It was a good thing I felt that way, as an inspection of the bracelet showed that the latch had fused shut, and there was no way to remove it without cutting off my hand. I was momentarily concerned about how to explain it to Vanessa, but in the end, I decided that I would explain what happened without mentioning that I was glad to have an excuse to never take it off.
Vanessa was alarmed, but Auntie Ann concluded that there was no magic beyond a basic protection spell, and the matter was settled. Until a week later, when I found Patagonia batting around a catnip-filled mouse with a small bag attached to its neck. A full day passed before I gave it my attention and realized I had not seen the toy before. Picking up the toy, I removed the small bag and peered inside to discover a platinum cat charm. After a few moments in my palm, it twitched and flicked to connect to the bracelet.
After that, every week or two I would find another charm in a unique location and with special meaning. One day I poured my bowl heaping high of sugary cereal when another bag fell out. This “prize inside the box” was actually a delicate doughnut with thick enamel frosting and even tiny sparkles: my favorite post-training snack.
Then one morning I woke up with a bag next to my pillow. That charm was a piece of bowtie pasta to represent my love of Italian food. That was when the phone calls started. The first few times, I refused to answer. I wanted to thank him for the bracelet, but I also needed to tell him to stop sending charms. But I didn’t want to have the conversation. Then he called at two a.m., when I was too groggy to do anything more than pick up the phone and answer on instinct.
The second his warm voice came over the line, it was already too late. The bracelet on my arm was both warm and cold, sending a tingling sensation from there to… everywhere. I rolled over in bed, in the darkness, and talked to him until dawn’s gentle light let me know it was morning. Perhaps he could sense my own privacy on certain matters, or maybe he had his own background to hide, but neither of us spoke of our jobs or families or even too many details about our pasts.
The conversation had flowed effortlessly though. I had talked about the qualities I valued, places I had visited, things I loved to do. He had shared the same, and we found we had so many things in common. And I had thanked him for the bracelet but insisted that he didn’t need to give me anything more. I had dragged my way through training on far too few hours of sleep that next day only to discover a new charm on the kitchen counter: a small phone.
The calls were sporadic, but I waited for them, the highlight of my days or, most often, nights. Not that it was a hard time. I was still training with Vanessa but no longer just with Auntie Ann. Now Vanessa and I also trained with Badger and Bear. Ever since I had introduced them, they had figured out a schedule to coordinate the training. This gave each of them more time to devote to their other businesses. We had also started a strict five p.m. end time with weekends off.
Despite the reduced training time, my growth had accelerated. I had made more progress in the six months than I had in the previous year. Even Vanessa, who had long ago concluded that she was as good as she would ever be, had shown considerable improvement. Perhaps it was the new trainers, or maybe her renewed interest, but she insisted it was because she was finally having fun.
And boy were we. Saturday was devoted to friends and fun. We had partied our way up and down the Avenue, hiked every waterfall, canyon, and mountain for hundreds of miles, and shopped in every store that sold anything bigger than a stick of gum. If we received an invitation, we answered yes. We had seen comedians with Natasha, gone dancing with Britney, and done yoga with Beth, who was doing much better after rehab.
Sundays were days of contemplation. I went on long walks alone with Patagonia, read books, and had even taken to visiting a stone church on the edge of town to think about the bigger issues. If Saturday was about activity, Sunday was a day of rest. My life finally felt whole and healthy.
And I would recount all the details of my adventures to Thomas in late-night phone calls. I wasn’t sure if he was a night owl or in a different time zone, but occasionally I would hear foreign languages spoken in the background, but none that I could recognize. And a few days afterward, I would find another organza bag with a charm inside. Each was so carefully and perfectly matching in details to my stories that they must have been handmade based on his excellent recall.
The bracelet was like a scrapbook to my summer: what I loved, what was important to me, and what I had done. It perfectly captured who I was as the spring turned to summer then summer to fall. The crisp wind was blowing outside, and the leaves on the trees had turned. Twenty delicate charms went all around my wrist and were a testament to Thomas’s feelings for me. And my growing feelings for him.
That was the scariest part. I had allowed him to slip into my life and heart, but I had let it be my own little secret, our calls in the dark. Vanessa knew a bit. It was hard to miss my growing charm bracelet, but she hadn’t said anything about it. She was probably worried that I would cut our days off. And I might have done just that.
Of course days off were temporarily on hold. With Vin and Tiffany’s wedding on Saturday—only five days away—we had been spending our days off helping Auntie Ann and Olivia prepare. Tiffany had originally wanted to have it on Halloween, but her family refused to miss their own parties, so instead it was scheduled for mid-October, just as the holiday season was ramping up.
Though I had wanted to skip the whole event and couldn’t, I was happy that my involvement had been limited to behind-the-scenes work, this party, and the actual wedding. Britney and Natasha had both been forced into the wedding party and had been texting us nonstop about Tiffany’s unbelievable behavior. She made every other bridezilla seem like Mary Poppins.
And I already knew she was twice as bad as anything I wanted to deal with. I had repeatedly heard her refer to the wedding as the event of the year. This party was the start of the wedding week, and while I had little to do except for stuffing gift bags and marking things off the delivery checklist, I was already exhausted. Mage society was very old fashioned, probably because so many of them were literally born in a different era, and politeness was valued probably a bit too highly.
I glanced at Colleen. “How long do we have to stay? I figured it would be over hours ago.”
Vanessa jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Not until the last fruit falls.”
Behind us was an ice sculpture of Tiffany at least twice as big as she was in real life. Or at least it had been that big, but since the party started, it had shrunk. In her icy outstretched arms had been an ice basket full of fruit. As the lattice basket melted, the grapes, bananas, and mangos had fallen onto the base of the design. All that remained in the basket were a few apples.
It had been hard to miss when we arrived. It had looked to be a perfect replica, even down to her chilly manner and icy personality, but as time progressed, her head had melted down to a honeydew–shaped lump, and her curvy features had turned to a blob. Now the sculpture looked more like a wicked witch from a fairytale, who was trying to temp a young maiden with apples.
There was a burst of static over the sound system, and a voice started speaking.
“Hello? Oh good. I’m on.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Tiffany’s mother stood behind the microphone and tapped her foot until the room was fully quiet.
I had taken an instant dislike to Mixie Homes, probably because she looked exactly like her daughter. She spoke in a childlike, breathy Southern voice that was a put-on. I knew because a waiter had bumped into her, and she had thoroughly chewed him out in a deeper, more aggressive voice with a New Jersey accent until she noticed people watching her.
She was built much like Tiffany, which meant a lot of breast, butt, makeup, and hair. Her face was pulled so tight that I wasn’t sure if she could fully close her eyes, and her lips swelled out so far that they probably affected her center of gravity. She had stood next to her husband, an ancient man with the head of a turtl
e, who was confined to a wheelchair.
I wasn’t sure if he even knew where he was. He had vacant eyes, and the one minute I had been up close with him, he had incessantly licked his lips and worked his dentures in his mouth with a clacking noise while his eyes stared off into the distance.
Mixie had spoken for both of them, insisting on how excited they were and how they never thought Tiffany would settle down. The old man, who I was never formally introduced to but whose name I later discovered was William Alexander Homes III, barely responded to anything that was said, even when Mixie playfully swatted him on the shoulder and said, “I hope Tiffany has as wonderful a honeymoon as I did. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
I wasn’t sure which was more revolting, her referring to her own sexual escapades or her casual reference to her daughter’s.
The room didn’t settle down as quickly as Mixie had hoped, and she shouted into the microphone. “Shut! Up!”
Gasps went up, and heads swiveled to face her.
She paused to fix her hair and wipe a finger in the corners of her mouth. When she spoke, her sickly sweet accent had returned. “Daddy and I are just so happy that you all could be here tonight to celebrate our little girl’s upcoming nuptials. I know that it is difficult to believe that I am old enough to have a daughter getting married, but it’s true.” She paused, waiting for laughter or perhaps someone to shout out that it wasn’t possible, but the room was silent.
I realized with a start that not once that evening had I heard a single person refer to Vin. Every speech, announcement, or event had been about Tiffany or the wedding or even her mother, but not once was the groom mentioned. I knew that weddings were usually about the bride, but certainly he was important too?
Mixie finished her speech, which had included a long list of events that “the girls” would be attending to prepare Tiffany for “her big day,” but I had tuned out since it had nothing to do with me. She then welcomed Tiffany to the stage.
Tiffany attempted to smile sweetly at the crowd, but it looked to me like the grin of a shark about ready to attack.
“We are so glad you will be able to make it to my wedding. They are saying it will be the event of the year, and I know you are really going to enjoy it. In order for everything to go as planned, we have a few dress requirements for the wedding. I am giving them to you now so you have plenty of time to go shopping. The information will be in your gift bags by the door that you can pick up at the end of the party.”
She started flipping through papers.
I mumbled under my breath, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
A voice behind me gave me a start. “Unfortunately not.”
I spun around to face Vin. I blushed a little at being caught, but before I could say anything, Tiffany started speaking, and I turned back around as Vin came to stand by my side.
“I can’t find the page with all the instructions, so I’ll just tell you what I remember, but you must follow the rules, or you’ll be turned away at the door until you change. It would be a shame if only your gift was able to attend.” She pouted to indicate how sad it would be. “First off, no prints! Solid colors except black or white, obviously. Jewel tones are preferred, but pastels will be allowed if they are better suited to your coloring. Women must wear heels but no higher than three inches. We aren’t on a stage, ladies. No wedges, boots, or flats. Your dress can be floor length though tea length is preferred. Nothing above the knee. Strapless is not allowed. If your strap is thinner than two inches, you must wear a shawl or coat over your dress. You can wear a hat, but the brim cannot extend more than four inches at any point, and the height must be under six inches. If you do plan to wear a hat, there will be special seating for you at the ceremony, so please arrive forty-five minutes early, unlike everyone else, who needs to be there thirty minutes early. This dress code will be in effect for all wedding-related events. Now for the men…”
I couldn’t suppress a giggle. It was such a Tiffany thing to do. Maybe if I wore my flowery print dress that was above the knees with boots I wouldn’t have to attend the wedding.
Vin grunted next to me and shifted his weight. “I’ve negotiated with hostage takers that had fewer demands. This wedding is driving her nuts. I hope—” He cut himself off with a snap of his jaw.
We hadn’t really spoken much over the past year, especially once I chewed him out for his lack of respect six months earlier. Oddly enough, he had shown me more respect when I had seen him every few weeks after that. Then, as the wedding planning had heated up, I had bumped into him more often. It was like we were starting over, having never met previously. He was always polite, and we exchanged surface-level small talk that was surprisingly pleasant.
He no longer bossed me around like he still did his sister. The whole thing drove Tiffany mad as a hatter, which was an added bonus. Once I had let down my guard, I had started to enjoy our encounters where we often made each other laugh. Maybe it was my preoccupation with Thomas that helped me to keep my emotions out of the interactions, but whatever it was, I was finding it fun to talk to Vin.
But he seemed different right then, and when I spotted two empty beer mugs in his hands, I guessed the reason. His eyes did seem slightly glazed as he gestured to a waiter, who swapped out his empties for two fresh beers.
Without turning to look at me, he handed me a beer. “You’re going to need this.”
Tiffany was on stage, still talking. “Now jewelry. Obviously I would never saying anything about your wedding rings, but for all other jewelry, there are some rules. No precious stones over five carats, no semiprecious over ten carats. Now the combined weights of all your jewelry can’t be over fifty carats. I know that may mean some tough decisions. Certain stones are banned altogether. No jet, no pearls, I will allow sapphires, but no aquamarines…”
The general atmosphere of the room was turning. I could sense the emotions: anger, frustration, annoyance, and disbelief. Not exactly joyous wedding emotions. Someone in the crowd said, “Apparently fun is banned too,” just loud enough to carry over the silence when Tiffany paused. The crowd tittered in response.
Vin couldn’t read others’ emotions as far as I knew, but he could read body language. “She’s going to start a riot here.” He waved a hand over his head and made an exaggerated “Wrap it up” motion to Tiffany.
Her smile faltered. “Uh, you can read the rest at your leisure. Enjoy the rest of the evening.” She stepped away from the mic to weak applause.
Colleen came over to stand by me. She looked at the beer in my hand but said nothing with either her eyes or mouth.
I was unsure. Do Monzas drink? I handed the beer to Vin. “Vin, have you met Monza Colleen? She is visiting. This is Vin Russo. It’s his wedding to Tiffany that is being celebrated.”
Vin extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you. Are you friends of Tiffany’s family?”
“Please, just Colleen. And no, I am afraid I do not know your bride-to-be, and in fact, I have crashed your party uninvited.” But she didn’t look bothered or embarrassed. She gave him a smile that lit up her face.
A quick shot of jealousy went through me, and I was finally able to recognize the emotion for what it was. She was all the things I had seen before, and while still beautiful, she had something far more enviable though I couldn’t exactly name it. Control perhaps. Power? Definitely confidence. She was who I wanted to be. She had an ease to her that I wanted in my life. To stop being scared and running from my feelings but rather to just be. Be real. Be honest. Be me.
Vin returned her smile, the first I had seen from him in a few weeks. “My mother, Ann Russo, said you were coming. I know she had some questions for you. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Your mother’s as well. I look forward to meeting her.”
He offered her an arm. “I would love to introduce you.”
A female voice with an edge of hysteria interrupted them. “Vin!”
I turned to see Britney and Natasha leading the way
for a few other gals, who I didn’t know but assumed were the rest of Tiffany’s bridal party, barreling toward Vin.
Britney stabbed a finger into Vin’s chest. “You have got to get Tiffany under control.”
Natasha shook a bundle of papers at Vin. “Look at this schedule! I can’t spend all day, every day for the whole week tending to her every need. I have a job.”
“It’s an honor!” Tiffany shouted from behind her.
All five girls jumped at the sound of her voice, their eyes wide and round. They looked like a herd of deer facing a hungry cougar. I’m pretty sure one of them bleated in fear.
Tiffany’s face was red with anger. “I asked you guys because tradition dictates that the bride’s bridal party needs to be people she is physically close with. You all work at the Magia with me or at least nearby. I was the one being generous with my invitations. This is a real opportunity for you.” She narrowed her eyes at the girls.
The three girls I hadn’t met before shrank back, but Britney and Natasha rose to the challenge.
Natasha was fighting to gain control of her emotions. She preferred to be a happy person who made everyone feel good, but she was clearly struggling to not tear into Tiffany.
Britney on the other hand had no such internal battle. “You are nuttier than a mage bat if you think we are going to do all this stuff. And the costs! I don’t make that much in a year, and I make good money.”
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed into little slits. “How dare you speak to me like that. You’re out of the bridal party. You all are. Bunch of losers!” She was shouting, and heads started to swivel in our direction from all over.
Auntie Ann and Mixie were making their way over from separate corners of the party. Colleen was next to me, and one eyebrow rose up as she seemed to be holding back a smile.
Britney huffed in reply and threw on her most sarcastic voice. “Oh no, kicked out of the wedding. Whatever shall we do?”
Natasha put a hand on her arm, her calming influence relaxing even me a half dozen feet away. It was her gift and one that was much needed in the moment. “You’ve made your point. Why don’t we just go.” She nodded her goodbyes to the rest of us and steered Britney and the other girls toward the exit.
Nice Day for a Mage Wedding: Casino Witch Mysteries 4 Page 3