“Oh, hey, Mrs. Stark.” Ashley flashed a bright smile. “I didn’t realize it was you. I kind of zone out when I’m waiting tables.”
“Daydreaming, huh?” Libbie was familiar with that. She’d done it often enough at Basecamp, conjuring up new recipes that Joe refused to let her try. Well, her daydreaming days were over. She was free to experiment now, and she had no intention of letting herself down.
Ashley shrugged. “Counting the hours until I can get out on the lake. I hate working and missing out on the fun.”
Spoken like a true teenager. “If it’s any consolation, Josh is working too.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean to sound spoiled or anything.”
“No worries, Ashley. Trust me, the grown-ups who are working wish they were out on the lake too. Nobody wants to toil away on a beautiful day like this.”
Her head bobbed back and forth. “You’re right. It is a beautiful day.”
“Sunset isn’t until about eight-thirty. Plenty of time to enjoy it.”
Ashley beamed. “Thanks, Mrs. Stark.” She turned back toward the bar with a spring in her step.
“She has no idea what she’s in for,” Ethan said. “Endless work hours. Bills. Taxes. Insurance.” He groaned. “Adulthood isn’t for the weak.”
“It can be overwhelming at times.” Libbie bit down on a crab leg, thinking. “But then I think of Inga and remember that you can be a responsible adult and still experience genuine joy and excitement. It doesn’t have to be all drudgery all the time.”
Ethan clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell me more about the assets Inga left you. What have you learned? I completely understand if you don’t want to talk about it because it’s none of my business, but I’ll be honest, I’m dying to know.”
“It would be a relief to have someone else to talk to about it,” Libbie admitted.
“Cheers, by the way.” He touched his pint glass against hers.
She smiled. “Cheers.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “I have to say, whatever it is, you look radiant.”
Libbie pressed the glass to her forehead in an attempt to cool the hot flash that was about to sweep over her. The heat had a way of triggering more heat—or maybe it wasn’t the sun this time. Maybe it was another kind of heat all together.
“The last time anyone called me radiant, I was pregnant with Courtney.” And her relentless perimenopause symptoms never let her forget that those days were basically behind her.
“Sorry, I don’t know how else to put it. I mean, I thought you were beautiful when you walked into my office, but this is next level.”
Libbie grew flustered. He thought she was beautiful? No one had ever referred to her as beautiful before. Not Nick or Chris, and certainly no one in her family. Emily was the beauty in their family, the one who took after their mother. Libbie was just...Libbie.
Ethan cringed as he noticed her reaction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”
“No, you didn’t. Honestly. It’s just not an adjective I’m used to hearing.” Ugh, why did she say that? She didn’t want him to think she was fishing for more compliments.
His brow creased. “I probably shouldn’t have said it anyway, especially if you’re going to be a client. It’s inappropriate.”
“I’m not your client yet,” Libbie said.
He perked up. “Good point. Maybe we should wait until the very end to talk about my party and any legal issues you’d like to discuss.”
“That’s fine with me. I can talk about the book.” Libbie proceeded to tell him about the two cocktail recipes that had magically appeared and the events that had followed her consumption of the first one.
“Wow. That’s quite a drink,” he said.
“I know. Now I’m scrambling to make this mess I’ve created the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“That’s a great way of framing it.” He nodded, smiling. “I like that a lot.”
“Thanks, I can’t take credit for it, though.”
“Inga?”
She nodded.
“And you really think this magical cocktail you drank prompted you to make these major life changes? Not that I don’t believe you, given everything I know, but it’s a cocktail. It’s already liquid courage.”
“I don’t know how to explain it.” Libbie rubbed her arms, as though the movement would stimulate the right words. “I felt a spark.”
“I know the feeling.” Ethan’s eyes glinted in the sunlight.
“Something happened when we opened the jar, and then things really took off when I drank the cocktail. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
Ethan swilled his beer. “How about your friends? Have they been having the same experience?”
“No, it’s strange. I seem to be the only one with pages appearing in my book. Theirs are still blank.”
“Maybe it goes in alphabetical order by first name.” He laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, that was a terrible attempt at a joke. To be honest, I don’t know how to make sense of this.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Listen, there’s no rush to hire me. As far as I can tell, you don’t need to register right away. In fact, it might be best to wait until you have a better understanding of the magic you’ve inherited. Wait and see what happens with your friends.”
Libbie rested her palm against her cheek. “I wish I knew more about Inga’s magic so I understood mine.”
“That’s not how it works. It’s not a direct transfer of like to like. That’s why I was curious how the assets manifested.”
“No, you’re right. That’s what Lorraine said, too.” She glanced at the water where two Jet Skis zipped past. For the first time in years, Libbie had a strong desire to ditch the kayak and hop on a Jet Ski. She’d always been too afraid to ride them, although she loved the feeling of the wind in her hair and bouncing over the surface of the water.
“We should probably talk about my party,” Ethan said. “I like to do a ‘thank you’ party every summer for my core clients. Very casual. Usually, I have it at a restaurant, but I was thinking this year I’d like to host it at my house.”
“That’s a lovely idea. When would you like to host it?”
“I’m flexible on the evening, as long as there’s enough notice. For you and for them.”
From Libbie’s point of view, sooner was better than later. She had Serena’s party this week, so she could certainly fit Ethan into the schedule soon afterward. “How about next Wednesday?” Nick already had the kids then, so she wouldn’t need to juggle the schedule.
“I can work with that.”
“How many guests, do you think?”
“Forty to fifty. I like to include the families, although most of them prefer to come without their kids. Does that sound manageable?”
“Absolutely,” Libbie replied. This event would be ideal for Mrs. Quincy’s requirements. Now if she could only secure one more. The clock was ticking.
“I’m open to any ideas you want to throw my way.”
“I’ll need to do a site visit so I can see your kitchen and the layout of your entertaining space. And the budget, of course.”
“Let’s set it up.”
A tiny thrill shot through Libbie at the thought of spending time alone with Ethan in his home. She knew she should be more excited about the job—and she was—but she hadn’t felt this way about a man in a long time. If she were being honest with herself, probably ever.
They arranged to meet at his house on Wednesday at seven. She and her friends weren’t gathering until nine to scatter Inga’s ashes because they’d agreed to do it under the moon and stars, just as Inga would’ve wanted.
Libbie was having such a good time that she was sorry to leave, but she knew she had to get moving. Hercules would need to go out and the kids would be home from work shortly. “This was nice. Thanks for inviting me.”
> He smiled at her in a way that made her body burst into flames. “We should probably meet again soon since we didn’t really get to talk about the menu for my party.”
“Yes, we definitely should.”
Chapter Twelve
“Mom? What are you doing?”
Libbie rested on her knees in the backyard. It was Tuesday morning. After spending too much time indoors on Monday, preparing for Serena’s party—including returning to the Kitts’ house to finalize the menu and have Serena drink the finished cocktail—she’d decided to take advantage of another gorgeous day. Libbie was curious to see what effect the cocktail might have on Serena and was relieved when the woman decided to stick with her bartender’s suggestions. Technically, Libbie could supply a bartender as labor and handle mixers and garnishes, but she couldn’t provide the alcohol.
“I’m planting,” she said. “Feel like digging in the dirt? I could use some help.”
“Sure.” Josh knelt beside her, and Libbie felt a wave of gratitude wash over her that she was blessed with a teenaged son as agreeable as Josh.
“This garden is a mess.”
“Probably because you haven’t been out here in ages,” Josh said. “I remember when you used to spend hours out here. I’d have my Matchbox cars on the patio and would launch them into the garden when you were trying to work.”
She laughed at the memory. “Probably one of the worst things you’ve ever done.” She’d been an avid gardener at one point, but had lost interest somewhere along the way.
“What are these?” he asked, observing the trays of greenery.
Libbie waved a hand in their direction. “A variety. Some I ordered online, and some I bought locally.”
“You’re ordering plants online? Why not get them all at Bright Meadow?”
“Because Bright Meadow doesn’t sell everything I want for this garden.”
She wasn’t sure how much to share with him, especially when she didn’t fully understand herself. I’m growing special herbs to make magic would make her sound like a drug dealer. It wasn’t all for the cocktail recipes, of course. She wanted certain herbs on hand for cooking.
He gestured toward a green cluster. “This one just looks like a weed. Don’t you want something that looks nicer?”
“That’s called Artemisia dracunculus. It also goes by dragon herb or tarragon. I’m planting it to protect the other plants in the garden.”
“How will it do that?” Josh asked.
“It has a taste and smell that garden pests don’t like, so it’s a good companion plant.” She wiped the beads of sweat from her brow. “That reminds me, do you know Caeden Kitts?”
“Yeah, he’s a year below me at school.”
“Nice kid?”
Josh shrugged. “He’s okay.”
Libbie looked at him. “Define ‘okay.’” She sensed her son was being polite.
Josh picked up a spade and began to dig. “We don’t have any friends in common.”
“Who are his people? The druggies?”
Josh grunted. “Remember that kid who hid the pot in the ceiling of the boys’ bathroom in a bag with his name on it?” He shook his head and laughed. “What a moron.”
“That was him?” Libbie asked, aghast.
“No, but that was Caeden’s best friend.”
“He got suspended, though, didn’t he?” Libbie tried to recall the details. She had to admit that if it wasn’t her kid in trouble, she only half listened to the story.
“Yeah, so Caeden’s been kind of drifting to find another crew.”
Libbie nodded. It seemed like Serena Kitts’ instincts were spot on. She hoped the cocktail was able to help get communication flowing between mother and son.
“You know, I’m really glad that you feel like you can talk to me.”
Josh rested on his haunches, seemingly embarrassed. “You’re my mom.”
“I know, but you’re a sixteen-year-old boy. I thought your species was supposed to be mortified by mothers.”
He shrugged his lanky shoulders. “You haven’t done anything to mortify me.”
Libbie winked. “There’s still plenty of time.”
He shifted back to his knees and resumed digging. “You don’t give me a hard time.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m too lax. Maybe I should be tougher.” If she’d been tougher, maybe she’d have dumped Chris sooner and saved them all precious time.
“It’s not like I do things you don’t want me to do.” He selected a plant from the tray and settled it into the hole. “And you always listen to me, like what I have to say is important.”
Libbie’s chest tightened as she realized Josh’s experience was the exact opposite of her own childhood. That was probably why she made such an effort with her own kids—because of how she’d felt growing up, like she didn’t matter.
“What you have to say is important.”
Again, Libbie thought of her own experience. If your own mother doesn’t think what you have to say is important, then it would be hard to convince yourself that anyone else would.
Josh smirked. “Even when I want to show you one of those memes you don’t understand?”
“Even then.” A short shadow passed over them, and Libbie craned her neck for a glimpse of her daughter. “Grab a spade and you can help.”
Courtney glanced around the ground, and Libbie knew her fastidious child was searching for a blanket or cushion to use as a seat. Even as a toddler, she hadn’t been one to play in the dirt.
“Remember when you made me that little garden to grow my own Sundrop Flower?” Courtney asked.
Libbie groaned. “How can I forget?”
Josh shot her a quizzical look. “Is that the one from Rapunzel?”
“Tangled, and yes,” Libbie said.
Courtney had been obsessed with the movie when she was younger, and Libbie had spent countless hours doing all sorts of Rapunzel-inspired activities. One of those activities had involved a yellow flower that Libbie had bought from the local nursery and pretended it was the Sundrop Flower that had magical properties. She and Courtney had planted it together, and Libbie could still vividly recall the look of wonder in her daughter’s eyes. Never mind the flower. The moment itself had been magical.
“Do you want to do anything special today since neither of you has to work?” Libbie asked.
“Can we kayak?” Courtney asked.
Her request triggered an idea. Libbie smiled. “I have a better idea. How about we rent Jet Skis?”
Josh perked up. “Really? But you hate them. Last time I asked, you called them aquatic death machines.”
“I might have been overreacting. If you two help me plant these now, we’ll have plenty of time to get on the water today.”
Courtney dropped on the ground beside her mother. “Deal.”
With the kids’ help, Libbie was able to get the garden cleaned up and her new arrivals planted, leaving them the entire afternoon to spend on the lake. They rented two Jet Skis so that Josh could ride his own, and she and Courtney shared. She was glad to get Courtney on one this young, so that she didn’t develop the same fears Libbie had. It was a great day on the lake, and Libbie was grateful for this uninterrupted time with her kids. If she hadn’t quit her job, she’d be working at Basecamp now and coming home tired and miserable. Instead, she was coming home exhilarated, two happy kids in tow. There was no comparison. Of course, there was still the issue of her financial future, but Libbie was feeling more optimistic with each passing day.
They arrived home and immediately let Hercules out. The kids dashed straight upstairs—to check their phones, no doubt— and Eliza came running, her tail flicking from side to side. Now that she was no longer confined to Courtney’s room, Eliza seemed more comfortable in the house. A quick glance at the empty bowl indicated that the cat was hungry.
“Don’t worry. I have no interest in starving you. I’m a chef. Haven’t you heard? Food is kind of my specialty.”
&nb
sp; Hercules’ loud bark let her know that she had company. She hoped it wasn’t Chris. She was worn out from the sun and didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now.
There was a knock on the screen door and Libbie heard a woman’s voice. “Libbie, are you home?”
She dumped the cat food into the bowl and set the tin on the counter before making her way to the front door. “Hildie?” Libbie had known Hildie Parsons since elementary school. They’d lost touch when Libbie had gone away to college but fell back in contact after Libbie gave birth to Courtney. Hildie’s son and Courtney were the same age and, she and Libbie couldn’t seem to show up at a Mom and Me-type event without running into one another.
“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Hildie said. “I was driving past and saw your car. Figured I’d see how you’re getting on.” Her sympathetic expression suggested that she knew about both Basecamp and Chris.
Libbie opened the door to let her in. “I’m doing well, thanks.”
Hildie’s gaze flicked over her from top to bottom. “You must mean it. You look good.”
Libbie laughed. “Thanks. Can I get you a drink? It’s hot out there today.” She walked back to the kitchen with Hildie right behind her. Eliza bolted forward to greet their guest.
“When did you get a cat?” Hildie asked. She bent over to stroke Eliza’s back.
“She was part of an inheritance,” Libbie said.
Hildie straightened. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“Inga Paulsen. Did you know her?”
Hildie’s eyes rounded. “I didn’t realize you were friends with her.”
Libbie nodded. “We met every week for cocktail club. Iced tea?”
“Sure.” Hildie threaded her fingers on the counter. “She was an odd duck from what I’d heard. All sorts of eccentricities.”
Libbie retrieved the pitcher from the fridge and two glasses. “If I’m lucky enough to live that long, I hope everyone says the same about me.” She filled a glass for Hildie and passed it over to her.
“We’ve seen Courtney at Cone Hut and Josh at the lake. I guess they’re keeping busy this summer.”
“They are. What about your kids? Are they working?”
Magic Uncorked: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Midlife Magic Cocktail Club Book 1) Page 12