Magic Uncorked: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Magic Cocktail Club Book 1)

by Annabel Chase

  Kate inched closer to place a motherly hand on her friend’s forehead. “No fever.”

  Libbie swatted her hand away. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

  “I am, I swear, but I’m also worried about you. This isn’t the Libbie I know.”

  Libbie flicked a dismissive finger. “That Libbie is gone. She’s like good girl Sandy in Grease.”

  Kate folded her arms. “If you strut through town in black leather and heels, I’m staging an intervention.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

  “Sandy changed for Danny, remember? We loved the movie, but we hated that part.”

  Libbie remembered it well. She also remembered thinking that Rizzo was the most authentic character in the movie.

  “Well, good news,” Libbie said. “I haven’t changed for a guy. In fact, thanks to new Sandy, I’m not sure I even have a guy anymore.”

  “I hope you’re right about that last part because he wasn’t worth having. The best thing I can say about Chris is that he isn’t a serial killer or a rapist, which is about as low as my bar goes.”

  Libbie let that sink in. Those were hard words to hear from her best friend, but she wasn’t surprised by how strongly Kate felt. “He’s definitely neither of those things.”

  Kate’s expression softened and she hugged her friend. “You know I’ll support you, no matter what, even if you want to work things out with him.”

  “I know, and that’s why I love you.”

  Kate pulled back. “What do you think your parents will say? They’re going to flip out.”

  “They’d have to care enough to flip out. They’ll probably just criticize me and move on to something wonderful about Emily or her kids. Or some woman at the club whose daughter’s friend is a hat model for QVC.” There was always someone more interesting than Libbie as far as her mother was concerned.

  Kate squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I’m happy for you, Libbie. You deserve all the good things. You know that.”

  Libbie knew that Kate was resisting her guru-speak, as Libbie sometimes called it. Sometimes it was difficult having a best friend whose entire career was built around being a self-help and motivational guru. Libbie wanted to feel like a friend, not a client, and mostly she did.

  “I know you’ve always said that, but I feel like I’m finally starting to believe it.” Libbie hesitated. “Have you noticed anything different about yourself?”

  Kate cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. You don’t feel...like a better version of yourself or anything?”

  Kate tipped her head back and laughed. “Hardly.”

  “I know, I know. Hard to improve on perfection.”

  Kate’s smile faded. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Hey, that reminds me. Did you notice anything in your journal?”

  Kate’s face was blank. “Journal?”

  “The book Inga left you. I thought mine was blank, but then I found a page with a cocktail recipe.”

  “Really? No, as a matter of fact, I looked through mine this morning. Ava wanted to see it. I told her she could, but only if she swore not to use it as a drawing pad.” Ava liked to draw like Courtney, but as Kate liked to say to Libbie, double the drawings with half the talent. To be fair, Ava was only six.

  “I made the drink last night,” Libbie said. “It was amazing. I’ll have to make one for you next time.”

  “That’s strange. I wonder why yours had a recipe.” Kate frowned. “The lawyer distributed them at random, so it isn’t like yours was designated for you.”

  “You’re right.” Libbie had forgotten that. “Maybe it was a book Inga had started but didn’t get to finish.”

  Her phone buzzed, and Libbie noticed a text from Chris.

  Libbie stared at the words on the screen. Her throat suddenly felt dry.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

  “Chris is at the house,” she said. “He says he’s getting most of his things, and he’ll be back for the rest another time.”

  He’d also called her stupid for quitting her job in the middle of summer, but she omitted that part, knowing it would send Kate off on a fiery tangent.

  Kate shook her head in disgust. “Unbelievable. All because he didn’t want to have an authentic conversation.”

  Libbie drank the rest of her iced tea, letting the text settle. “Maybe he’s worried about both of us being home at the same time all summer.”

  “It’s not like you’re going to lie around eating bonbons. You’re going to start your catering business.”

  Libbie was still stuck on the text. That he didn’t even have the decency to wait and talk to her in person. “I didn’t realize there were two cowards in the relationship.” She’d thought she was the only one.

  “How do you feel? Do you want to head home now and try to stop him from leaving?”

  Libbie leaned back in the chair and adjusted her sunglasses. “I think I’ll hang out here for a little while longer, if that’s okay with you.”

  Libbie arrived home an hour and a half later. There was no sign of Chris’s car in the driveway, but the mail truck was just leaving, so she stopped at the mailbox before she pulled into the driveway. Chris had been the one to bring in the mail and handle the bills. Libbie made a mental note to make a list of the bills and their due dates. There’d only been a short period of time between Nick and Chris where Libbie had handled everything. She didn’t look forward to taking over again. Although some bills arrived electronically and were paid automatically, a few of the main ones sent paper copies, and then Chris paid them online directly from the bank account.

  “Lucky me. And here’s one now,” Libbie said, as she glanced at the envelope from her mortgage company. It seemed different from the normal statement and payment coupon, and she assumed it was one of those offers to switch to a new type of loan that she routinely ignored.

  She carried the small stack of envelopes into the house and set them on the kitchen counter. Hercules bolted into the room to greet her, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He always seemed so happy. She wondered what he thought about, especially when no one was home. She’d seen videos of pets sitting in the same spot in the evening as when their owners left in the morning, and they tore at her heart. At least Hercules seemed to enjoy himself no matter what.

  She opened the back door to let him out and then remembered to call for the cat. Eliza would take some getting used to. The cat appeared as if out of nowhere, twisting around her legs, her soft tail tickling Libbie’s exposed skin. She made sure the cat’s bowls were full and then went upstairs to see whether Chris had, in fact, moved out. Dresser drawers had been left half open, and a quick peek in the closet revealed that he had. Libbie took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. He was well and truly gone. Their relationship had been hanging by a thread so fine that she hadn’t even registered its existence.

  She returned to the kitchen with Eliza beside her. The cat jumped onto the counter and scattered the pieces of mail. Libbie pulled them into a pile and opened the one from the mortgage company first. The sooner she looked at the marketing material, the sooner she could toss it into the recycling bin. As Libbie scanned the contents, her fingers tightened on the edges of the letter.

  It wasn’t marketing material.

  Ice traveled down her spine and shot through her veins as she read the letter a second time. Three months in arrears? How was this possible? As far as she knew, the mortgage was getting paid each month, just like all the other bills. If it wasn’t, there’d be a lot more money sitting in the account right now. Unless...

  She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone, her hand trembling as she scrolled to his name and tapped the screen. Voicemail. Libbie drew a steadying breath and waited for the beep.

  “I’m sorry, but the voicemail box you’re trying to reach is full.”

  Libbie nearly screamed into the phone, not that it would’ve done any good. Her hea
rt pounded as she shot off a text to Chris and asked him to call her as soon as possible. If he suspected that she knew what he’d done, she had a feeling he’d be in hiding for as long as possible.

  Slowly, she lowered herself onto a chair. Now that the idea had taken shape, there was no doubt in her mind about what happened. Chris had been taking the money intended for the mortgage and using it for his own purposes. How could he do such a thing? Didn’t he realize it would eventually come to light, and then what?

  Libbie knew what. He’d twist the facts and make it seem like Libbie’s fault, and she would’ve acquiesced. Anything to keep the peace. To not push the limits of what their relationship could handle.

  Anything to please him so that he’d love her enough to stay.

  The irony, of course, was that he was already gone, and Libbie wasn’t the least bit sorry. She hadn’t even pushed the limits. She’d simply opened the channels of communication, and that had been enough to send him packing.

  No, wait. It was only after she told him that she’d quit her job that he’d announced he was moving out. Now that she’d no longer be a source of revenue, he was gone.

  Libbie checked the savings account and discovered there was barely any money left in there, too. Enough to keep the bank from closing it, which would have alerted her to his misdeeds. She felt like an idiot for trusting him. For falling into the trap of letting a man handle things for her that she could’ve done for herself. This was her house. It had been her bank account. Why had she let him control things that already belonged to her?

  Because she loved him, of course. Or at least she thought she did. She felt very confused right now.

  Her gaze drifted to Inga’s book still on the counter. She thought of the special cocktail and the jar and the strange tingling sensation. What if this was some kind of test that she had to pass before she could claim her share of Inga’s assets? What if she’d been cursed? She’d felt so good this morning, like a whole new Libbie. No, a better version of Libbie.

  Now she felt like her world was about to collapse on top of her.

  She barely had enough money to make it through the month. How would she explain this to her kids? Her hands shook as she glanced again at her phone. Yesterday, she’d believed Chris’s worst vice was his inconsideration. Now she knew he was also a liar and a thief. The knowledge didn’t make her feel any better.

  Libbie fingers traced the outline of the phone as she tried to remember the name of the witch the lawyer had mentioned during their meeting. Luna? No, that was a Harry Potter character her daughter liked. Loretta? Even her memory was cursed these days, although she blamed perimenopause for that. She texted Kate and asked for the name, knowing her friend would remember. Libbie was convinced that Kate was skipping menopause all together and going straight to goddess. Knowing Kate, she was feigning her ailments to fit in with the other women. The reply was immediate and, naturally, correct.

  Lorraine. Voice of the Moon Goddess.

  Libbie searched online for a phone number and address. Lorraine wasn’t far, only twenty minutes by car. The problem was that her friends would likely have questions, too, once they knew what had happened to Libbie. She decided to make it easy for everyone. Her conversation with Lorraine was brief and to the point. She clicked off the phone, satisfied with the arrangement. If her life was falling apart, then maybe a witch was exactly what she needed to put it back together. She wouldn’t need to wait long. Friday night was just around the corner. Inga might be gone, but it looked like there would be five women present at cocktail club after all.

  With the help of her daughter’s graphic design skills, Libbie wasted no time creating attractive menu options and a logo for her catering business. She was pleased when Nick agreed to help spread the word at Cone Hut. She didn’t expect her ex-husband to use his business to help hers.

  “The kids told me about Chris,” Nick said. He’d stopped by to drop off flea and tick pills for Hercules that he’d picked up from the vet’s office. He was as good about shared custody of Hercules as he was about the kids.

  “These things happen,” Libbie said vaguely. She didn’t want him to know the appalling details. She was too embarrassed. She tucked the box of pills in the medicine cabinet in the kitchen.

  “It’s because you jumped,” he said.

  She turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “From me to him. You jumped.”

  Libbie frowned. “I didn’t jump. We’d been divorced for a year when I started dating Chris.”

  “But you didn’t even pause to think about whether or not he was good enough for you. You just went along with it.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “When did you become privy to my deepest thoughts?”

  “Don’t be mad. It’s a compliment, really.”

  “Telling me how bad I am at relationships is a compliment?”

  “I’m not trying to be unkind. I just thought I could say what I think now that he’s not in the picture. I never wanted to say it before because you’d think I was only being bitter or spiteful.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that, Nick.” Her ex was a lot of things, but bitter and spiteful weren’t among them.

  “Just for the record, the kids are glad too. They didn’t hate him or anything, but they didn’t like him much.”

  Guilt gnawed at Libbie’s insides. She’d tried to create a safe space at home where her kids would feel comfortable telling her whatever was on their minds. “I’m glad they talked to you about it.”

  “They’re good kids, Lib. We’re doing well for a couple of clueless people.”

  She laughed, remembering their early struggles as parents. “I guess not everything is falling apart.” Her smile evaporated as a question occurred to her. “Why would you say that I jumped when you’re the one who got married and had another baby?”

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh, I jumped, too, but I got lucky. My wife isn’t an asshole. It could easily have gone the other way.”

  Libbie laughed softly. “Why didn’t we talk like this when we were married?”

  “Because we were both too afraid of upsetting the apple cart. It’s an accomplishment that we managed to get divorced, to be honest. We could’ve easily stayed married another fifty years, secretly miserable but telling everyone we were fine.”

  “Thank you for divorcing me,” Libbie said, smiling.

  He bowed. “And thank you for divorcing me. One decision that we both got right. Let me know if you need help with anything now that Chris is gone. I’m happy to help however I can. Anything to make it easier on the kids.”

  For a fleeting moment, Libbie considered asking for a small loan, but she quashed the thought as quickly as it had bubbled to the surface. This was her mistake and she’d figure out the solution on her own. Besides, Nick had a wife and a third child and he already paid for half the expenses related to their two kids. Libbie would manage. She had to. And she knew exactly what she needed to do next.

  Libbie entered the sterile office of the mortgage company and the familiar tendrils of anxiety began to uncurl in her stomach. Worries and what-ifs circled inside her head like a whirlpool, and she struggled to remain focused on the meeting ahead.

  She checked in with the receptionist and was advised to take a seat. She’d worn a suit for the occasion and silently cursed Chris for making her don long sleeves and layers in the middle of summer. The longer she waited, however, the more she felt her anxiety ebb away. She was surprised by her own reaction. This was the type of situation where she should be close to tears by now. Instead, she was calm, and her head was beginning to clear. By the time the loan officer appeared, Libbie felt completely in control again. Whatever needed to be done, she would do it.

  “Elizabeth Stark?” he asked.

  She rose to her feet and offered a confident smile. “Yes. That’s me.”

  “Larry Jefferson. Nice to meet you.”

  They shook hands, and she followed him back t
o his office. There would be no waterworks. Libbie would simply explain the situation and ask how to proceed. Maybe she wouldn’t need Lorraine’s magical assistance. Maybe she’d be able to take care of this the old-fashioned way. Still, if there was going to be any further unraveling of the careful threads of her life, Libbie wanted to know so that she could put a stop to it. She wasn’t certain how much more she could take.

  Once they were ensconced in his office, he tapped the computer mouse. “Three months, Ms. Stark.”

  “Yes, I know.” Now. “I’m not here to offer excuses. I just want to know what I can do.”

  “Aside from pay what you owe right now?” he asked, not unkindly.

  “Unfortunately, that’s not an option.” She gripped the handle of the bag resting on her lap and noticed that her palm wasn’t sweaty. Baby steps.

  “You’ve been a customer in good standing for years, until recently, of course. We’re willing to work with you to help you get through whatever hardship you’re facing.”

  “Seriously?” Libbie hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

  “Within reason,” he added. “There are a few options. We can set up a repayment plan, or there’s forbearance, or we can modify the terms of your existing loan.” He went on to explain each option in greater detail.

  Libbie digested the information. “And what happens if I don’t come up with the money?” She hated to even ask the question.

  “I think you probably know, Ms. Stark. We’d have to foreclose on your house.”

  His answer jarred Libbie. As much as she wanted to blame Chris, she knew she was also to blame for putting her trust in the wrong person.

  Never again.

  “The thing is, I quit my job. I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known what was going on, of course.” But she didn’t, and she refused to beat herself up over it now. What Chris had done with the money was anybody’s guess.

  “You didn’t know you weren’t paying your mortgage?”