moment like she’d been caught, then looked annoyed. “Wait? Are you saying I’m stressing you out? I am simply offering some loving and heartfelt advice. You could be doing so much better with hair that’s less loud and tacky. You could be eating healthier. Then you could be dating better than some lowly mechanic.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, I could throw the same crap at you. You just work in a shop, you know. You don’t own one.”

  “It’s some silly witch shop. It’s hardly anything to brag about.”

  I inhaled deeply and continued. “I’m proud of my shop. I put a lot of work into it. And as for my hair, it’s bright red, yes, but I happen to like it. You’re not exactly the queen of all things natural yourself. Your hair color is far from believable. Your skin tone comes in a bottle. Hell, your whole face comes courtesy of makeup pans and foundation bottles. You also drink too much, though I guess the way you pick at your food, it’s your sole source of nutrition. And on top of that you’re a gold-digging bitch who insults a really nice, responsible and hot guy who I happen to really like, while you go chasing after his brother purely in hopes of a slice of the family pie.” At that point the waitress brought my third margarita and I immediately took a long drink through the straw.

  I was pretty sure the evening was about to come to a close, when a hand clapped my back, startling me. “Look at this. Poppy is all feisty and fired up. I hope I didn’t miss all the fireworks.”

  I turned and felt a surge of relief. It was my good friend Trish Reynolds. I was always happy to see her, but I couldn’t even put into words how happy I was to see her lanky, elegant frame at that moment.

  I stood up and gave her a warm hug in greeting.

  “Family visit going that badly?” she whispered in my ear.

  “Well apparently I’m a drunk on the road to fatness and I’m settling for a lowly mechanic.”

  “Well, what a bitch,” she murmured as she gave my rear a playful slap. “You’re none of those things. And that mechanic comes from pretty good money and he’s hot as hell.”

  She gave me an encouraging smile and turned toward her date.

  I stood back and gave him a once over. “And who might this be?”

  Trish turned and smiled. “This is Mike. He’s the guy who gave my car a jump that night I got stranded in the boondocks.” She leaned in and whispered once more in my ear. “With any luck, tonight he’ll be giving me a jump, if you know what I mean.”

  I smiled and nodded at him, holding out my hand to the tall, bearded man. He had lively eyes and an easy grin.

  “And I see cousin Plenty is in town,” Trish said. My friend and cousin gave one another cursory nods.

  Trish had met Plenty a couple times in years past and never warmed to her. Plenty in turn never liked Trish much either. Trish was five-foot-nine, brunette and olive-complexioned, and more than confident enough to stand her ground against Plenty. She also had an easy self-assurance that many men found appealing.

  “Have a seat for a second, if you’d like,” I offered. “I know you two are on a date, but feel free to visit with us for a few minutes while you wait for a booth to clear up.”

  I introduced Mike to Plenty and they shook hands. He told our waitress they’d visit with us until a booth was available, and he sat next to Trish, leaning an arm across the back of her chair and gently massaging her shoulder. They looked happy together.

  “So where is your man this evening?” Trish asked. “I assume you’re still going hot and heavy.”

  “We’re good,” I said. “I’m just having dinner with Plenty before she goes to meet Wyatt at the Towne Tavern later tonight.”

  Trish raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Wyatt?” She turned an eye to Plenty. “You two made a date.”

  Plenty nodded. “We met at dinner the other night and hit it off. Excuse me. I need to visit the ladies’ room.” She smiled as she stood before making a theatrical turn and heading toward the back of the restaurant.

  “Why isn’t Wyatt here now, if they’ve hit it off?” Trish asked.

  “He had something he needed to handle at the lumber mill.”

  Trish gave me a look. She knew Wyatt had no real responsibility at the family business. She leaned in toward me once again. “I’m guessing he’s low on funds, or he doesn’t want to pay for dinner.”

  “Is this Wyatt Montgomery?” Mike chimed in, suddenly alert.

  We nodded in unison.

  “Pah,” he raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. “The Towne Tavern has ladies’ night tonight. All women drink free. That’s probably why he’s meeting her there. He’s notoriously broke. Owes my brother a grand. Disappears every time he brings it up.” Mike looked at me. “What time are they meeting there? Do you know?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. After dinner, so maybe between nine and ten?”

  Mike whipped out his phone and texted something.

  “Whatcha doin’, babe?” Trish asked, peering over his shoulder.

  “Texting my brother. Letting him know where Wyatt will be.”

  “Oh, now this is getting interesting,” I said.

  “Feeling a hankering for some ladies’ night action?” Trish teased.

  “I may have to go pay a visit. Because I’m thirsty and on a budget. Yeah, that’s it,” I said.

  Trish smiled. I spotted Plenty making her way back to the table, her face freshly polished.

  “She still loves her makeup,” Trish said.

  “Indeed she does.”

  The waitress told Trish and Mike that a booth was ready, so the pair stood and began to follow her. Trish leaned down and gave me an encouraging hug. “Power through. Fake a migraine if you need to. When she goes back to Detroit, we’ll circle the Sault in salt to keep her out.”

  I chuckled and nodded as I squeezed her shoulder in thanks.

  Plenty pulled her chair back out as Mike and Trish walked to the other side of the restaurant. She waved a perfumed wrist at them as they left. Mike halted for a moment and turned to look at her, frozen in place. A curious look crossed his face. Trish gave him a strong tug and uprooted him from his spot. He shook his head before following her to the booth. He was about to sit where he’d have a view of our table, but Trish directed him to the opposite side. Before he sat she gave him a deep, smoldering kiss and pushed him onto the bench.

  I looked at Plenty and she too had a curious look on her face, one that mingled triumph and frustration.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She came out of her reverie and trained her eyes on me. “Sure. Fine.”

  “I see you were compelled to add a bit more of your perfume while you were in the bathroom,” I mused.

  “Yes, with all this fried food smell floating around, I thought I’d sweeten up my wrists and behind my ears.”

  “Well, it is sweet,” I agreed.

  I drained my margarita with gusto, enjoying the look of disgust Plenty gave me. I made it a point to eat all my fajitas as well, noisily slurping up onion as I made my way through my dinner. When the waitress came around again I ordered fried ice cream and
moaned my way through the rich dessert, each bite sweeter as Plenty’s expression darkened. By the time I paid – Plenty had conveniently forgotten her credit card and neglected to bring cash – my stomach was aching with fullness.

  “You ate like a pig,” Plenty chided as we made our way to the Towne Tavern. She paused to light a cigarette.

  “I was celebrating seeing my family. What can I say? Will Wyatt approve of your smoking? You’ll stink.”

  “I rarely smoke …”

  “If you smoke as little as you eat, I guess you’ll be okay.”

  “I need something to calm my nerves after watching you wolf down enough food to feed a family of four.”

  “I seriously think that could have fed a family of six, but who’s counting. But back to the smoking. You’ll smell all cigarette-y for Wyatt. Are you sure you want that? You didn’t want me to stink of onion for Roger.”

  “I’ve given up on improving your romantic life. And I’m certainly not taking advice from you. If you don’t want my helpful suggestions, then don’t take them,” she snapped.

  “All right. I don’t, so I won’t.”

  She scowled as she paused in front of one of the bars on the way to the Towne. “Which one of these has a nice bathroom with good lighting?”

  “What?”

  “I need to touch up my makeup before meeting Wyatt. The bathroom in that Mexican place had bad lighting. I need to check that I’m looking good.”

  “You look fine. Your makeup is intact. Your hair looks good. That sweater looks nice against your tan. What more do you need?”

  She turned and looked back in the direction from which we’d come. “Wait. There’s the hotel. They had a nice bathroom.” She began walking that way.

  “You’re going back to the place we ate at the other night just so you can fuss with your makeup?”

  “Exactly. And stop walking so slow. You should walk quicker so you burn off some of that booze and greasy food.”

  I slowed my pace to spite her, stopping and pausing to look in storefronts like I was a tourist who’d never seen a painting of a freighter or an “Up North” sweatshirt before. She gave me a dirty look and powered ahead.

 

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