“Early American glamour,” she lied. “We’re drinking sidecars.”
He grinned. “Excellent. Almost makes me want to stick around.”
She patted his cheek. “Sorry, witches only.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “The wart isn’t that bad.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding.
“I want to be a witch when I grow up,” Ava announced.
Kate gave her daughter a solemn look. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Chapter Seven
With Kate’s help, Lucas was able to get the kids out the door on time. She gave him the keys to the Land Rover and warned him not to park too close to other cars.
“I’ll tell you if he speeds,” Brett called over his shoulder.
“Must be nice to have informants,” Lucas said wryly.
She smiled. “And they work for free.”
She closed the door behind them and hustled into the kitchen to finish tidying up from dinner. A busy day was no excuse to leave a mess. They may be her friends, but they were still guests.
Libbie was the first to arrive.
“Why did you want to host tonight? And why are you wearing a silk scarf on your head? I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s very pretty, but it’s not your style.”
Kate ushered her friend inside. “There was an issue with hair color. I didn’t want to leave the house.”
Libbie cast her a sidelong glance as they walked to the kitchen. “The salon messed up your hair?”
“No.” Kate heaved a sigh. “I messed up my hair. The salon cancelled because my stylist has the flu and they couldn’t fit me in until next week.”
“So you took matters into your own hands?”
“What choice did I have? I film a video every week and my roots were showing.”
Libbie bit her lip, eyeing the scarf. “Dare I ask to see the damage?”
Kate placed a hand firmly on her head. “No way. This scarf is staying put.”
“Where’s the family?” Libbie asked, her gaze sweeping the downstairs area.
“Lucas took them to a movie.”
Libbie arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You found a movie that appeals to a six-year-old girl, two boys, and an adult man?”
“No, I found a movie that Ava wanted to see, so Lucas is with her, and the boys are seeing a different film at the same cinema. Something spooky.”
“Smart.”
The doorbell rang.
“Would you mind getting that while I open the prosecco?” Kate asked. The cocktail club usually kicked off the evening with a flute of the bubbly alcohol and Kate was all about upholding standards.
A moment later, Libbie returned to the kitchen with Rebecca and Julie. Kate felt a pang of loss as she pictured Inga among them.
“Nice scarf,” Rebecca commented.
Libbie shushed her. “I told you not to mention it.”
“How can I not mention it? The second you told us, it became the elephant in the room.” Rebecca shifted her attention to Kate. “Come on. Let’s get it over with.”
“How about a drink first?” Kate offered. “I’ll start.” She plucked a flute from the island.
“Yes, I highly recommend liquid courage,” Libbie said.
“You would,” Julie said. “Look how it’s worked out for you.”
Each woman took a flute from the island.
“Cheers to another Friday, friends,” Kate said.
They raised their flutes in unison and each took a sip.
Kate downed half her prosecco in one gulp. “I like this one. Less sweet than last week.”
“Enough chitchat,” Rebecca said. “Show us.”
Kate reluctantly removed the scarf from her head and awaited the inevitable laughter.
“Pink is trendy, isn’t it?” Julie asked.
“I can’t have pink hair,” Kate said. “I’m not a gamer. I’m a motivational speaker.”
“If anyone can make it work, you can,” Libbie said. “You’ll probably start a new trend among white-collar women.”
Kate finished the rest of her drink. “I’m going to adjust the lighting in the office before I record next time and see if that helps. If that fails, I’ll try editing it before I upload.”
“Can’t you just color it again tomorrow?” Julie asked.
“Not unless I want to be bald,” Kate replied.
Cat-Cat shot into the room and stopped directly at Rebecca’s feet. That cat was no dummy.
“She chose the easy target,” Libbie said, smiling.
Rebecca crouched down to stroke the cat’s soft fur. “How are you two getting along?”
“Better than expected,” Kate said. There’d been no scratching and only the occasional hiss—and the cat had behaved, too.
“That’s good to hear,” Rebecca said. “I mean, I’m always willing to take her if you find it too difficult.”
Julie nearly choked on her bubbles. “Too difficult? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”
Kate felt her cheeks warm. She certainly wasn’t feeling infallible these days. “The cat seems to have settled in fine.”
“She seems happy to me,” Libbie chimed in.
“I don’t think she likes the food I bought,” Kate said. “She seems to eat it begrudgingly.”
Rebecca smiled. “I’d be happy to drop off a bag of what I use.”
“Don’t go out of your way,” Kate said. “She’s eating. She just seems to have an attitude about it.”
“That’s called a cat,” Julie said with a laugh.
“I’m busy this weekend, but I can stop by on Monday afternoon,” Rebecca said.
“Ooh, big plans?” Julie prodded.
“I’m going to a dog show in Philadelphia and staying overnight.”
“By yourself?” Libbie asked.
Rebecca appeared unperturbed. “Yes, but there’ll be lots of other bitches there.”
Julie clutched her stomach and pretended to belly laugh.
Rebecca’s knees cracked as she resumed a standing position.
“Ouch,” Libbie said. “That sounded painful.”
Rebecca swept her flute off the island for another drink. “Better than a muscle cramp. Speaking of—how’s your back, Kate?”
“Good, thanks.”
“I enjoyed talking to you when on muscle relaxers,” Rebecca said. “You should think about keeping them in stock.”
“That’s what cocktail club is for,” Kate said. Who needed pills when she had tequila?
Julie leaned her forearms flat on the counter. “What’s the special drink tonight?”
Kate knew which drink it wasn’t—there was no way she’d mix the cocktail from Inga’s book. She didn’t need to infect her friends with warts and traitorous muscles too.
Rebecca looked at her sideways. “You look tired. Don’t tell me you actually lost sleep over your hair.”
Kate didn’t miss the sharp look Libbie gave their friend.
Kate’s instinct was to run to a mirror to examine her face for dark circles, but she held her ground. “I’ve been off.”
“Did something happen?” Julie asked.
“Aside from the hairy boulder on my face, my hair, my back, and the fact that I need reading glasses, everything’s peachy keen.”
“Wait, what?” Libbie squinted at her. “You didn’t tell me about the glasses.”
“Show us,” Julie said.
“I don’t know where I put them,” Kate said.
“Lies,” Libbie said. “You know where you put the spare kitchen tiles from when you renovated your house ten years ago. You absolutely know where your new reading glasses are.”
Kate decided to distract them with Inga’s book. She and Libbie had agreed to keep the cocktail recipe between them until they knew more, but Kate opted to ditch their plan.
“I have a recipe,” she announced.
Julie and Rebecca exchanged looks.
“A magical
recipe?” Julie asked.
“I don’t know how magical it is, but it appeared in my book and it’s not my handwriting,” Kate said.
She opened the book on the island so they could examine the page.
“It’s pretty,” Julie said. “I love the color.”
“Do you want to make us one?” Rebecca asked.
“No,” Kate said quickly.
“I’ll make the drinks tonight,” Libbie offered.
“Might as well. You’re the expert now.” Julie didn’t bother to disguise her disgruntled tone.
“Your time will come,” Libbie said. “It’s part of your inheritance.”
Kate watched in awe as her friend mixed and shook and poured like it was second nature to her. Libbie was a chef, not a mixologist, not that you would know by watching her work.
“Dirty martinis tonight, ladies,” she announced.
Kate’s lips formed a wry smile. “Lucas’s favorite.”
“He can have the leftovers,” Julie said.
Rebecca barked a laugh. “As if there are ever leftovers from cocktail club.”
Kate stared out the window at the darkness. “The days are getting shorter.”
“So what? You love autumn.” Libbie handed her a martini glass filled to the brim.
“I do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” Everything, it seemed.
“That’s how I felt after my first cocktail appeared, remember?” Libbie distributed the rest of the martini glasses.
“This is different,” Kate said.
Libbie gave her an amused look. “Why? Because it’s you?”
Kate dipped her head, feeling sheepish. “Yes?”
“Trust the process,” Libbie said.
Kate swallowed a mouthful of the martini. “The process is making me into a hag.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You could have ten warts and still be the most beautiful woman this side of the Mississippi. I bet Lucas hasn’t even noticed.”
Kate winced.
“Has he?” Julie sounded surprised.
Libbie slapped her hands on the table. “We should focus on the positive. Let’s toast to Kate’s inevitable book deal.”
Rebecca gasped. “Book deal? Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Me, too,” Julie added.
Kate slumped her shoulders. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
“Since when? You share all your milestones with us,” Rebecca said.
“She didn’t want to rub it in,” Libbie said.
“How would she be rubbing it in?” Julie asked, appearing perplexed. “I’m not trying to get a book deal. I read them, not write them.”
“It’s only a discussion at this point,” Kate said. “That’s why I only told Libbie. Once we’ve signed the contract, I’ll be happy to shout it from the rooftops.”
“I hope you’re getting a huge advance,” Rebecca said.
“I’m sure she will,” Libbie said. “It’s with a major publisher. MacGuffin.” She turned to look at Kate. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”
“MacGuffin?” Rebecca frowned. “Isn’t that the one that was trending on Twitter a few weeks ago?”
Awareness flickered in Julie’s eyes. “Yes, they’re publishing the autobiography of that horrible director. The one that drugged all those underaged girls who auditioned for him.”
Kate brushed aside the concern. “It’s not like we’ll share an editor.”
“No, but you’d be making money for a company without scruples,” Rebecca said. “Helping them acquire more money to do more unscrupulous things.”
A book deal had been a significant part of Kate’s professional plan. She didn’t want to deviate from it because of the publishing company’s poor choices.
“I’d also be making money for my family and gaining more exposure,” Kate said.
“I bet if MacGuffin is willing to publish you, then another company would, too,” Julie said.
“Not so far,” Kate said. And she was ready to tick that box no matter which publisher it was.
An awkward silence followed.
“Excellent martini, Libbie,” Julie said.
“Why do you sound so sad about it?” Libbie asked.
“Because I’m bummed about my nonexistent magic.” Julie exhaled loudly. “I bet it’s because I don’t completely rinse glass bottles before I recycle them.”
“If there were stringent rules, Ethan would’ve told us about them,” Libbie said. “Information seems hard to come by.”
“No kidding,” Kate said. “Believe me, I’ve searched.”
“It’s fine if I never inherit magic,” Rebecca said. “I’d be a terrible witch anyway.”
Libbie gasped. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you say that?”
Rebecca swept a wavy strand of hair from her forehead. “Oh, come on. We all know I’m the loser of this group. You’re all accomplished women. I don’t even know how I ended up in the club.”
“Inga,” Kate said simply.
“Yes, Inga chose each of us,” Libbie chimed in. “Do you really think Inga hand-selected losers to spend time with her on Friday nights?”
“I wonder how many other women are out there right now, wondering when their magic will manifest?” Julie asked.
“Maybe midlife magic will become the new trend,” Libbie said. “Instead of waiting for a letter from Hogwarts, middle-age women everywhere will be waiting for some witch to die so they can inherit their assets.”
“Except this isn’t new,” Kate said. “It’s just an extremely well-kept secret.”
“Like the location of Paul Rudd’s fountain of youth,” Julie said.
“Or Tom Cruise’s high level of crazy,” Rebecca added.
Kate gave her a pointed look. “I think that cat’s out of the bag.”
Before they finished their martinis, Libbie refilled their glasses. Kate decided she’d drink until she was too tired to drink anymore. At least she was home and didn’t have to worry about driving.
“This is my last one,” Julie announced, as though reading Kate’s mind. “I’m driving tonight.”
“Ethan’s picking me up,” Libbie said with a bashful smile.
“So he can drive you home and bend you like a pretzel?” Rebecca asked.
“I’ll need to do more yoga before there’ll be any pretzel twisting,” Libbie admitted. “I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“Thank goodness,” Julie said. “Who wants to be fifteen again? Not me.”
“Me neither,” Kate said quietly. Definitely not fifteen.
“I bet you were more organized than the teachers in school,” Julie said to Kate.
Libbie nodded. “She’s always been the most together person I know.”
“Not lately,” Kate confessed. “I’m a mess.”
Rebecca gaped at her. “A mess? You’re a machine.”
“I’m not,” Kate insisted. She disliked when people described her that way; it made her seem cold and robotic. “I just have to ignore the obstacles and distractions and keep asking myself what I intend to do next. What’s the next step to get me closer to my goal?”
“One foot in front of the other,” Julie interjected. “I get it. That’s how I got through Greg’s death, in no small part thanks to you, Kate.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” Kate objected.
“Are you kidding? Do you know how hard it is to offer words of compassion to someone in my position? People say all sorts of weird crap and I give them all a pass because until you’ve stood in my shoes...” Julie trailed off. “I didn’t hold it against anyone, but I really appreciated when someone said what I felt was the right thing.”
Rebecca paled. “I said something stupid, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”
“No, no. I don’t mean to suggest that you two weren’t supportive. Honestly, you were all great. Inga, too.” Julie stared vacantly at the table. “It takes a special skill to talk to a young widow and actua
lly make them feel better. That’s all I was trying to say.”
Kate pressed her lips together, feeling a bevy of emotions beginning to stir. “I’m glad I helped.”
“I like that you described yourself as young when you were what—mid-forties?” Rebecca asked, smirking.
Julie punched her arm. “Such a bitch. You should be competing in that dog show.”
“You’re not going to come home with another pet, are you?” Kate asked.
Rebecca swallowed half her martini. “No, I’d just like to watch the show.”
“I won’t offer to go with you,” Kate said. “The way my luck’s been going, I’ll release the hounds and the city will be overrun with purebreds.”
“Things can’t be that bad,” Julie said. “You’re talking about a potential book deal.”
Kate decided not to mention the radio show proposal since she wasn’t bringing it up to Lucas until their anniversary dinner this weekend.
“My life feels off kilter,” Kate said.
“That happened to me, remember?” Libbie asked.
Kate shook her head. “No, it’s not the same. You chose to quit your job. You chose to confront Chris. I didn’t choose this.” She pointed to the offending spot on her chin.
Her friends exchanged concerned looks.
“I know it’s easy for me to say because I haven’t gone through it, but maybe ride it out and see what happens next?” Julie suggested.
Kate didn’t like that answer. She wasn’t the type to ride things out. She crafted solutions. “What am I supposed to do?”
Libbie gave her a sympathetic smile. “Figure out how to make that experience the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“If a wart is the best thing that ever happens to me, let’s plan my funeral now,” Kate snapped.
“I don’t know. You’re rocking that pink hair,” Rebecca said.
“Look, entertain me for a second,” Kate said. “What if there really was a mistake with my cocktail? Where is it written that witches don’t screw up?”
“It’s magic, Kate. We don’t fully understand how it works yet,” Libbie said. “I’ll send you the links for the books I bought to learn more about magic. I’m still using them pretty regularly, or else I’d let you borrow them.”
Kate cocked her head, remembering. “The ones with the illustrations of the plants?”
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