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

by Annabel Chase

  Hildie gulped down a quarter of her iced tea. Libbie didn’t blame her. It was scorching outside.

  “Bradley is helping out his grandfather at the hardware store, and Maya is working at the desk at the tennis club.” Her gaze settled on Libbie. “How about you? Anything on the job front?”

  Libbie smiled. “Actually, I’ve started my own business. I’m catering now.” She inclined her head toward the information on the counter.

  Hildie grasped the packet with eager fingers. “That’s fantastic. I’m so excited for you.”

  “Thanks, so am I.”

  Hildie waved a dismissive hand. “You were too good for Basecamp anyway. That place was nothing more than a glorified diner, and Joe is as stubborn as a mule.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Hildie flicked through the pages. “I would eat every single thing you have listed.”

  “That seems to be the consensus so far.”

  She set her hands on the counter and looked Libbie in the eye. “I can’t say I’m sorry about Chris. I never said anything because it wasn’t my place, but even the kids at school don’t like him. Maya says he has a bad attitude, and you know it must be bad when teenagers say that.” Hildie smirked. “Maya says girls are lined up trying to catch Josh’s attention at the club.”

  “Is that so? He hasn’t mentioned it.” Maya was a year younger than Josh.

  “He wouldn’t. Too nice of a boy.” Hildie winced and put a protective hand close to her armpit.

  “Hildie, are you okay?”

  Her grimace morphed into a smile. “Fine. Just a shooting pain. I have a bit of swelling, but I’m sure I just banged into a doorjamb or something and don’t remember. Middle age will do that to a woman. I’m clumsy and forgetful all the sudden, like I had a partial lobotomy.”

  Libbie grew alert, remembering that Hildie’s mother died from breast cancer in her forties. “Hildie,” she said carefully.

  “You can stop right there. I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you have the gene?” Libbie asked quietly.

  Hildie averted her gaze. “I don’t know. I haven’t been tested.”

  “Well, I’m sure you get annual mammograms. That’s the important thing.” The guilty expression on Hildie’s face suggested that Libbie was wrong about that. “Wait. You don’t get mammograms?”

  Hildie’s face grew pinched. “My schedule’s busy, and you have to make the appointment with so much advanced notice. I never know what kind of time I’ll have available months ahead.”

  “But you’re having pain and swelling, Hildie. It could be an early symptom.”

  Hildie’s eyes moistened. “I can’t.”

  Libbie edged closer to her. “Hildie, you have a family history.”

  The other woman jerked toward her. “Why do you think I don’t want to go? I’m terrified. I have two kids under eighteen. What if I have it?”

  “Not getting diagnosed won’t make it go away.” Libbie placed a gentle hand on her back. “Hildie, you know bossy isn’t my style.”

  “No, that’s Kate.”

  Libbie allowed herself a small smile. “Exactly, but I’m telling you this. You need to go.”

  Hildie began to tremble. “I can’t. I don’t want to know.”

  Libbie’s gaze fell on the cocktail book, now open on the counter. Odd. She didn’t remember opening it. Her brow lifted when she realized there was a new entry. “I think I have something that might help you.”

  Hildie wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Pot?”

  “No.” Libbie peered at the new recipe. “You like gin, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Gin is my favorite. I drink gin and tonic all summer long.”

  Libbie smiled. “How would you feel about a cocktail?”

  Hildie shrugged. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

  Libbie went to the cabinet and began pulling out ingredients. “We’ll sit outside, have a drink together, and talk this through.”

  “Thank you, Libbie. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Please don’t be.”

  “How am I going to raise two kids brave enough to face their problems when their mother is too chicken to lead by example?” Hildie shook her head. “I remember when my mom was sick. All the whispers and sad faces. It was an awful time. I remember feeling ashamed, and I didn’t even know why.”

  Libbie listened as she mixed the ingredients of the cocktail. The only item left was liverwort. “I’ll be right back. I just need to pinch something from the garden.”

  “Oh, I don’t need any garnish. Don’t waste your plants on me.”

  “It’s more than a garnish, and nothing can be wasted on you, Hildie Parsons.” Libbie darted from the kitchen into the backyard to snip the liverwort from the garden. Liverwort, also known as hepatica, was a pretty purple flower in the buttercup family that was plentiful throughout the woods in Lake Cloverleaf. She finished mixing the cocktail and handed the finished product to her friend.

  “Wow, Libbie. This looks straight out of a magazine.” Hildie admired the drink, turning the glass from side to side. “You have so many talents. I can hardly keep up with them all.”

  “Cheers.” Libbie lifted her glass of iced tea.

  “Cheers.” Hildie raised her glass before bringing it to her lips for a sip. She perked up as the cocktail appeared to hit her taste buds. “This is like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  Hildie took a longer drink this time, seeming to savor the pale purple liquid. “Oh, it’s definitely a good thing.” She sniffed the inside of the glass. “It even smells amazing. How do you do it?”

  Libbie smiled. “Magic.”

  “No kidding. I wish you’d been making these back when your kids were little. I needed a stiff drink on the regular back then.” She smacked her lips together. “Thank goodness we got the good eggs.”

  “Your kids aren’t raising themselves, Hildie. They’re good eggs because you’re a good mom.”

  “Is that true though?” Hildie swallowed more of her drink. “I know good parents with bad apples. I often wonder how that happens.”

  “Don’t discount your influence,” Libbie said. “You’re doing a lot of things right.”

  Hildie raised her glass. “Right back at you, Mom.”

  As if on cue, Josh and Courtney came thundering down the steps together. From the sound of it, they were debating music.

  “Nirvana just sounds like someone yelling in pain,” Courtney insisted. “It isn’t music.” She stopped short when she reached the kitchen. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Mrs. Parsons.”

  “Hi,” Josh said.

  “You two get taller every time I see you,” Hildie said. “Or maybe I’m getting shorter. I swear, I’m shrinking. Another perk of middle age.”

  “You should try yoga,” Courtney said. “It keeps your spine long. That’s what the lady on YouTube tells me.”

  Hildie looked impressed. “You’re doing yoga?”

  “It was recommended,” Libbie said.

  “For my anxiety,” Courtney added without a trace of embarrassment. She could learn a few things from her daughter, Libbie realized.

  “That’s a terrific idea,” Hildie said. “You know what? I think I’ll take a look at yoga. I’m in need of some calming methods.” Her gaze flickered to Libbie, and Libbie knew she was thinking about her fleeting pain.

  “What are you drinking?” Courtney asked, eyeing the cocktail. “It looks so pretty.”

  “Nothing for you. Not for another seven years anyway.” Libbie tousled Josh’s hair. “You are in definite need of a shower.”

  Courtney held up her hands. “I still feel sticky from the lake. It doesn’t matter how many times I wash my hands.”

  “Why don’t you two get showers?” Libbie suggested. “You’re old enough to do that without being told.”

  “What’s in it for me?” Courtney asked.

  Hildie laughed. “A shrewd negotiat
or. I like it.”

  “You like to be clean and you hate seaweed in your hair. That’s what’s in it for you,” Libbie said.

  They took off for the staircase, and Hercules bounded after them.

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but your house feels lighter,” Hildie said, once they were out of earshot.

  She knew Hildie meant the absence of Chris. “I think so, too,” she agreed.

  “And everything’s good with Nick?”

  “As good as things can possibly be with your ex.”

  Hildie finished the remainder of her cocktail and even sucked down the ice cubes. “Thanks for this, Libbie. It was a feast for the senses.”

  “Wow, I’m putting that on my marketing material.”

  Hildie laughed. “I wish I needed a caterer. You’d be top of the list.”

  “If you hear of anyone, will you pass along my information? I could use the recommendations.”

  “Absolutely.” Hildie placed her empty glass in the sink. “Thank you for your hospitality. Hope to see you again before summer’s over.”

  Libbie escorted her friend to the door. “Let me know what happens, okay?”

  Hildie answered with a vague smile, and Libbie hoped that meant she would at least call for an appointment. One funeral this summer was quite enough.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Hildie said.

  Libbie leaned against the doorframe with a heavy heart and watched her friend drive away. She knew the situation could easily be reversed. No one in the world was guaranteed good health or even happiness for that matter.

  You have to appreciate what you have when you have it, Libbie thought and quickly realized it was something she’d heard Inga say. It hadn’t really registered until now. It seemed to Libbie that her old friend had planted and watered a lot of seeds these past few years. It saddened Libbie to know she was no longer here to watch them grow.

  Libbie returned to the kitchen and took a closer look at the recipe that had appeared for Hildie. She was lucky to have had the herb she needed in her garden. It occurred to her that she needed to do more than simply plant new herbs in the garden. She needed to understand them as a...well, as a witch. She searched on her phone for ‘magical herbs.’ She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but she was pleasantly surprised to discover a variety of books on the subject. She ordered two of them with her Prime subscription. Inga’s book was assisting her in mysterious ways, but there was no reason why Libbie couldn’t do homework on her own to better understand the ingredients. There was no guarantee the book would produce a recipe for everyone. What if Libbie decided she needed a cocktail to help a friend and the book didn’t come through? She wanted to make sure she had the knowledge and supplies for an assortment of possibilities.

  Libbie sat at the table with her iced tea, and Eliza jumped up on the chair next to her. “You know what?” she said to the cat. “I don’t even know how the cocktail was meant to help Hildie.”

  It wasn’t as though the recipe would cure cancer. If it was capable of that, then there’d be no need for radiation and mastectomies. She searched online for the herb she’d used in Hildie’s cocktail, and the intended effect quickly became clear.

  Hepatica is well-known in magical circles to inspire confidence and trust.

  Libbie nodded thoughtfully. That seemed exactly what Hildie needed—to have enough confidence and trust to overcome her fear.

  She bonked Eliza on the nose, and the cat meowed in response. “We’re going to educate ourselves, Eliza. If I’m to be a witch, then I intend to be the best witch I can possibly be.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Wednesday rolled around, Libbie felt a little of her old anxiety sliding back into focus. She was going to be alone with Ethan at his house this evening. At least there was another demand on her time, so she wasn’t in danger of overstaying her welcome. She was meeting her friends at nine to scatter Inga’s ashes, and there was no way she’d ask them to reschedule a second time.

  She spent most of the day prepping for the Kitts’ party and making sure she ticked every item off her list that she possibly could.

  Somewhere in the house, Hercules barked. Libbie heard the sound of the front door open, and her breathing hitched when Chris swaggered into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Picking up my stuff.”

  “You should’ve called first.”

  He shrugged. “Thought you might hang up on me or say no.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t leave everything outside to rot.”

  His brow lifted. “That’s a little aggressive for you, Lib.” He noticed a bottle of brandy on the counter and came over to investigate. “Day drinking? That’s not really your style. I guess you’re taking this breakup harder than you’ve been pretending.”

  “It’s for a recipe,” she said.

  “You’re a bartender now? I thought you were a caterer.”

  Libbie’s gaze darted to Inga’s book that was open on the counter.

  “What’s this?” He reached for the book, and Libbie snatched it away.

  “None of your business.”

  He laughed. “Is this the nice suburban lady’s version of a meth lab?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She clutched the book to her chest. “Can you please get your things and go? I have a lot to do.”

  Chris grunted. “Yeah, I heard all about your fancy catering business. It was stupid of you to quit your job.”

  Libbie looked him dead in the face. “It seems I’ve done a number of stupid things in the past three years.”

  Chris laughed. “Well, you can add catering business to the list. How long do you think this will last? I bet you don’t make it through the summer before you’re begging one of the restaurants to hire you.”

  Libbie felt her blood begin to simmer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you really think you can run a business by yourself? It was one thing to have Joe as your boss. You’re not really the type to put yourself out there.”

  “Do you seriously think I’m less capable than he is?”

  Chris shrugged. “I guess time will tell. Where’s my stuff?”

  “In the boxes in the hallway upstairs.”

  “Sweet of you to pack for me.”

  “The faster you leave.”

  He strode past her and went upstairs, returning a minute later with the first two boxes. “You should be hurling dishes at me right now. Why are you so calm?” His face lit up. “Oh, I get it. I bet you’ve got a bottle of Xanax hidden somewhere in here, don’t you?”

  “I don’t need Xanax, Chris. I only needed clarity.”

  “And you got that, did you?”

  Libbie met his gaze with confidence. “Yes.”

  His brow creased. “Aren’t you even going to ask me why?”

  She shifted her attention back to the recipe, wishing he would just get his boxes and go. “It doesn’t matter why.”

  “I thought women were big on closure.”

  “I don’t need to rely on someone else to give me what I need.”

  He observed her for a long moment, as though he wanted to say more. It probably rattled him that she didn’t lose her temper or cry or demand answers. The truth was that she didn’t care what his reasons were. His behavior was about him, not about her. She could only control how she reacted to the situation.

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a sec for the rest.” He carried two boxes through the house to the car outside and returned a few minutes later for two more. He seemed to be deliberately dragging it out. Libbie knew what was in those boxes and none of them were particularly heavy, certainly not for someone as muscular as Chris.

  He threw open the door when he returned for more boxes and it slammed into the wall. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she refused to take the bait. She simply stood there and watched him with a blank expression.

  “I heard you went to s
ee a lawyer,” Chris said. “I guess he told you there’s no case against me.”

  “The lawyer has nothing to do with you.” Libbie focused on her ingredients. Serena’s party was far more important than scoring points in a fight.

  “I should’ve known. You never fight back. It’s so boring. I should’ve left you a long time ago.” When she failed to respond, he made a scoffing sound. “Whatever. Have fun being liberated.” He made air quotes for ‘liberated.’

  Libbie ignored him, unwilling to engage in an argument. It wasn’t worth the energy. He wasn’t worth the energy. Thank God she didn’t have children with him. He would’ve made a terrible father, and she would’ve grown to resent him that much faster. At least Nick was a good dad and a decent ex-husband. Their relationship wasn’t perfect—never was—but it wasn’t a train wreck. Nick’s marriage to Olivia helped. Libbie suspected his wife played a major role in their continued civility.

  “Have a nice life, Elizabeth.” He struggled to open the door this time, and Libbie rushed over to help. The sooner he was gone, the better.

  “I got it.” His tone was testy. He resented her opening a door for him, but he’d been perfectly happy to let her do all the heavy lifting during their three years together. Ironic.

  “Good luck to you,” she said. Three years of her life and ‘good luck to you’ was all she wanted to say as he left. He might as well have been a complete stranger.

  He gave her one last resentful look before leaving the house. She didn’t watch him go. Instead, she returned to the kitchen to focus on what she could control. The menu.

  She heard the squeal of tires as he pulled out of the driveway faster than necessary. He had the maturity of a high school boy. It wouldn’t surprise her to learn that he’d keyed her car. He’d broken her trust and stolen thousands of dollars from her, yet he somehow acted as though he stood on higher ground.

  “What was I thinking?” she murmured.

  The truth was she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been a passenger in her life, watching the world whiz past as she went through the motions of what she was supposed to do. Well, there would be no more ‘supposed to.’ Libbie was ready to start living life on her own terms, no matter how much it terrified her.