Bewitching Bitters

by Annabel Chase

  Kate rifled through her cosmetics basket and retrieved a pair of tweezers. At least if she could liberate that single hair, she could cover the rest with makeup until she figured out how to remove it. She leaned forward for a closer view of the wart and attempted to pluck the hair. She blinked. The hair was still there.

  “I need a better mirror,” she said.

  She shuffled to the other side of the counter where she’d installed a shaving mirror for Lucas. The sight of the magnified hair made her shudder. There was no way she could leave the house like this. She tried again with the tweezers, but the hair refused to budge.

  What the hell?

  “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Ava’s voice rang out from downstairs.

  “Coming,” she called. She’d have to deal with this after breakfast.

  She entered the kitchen, where the kids were seated at the table. Gavin and Brett had bowls of cereal, but Ava’s placemat was empty.

  “I don’t want cereal,” Ava said, as though reading her mother’s mind.

  Gavin glanced up from his bowl. “You look like Nanny McPhee.”

  Kate fought the urge to burst into tears.

  “That’s a good thing, Mommy,” Ava chimed in. “It means you’ll get more beautiful the better we behave.”

  “But we already behave,” Gavin said.

  “And you’re already beautiful,” Brett said.

  “I don’t think this has anything to do with you, sweetie,” Kate said. She’d done this to herself somehow and now she had to find a way to undo it.

  She’d never hurried the children to school so quickly. She prayed she didn’t run into anyone she knew.

  She didn’t drive straight home afterward. Instead, she stopped to see Libbie. Maybe her friend could help.

  Libbie was surprised to see her unexpected guest. “How’d it go?”

  Kate brushed past her and entered the house. “I must’ve done something wrong. I think my cocktail backfired.” Kate heard the note of panic in her voice and tried to squelch it. Panic wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She was known for keeping a cool head during times of crisis. Finding your mother dead on the floor can have that effect.

  “What makes you think that?” Libbie asked.

  Kate drew an imaginary circle around her face. “Can’t you see it? My face is Manhattan and this wart is the Empire State Building.”

  Libbie squinted at Kate’s chin. “Oh, that? Are you sure it’s a wart? It looks like a zit that you tried to pop.”

  Kate recoiled in horror. “Would I ever be foolish enough to squeeze a zit on my face? I could end up with a scar.”

  “Well, right now it looks like you’ve ended up with a weird bump on your chin. I’m sure makeup can cover it.”

  Kate was gobsmacked that her best friend was taking this development so lightly. “I have to walk around town and be seen. I’m volunteering at school for the play. The children will cower in fear at the sight of me.”

  Libbie smirked. “They do that already.”

  Kate wasn’t amused. “They’ll think I’m playing the Beast.”

  “To be fair, he’s a good character.” Libbie waved a hand. “Except for that whole imprisoning people for no reason part.”

  Kate’s throat felt tight and dry. Why was Libbie being so difficult? Couldn’t she see what a big problem this was? Kate didn’t have the usual issues of other women and she worked tirelessly to make it so.

  “There’s something else,” Kate said.

  Libbie grew alert. “What?”

  “I packed the wrong lunches.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kate heaved a sigh. “I mean I gave Gavin's lunch to Ava and Ava’s lunch to Gavin.” She’d only realized on the drive to Libbie’s.

  “Well, at least with three kids you got one of them right.”

  Kate glared at her. “I have never once in the history of making lunches made a mistake, Elizabeth.”

  Libbie shrank away at the use of her given name. “Okay, I can see we have a situation. So what’s next? That’s your favorite question, right?”

  “I don’t know. That’s my concern. What if I turn into a toad?”

  Libbie offered a patient smile. “No, I mean what’s next, as in how are you going to handle the lunches?”

  “I guess I could go back to the middle school first...” But she didn’t want anyone in school to see her face.

  “Why not just let them eat a different lunch? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  They can hate me forever. They’ll talk about it in therapy for years to come—the day their mother neglected their needs and gave them tuna instead of turkey and cheese.

  “I just don’t want them to get upset,” Kate said.

  “They’ll be fine. They’ll come home and probably complain, eat a snack, and then go on their merry way.”

  Kate mulled it over. “I guess you’re right. It’s just that I don’t mess up like that. I don’t understand what happened.”

  “You’re human, Katherine Golden. That’s what happened.”

  Kate pressed her lips together, trying to come to grips with her fallibility. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I’m sure it won’t, but even if it does, it’s okay.” Libbie held out her arms and looked at her with uncertainty. “Want a hug or are we not that far gone?”

  Kate wasn’t much of a hugger, which her friend knew well. “I’m good, but I appreciate the offer.” An idea occurred to her. “Do you think I should talk to Ethan?”

  Libbie frowned. “About what?”

  “About this whole witch thing. Maybe he can cancel the contract and the wart will go away.”

  “There’s no contract, Kate.”

  “Yes, there is. We signed something. Why don’t I have him draft a new contract that rescinds the original one? Or my lawyer can do it if you think he’s too busy.”

  Libbie gave her friend a sympathetic look. “I know you’re feeling panicked right now, but I don’t think signing a contract to refuse Inga’s assets will change anything.”

  Kate felt her pent-up frustration bubbling to the surface. “It isn’t right. You shouldn’t be able to force someone to inherit something they don’t want.”

  “No one forced you. You took in Cat-Cat and you accepted the division of her magical assets.”

  Kate jerked a finger at her wart. “This is black magic, Libbie. I don’t want to dabble in the dark arts. I’ve seen Harry Potter two hundred times. I know how that turns out.”

  “Try to calm down.” Libbie clamped a hand over her mouth the moment the words left her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Kate knew why her friend was sorry. They’d agreed long ago that telling a woman to calm down was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard and warranted a swift kick in the crotch.

  Libbie gave her friend’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Hang in there. I don’t think you messed up the recipe. I think you need to sit back and listen to whatever the universe is trying to tell you. That’s what I had to do.”

  “The universe is apparently telling me I need a reverse makeover. Gavin called me Nanny McPhee.”

  Libbie laughed. “Well, Emma Thompson is amazing, so that’s a huge compliment.”

  Some of the tension eased from Kate’s body. It was incredible what a difference a conversation with a friend could make—that was the real magic.

  “I hate to diagnose you and run, but I’ve got work to do.”

  “Yeah, same.” And then she needed to go to school to drop off costumes for play rehearsals. Maybe she could dump them and run before anyone got a good look at her. “Thanks for talking me down from the ledge.”

  Libbie smiled. “What are friends for?”

  “Fair warning, though,” Kate said. “If I wake up with a club foot, I’m driving straight over to your house and beating you with it.”

  Libbie shook her head, laughing. “Deal.”

  Despite her best efforts, Kate was not able to avoid human contact at s
chool. She did, however, cake on enough foundation to erect a building on her face.

  She rushed into the auditorium where the actors and parent helpers were already gathered on the stage.

  “Oh, good. Wonder Woman’s here.” Kendra Dunbar walked to the edge of the stage to greet her.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I got stuck on a client call.” That rarely happened. Kate typically left enough time between tasks to prevent overflow.

  Kendra glanced at Kate’s empty hands. “Where are the costumes? You said you’d bring them today.”

  Kate slapped her forehead. “Right. Yes. They’re in the car. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried out of the auditorium and back to the parking lot, feeling like an idiot. She’d been driving around with the bag in the trunk for so long that she’d forgotten it was there. It hadn’t been easy to source the costumes for the villagers. She’d called a dozen thrift shops and then drove two hours roundtrip to get what they needed.

  She popped open the trunk and tugged on the bag. It was heavier than she remembered. As she yanked it out of the car, the bag split and the clothes came tumbling out, spilling onto the pavement.

  “Terrific,” she muttered.

  She bent down to collect them and felt a twinge in her lower back. Pain radiated from the spot, traveling to her hip and then to the far points of her body. She whimpered and tried to lean against the car but realized she was in too much pain to move an inch. Now she had a hunched back and a wart. Not the Beast, then. Quasimodo.

  “Kate, are you okay?”

  Kate bit back a groan. She recognized the voice of Hannah Greer, another parent volunteer. Hannah was the last person she wanted to see her like this. Her daughter Camille was in Gavin's class, and Hannah was forever comparing the two students, despite the fact that Gavin seemed to outshine Hannah in every category. Hannah had a history of cornering Kate and quizzing her about Gavin’s grades and college aspirations. Kate felt a little sorry for Camille. The girl seemed perfectly nice and not remotely interested in competing with Gavin. Lucas had been subjected to more than one rant on the subject, usually following a school function. The last time Kate had raised the subject, after a brutal Back to School night where the classrooms seemed to be ninety degrees, Lucas had laughed and called Kate a hypocrite. Kate had vehemently disagreed; she’d always pursued excellence on her own behalf but wasn’t nearly as hard on her children. Gavin was competitive on the soccer field and she approved of that. His good grades—they came from doing his best rather than measuring himself against others. Lucas had listened to these arguments with a smirk on his face but said nothing more on the subject.

  Kate managed to open her mouth without crying. “I’ve pulled a muscle and can’t move.”

  “Oh, no.” Hannah moved closer and Kate noticed the frayed laces of the woman’s Converse sneakers. “Should I see if the school nurse is still here?”

  “I don’t think a dose of liquid Tylenol will do the trick.”

  “I see Renee across the parking lot.” Hannah jumped up and down and Kate pictured the stout woman crisscrossing her arms above her head.

  “Is Renee a chiropractor or something?” Kate couldn’t remember what Renee did for a living, only that she had extremely curly hair and freckles so numerous and close together they reminded Kate of a Georges Seurat painting.

  “No.” Hannah leaned down to whisper in Kate’s ear. “She’s a pharmacist.”

  “What’s going on, ladies?” Renee’s voice had a singsong quality that Kate associated with perky children and Disney princesses.

  “Poor Kate seems to be stuck in this position,” Hannah explained. “She pulled a muscle in her back.”

  “That sucks,” Renee said.

  “We all have our problem areas,” Hannah said. “Even Kate, apparently.”

  Renee leaned over to whisper in Kate’s ear. “I’m not supposed to do this, but I have muscle relaxers in my bag. Are you able to take those?”

  “Yes,” Kate croaked, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “I’m not on any medications.”

  “Perfect.” Renee sounded so cheerful that it set Kate’s teeth on edge. “Can you swallow them without water?”

  “Yes.”

  Kate heard the sound of rustling.

  “Here we are.”

  Kate held her mouth open until she felt the two pills hit her tongue. She swallowed them gratefully.

  “Why don’t we try to move you into a more comfortable position?” Renee placed a gentle hand on Kate’s lower back. “I don’t want to hurt you. Can you shuffle closer to the trunk and maybe we can lay you down on your side?”

  “There’s Mr. Powell,” Hannah chirped. “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Powell! We could use your help over here.”

  “Good idea. He’s strong,” Renee said.

  “And very attractive,” Hannah added.

  Kate cringed. The middle school history teacher was also the soccer coach. The only upside to this debacle was that no one could see her wart.

  “We seem to have a situation,” Renee said.

  “I can see that,” Mr. Powell said. “How are you holding up, Kate?”

  “I’m not.” Kate knew he was assessing her and she suddenly wished she weren’t in quite such a provocative position with her butt sticking out like a horny baboon.

  “Did you sneeze?” he asked. “The last time my wife pulled her back out, it was because she sneezed.”

  “That makes me pee my pants,” Renee offered. She didn’t sound remotely embarrassed by the admission.

  “I didn’t sneeze,” Kate said. “I was lifting a bag of costumes out of the trunk for the school play.”

  “I see that,” Renee said.

  Hannah clucked her tongue. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “Let’s get you situated and then I’ll get these costumes off the pavement,” Renee said.

  “Thank you,” Kate whispered. It took all her energy not to cry.

  Between the three of them, they shifted Kate into the trunk.

  “It feels so strange to see you like this,” Hannah said. “You’re Kate Golden. I picture you leaping over tall buildings and stopping trains with one hand tied behind your back.”

  “You seem to have her confused with Superman,” Renee said.

  Shame washed over Kate as she listened to them discuss her. No one was supposed to see her like this, so helpless and vulnerable. Word was bound to get around that she’d been defeated by a bag of clothes.

  “Would you like me to bring the bag into the auditorium?” Mr. Powell offered.

  “I would appreciate that,” Kate said quietly.

  “Do you want me to call your husband?” Hannah asked.

  “You should,” Renee said. “She won’t be able to drive once the muscle relaxers kick in.”

  “Will someone tell my sons I’m here?” Kate asked. “I don’t want them to think I’ve forgotten them.”

  Hannah laughed. “As if you’d ever do a thing like that.”

  At least Ava was at a friend’s house. Small mercies.

  Kate dozed off while waiting for help to arrive. It turned out Lucas was in a meeting and unreachable, so Rebecca and Julie were the ones to show up. Rebecca drove the Land Rover with Kate and the boys, and Julie drove behind them to take Rebecca home again afterward.

  “Thank you,” Kate slurred. She could hardly keep her eyes open.

  “No problem,” Rebecca said. “I hope that spasm doesn’t come back. Sounds like it was pretty fierce.”

  She and Julie helped Kate into the house and got her settled.

  “Do you want us to stay and make dinner?” Julie asked.

  “This is when you want Libbie instead of us,” Rebecca added.

  Kate barely registered their conversation. She fell asleep on the couch and awoke in a confused state. The house was dark and there was a trail of dried drool on her arm.

  “You’re up,” Lucas said. He crossed the room to look at her. “How do you feel?”


  “Like someone stuffed cotton balls in my mouth.”

  “Drugs will do that to you. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  Kate sat up. “I can do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She stretched, careful not to pull her muscles too hard. “I feel fine now.” She rose to her feet and surveyed the downstairs. “Where are the kids?”

  “Confined to their rooms. I didn’t want them to disturb you.”

  “Ava, too?”

  “Grace drove her home.”

  That was a relief. “I should make dinner.” She walked to the kitchen and spotted dishes in the sink.

  “We’ve eaten. There are leftovers if you’re hungry.”

  Kate cast a curious look at him. “You made dinner?”

  “No, Julie and Rebecca did.”

  He stared at her face and, for a fleeting moment, Kate wondered what he was looking at. Then she remembered.

  “What’s on your chin?” he asked.

  “A witch’s wart. Part of my inheritance from Inga, apparently.”

  “Seems a bit cruel.” He observed her closely. “Are you sure you feel well?”

  She poured water from the tap and drank. “Well enough.”

  The sound of a ringing phone drew her attention to the island.

  “It’s yours,” Lucas said. “Want me to get it?”

  “I can do it.” Excitement shot through her when she recognized the New York City exchange. Finally, something good today.

  “Kate Golden.”

  “How’s it going, superstar?” Timothy Turnbull asked in his booming voice. Kate held the phone slightly away from her ear.

  “Never a dull moment,” she said. No need to share the details of her disastrous day. “Are you ready to set up another call?”

  “Sure am. How’s tomorrow?”

  Kate glanced at tomorrow’s schedule on the whiteboard. She had two appointments, plus the kids’ activities. A busy day, but she could make it work. This was a potential book deal. The cherry on top of a success sundae. She would make it work.

  “Whenever’s good for you,” she said.

  “How does four o’clock sound?”

  “I’ll put it on the calendar. Speak to you then.”