Legacy Of Magick (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 1) (13 page)

While Holly and Ivy stayed busy setting the table, Aunt Gwen had come in through the potting room. “Bickering again?” She asked as she set her purse down. Then she went straight to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of wine, poured herself a large glass, and proceeded to drink it. Straight down.

“Rough day?” I asked her, and smiled at her shooting back the wine.

“It was a long one.” Gwen admitted.

I knew when to let an argument drop and pretend like all was fine and normal in the world. So I put that skill to use now. I offered to go pick up dinner, located my shoes and purse, and headed out to the truck.

A short while later, I was gathering up all of the bags of food from the Jade Dragon restaurant. My mind on the incredible smells coming from the bags, I moved towards the exit. Since my hands were full, I spun around and used my butt to push open the door. Suddenly the door was pulled open behind me.

I managed an “Oops!” as I over balanced and bobbled the bags of Chinese food.

A strong pair of calloused hands grabbed my shoulders steadying me, and a little electric shock, like a strong snap of static electricity, zipped right up my neck to the top of my head.

“Sorry!” A familiar laughing male voice said.

I looked over my shoulder and discovered none other than Duncan, standing there grinning down at me. Today, he was wearing a faded black t-shirt, dusty jeans, and well used work boots. He smelled pleasantly of saw dust and sweat. And there I was, practically in his arms. Again. “We
really
have to stop meeting like this.” I muttered and straightened. Good grief, would I ever be around the man and not look like a klutz?

“Let me give you a hand.” He chuckled and took a couple of the bags of food from me.

“That’s alright.” I started to protest, and he frowned at me. I realized he was only being friendly, and I had let all the family’s talk get to me in the past few weeks. Determined to be friendly in return, I gestured to my truck, “I’m parked right over here.”

Duncan turned and spoke to two other men that were with him, and they went inside the restaurant. As they were all dressed similarly; I guessed they must have come from their job site.

I opened the cab door, set the bags down on the bench seat, and then reached back for the bags Duncan held. Setting them in place, I saw Duncan frowning at the landscaping logo that was still on the door of the truck. I should probably have that removed, but I really hadn’t worked up to it yet.

“Your father was a landscaper?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“Do you know anything about landscaping?” He asked thoughtfully.

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you trying to offend me? I worked landscaping with my dad all through high school and every summer when I was in college. And then for another year and a half full time.” I tilted my head and finished with, “Bet your ass I
know
landscaping.”

“Really?” He said considering, “I could use someone with a good eye for landscape design at the house I’m flipping. The yard is trashed, and I want to have some low maintenance plants put in. Maybe add some flowers for color when the house goes on the market at the end of the month.”

“Are you looking for advice or someone to plant the yard?” I asked him.

“Both.” He said taking a pen and a business card out of his pocket. “Tell you what — why don’t you come by this address tomorrow morning and I’ll give you the tour. You can decide if you want to take the project on. If you want the job, then we can talk about your fee, afterwards.” He wrote an address on the card and handed it to me.

Pleased, at both the opportunity to see him again and the chance of having a job opportunity fall into my lap, I accepted the card. We agreed that I would drop by around eight in the morning, and he left with a casual wave and headed inside to join his friends.

I tucked the card into my purse. What would the family think about this development? As I made the short drive back to the manor I decided to say nothing about bumping into Duncan again or his request. The family would flip if they thought I was considering working with a member of the Drake family.

I let myself in to the manor, my mind occupied on what I’d wear when I saw Duncan in the morning, and I tripped on the rug just inside the door. I caught myself and headed back towards the kitchen calling out that dinner had arrived.

Maybe I’ll be graceful in my next life.

***    

Saturday morning, I woke early as usual, and then waited impatiently until it was time to go meet Duncan. I took a critical look at my clothes, considered the high heat, and chose carefully. I had either seen the man while sweaty and disheveled from running, casual in shorts and a t shirt, wet and freaked out at the club pool, or wearing blue jean shorts and tripping into him at the Chinese restaurant. My mother would say it was vanity, but I figured it was more about making a good impression on a prospective client.

Realistically, I could not stroll over to the house in a dress and some cute strappy sandals. That was ridiculous, not to mention risky on a job site. However, I could at least make an effort to appear a bit more polished up than he had ever seen me before. I decided on a pretty amethyst colored tank top to go with my heavy khaki work shorts, compliments of my former nursery-employee days. I rooted through the colorful explosion of my sock drawer and then dug my old, sturdy shoes out of the closet. As I sat on the bench at the foot of the bed to put them on, I saw Merlin looking me over with a blink.

“What, too many colors together?” I asked him. My very own feline version of
What Not to Wear...
I had grabbed one yellow and purple striped sock and a solid royal blue one. They peeked cheerfully right above the edges of my shoes and made me grin.

No, my socks never matched, and I liked it that-a-way. A girl is allowed to have a few quirks after all, besides the whole “The Sight” thing at least.

Anyway, my Dad always told me when I was little that wearing socks that did not match would keep you from being faery led. You know, tricked by the little people. I smiled a bit as I looked at the framed picture of my father sitting on the mantle of the white painted brick fireplace in my new room. It was the last really good photo I had of him and me together.

To compensate for the sturdy shoes, I traded my glasses for contact lenses, painted on a neat, cat’s eye stroke of black eyeliner, added a bit more eye shadow, and smeared on some tinted lip balm. For a change, I left my hair down, sprayed on a bit of lavender body spray, and called it good.

I snagged my purse and notebook and walked casually out into the hall, only to find Ivy waiting for me. “Where are you going?” she asked.

There was really no way to sneak out of this house, was there? “What are you doing up so early? You’re going to blow your un-dead image, Ivy.” I made a face, and tried to walk around her.

She shifted and blocked. “I had a dream about you. It woke me up, and I wondered where you were going so early.”

Was that Witch powers or plain old intuition?
I had a second to debate, and then decided I’d answer as honest as possible and see how that worked. “I’m going to see a man about a job.”

Looking me over critically, she announced. “You need earrings. I’ve got some you can borrow. Come with me.” Not giving me a chance to argue, she tugged me down the hall to the large back turret room that she shared with her sister. Holly was sound asleep in her bed. Ivy quietly rooted around in her jewelry box for a moment and handed me a pair of amethyst point earrings.

“Those are pretty.” I whispered and admired how they seemed to glow in the light.

“Amethyst brings clarity, good luck, and protection against negative magick.” Ivy said softly as I put the earrings on.

I had no idea what to say to that, so I murmured my thanks and headed out. As I climbed in the truck, I noticed the gates were open, just like magick. I really had to remember to ask about that one of these days... I programmed the address Duncan had given me into my phone and followed the directions to the house.

I did feel a little guilty about not telling the family that my appointment was with Duncan, but I wanted to gather a little information from some source other than my cousins. I was curious what Duncan would say about this supposed family drama. Meeting him in a public place and outdoors was smart. In the middle of a nice, quiet family neighborhood where people would be around was about as safe as I was liable to get.

A short while later I pulled up in front of a ranch style house that was deep in the throes of rehabbing. I parked my truck and noted the real estate sign in the yard that announced ‘Coming Soon!’ I wasn’t at all surprised to see the agent’s name was listed as Rebecca Drake-Quinn.

There was a blue truck in the driveway with the tailgate down. The truck’s bed was filled with construction odds and ends and what looked like new shutters. As I climbed out of my truck, I automatically grabbed my notebook and pen and started to jot down impressions as I surveyed the little front yard. It really had potential to be charming. The small yard was neatly divided, almost dead center, by a stone path that came from the driveway and curved up to the front door.

I looked at the yard and let my imagination go a bit until I could see a picture in my mind of a garden layout. Then I fell into my old routine from working with my dad. I took out my cell phone and took a few pictures of the house. For the next few moments I worked quietly.

The front yard of the house was fairly flat. It would be easy to add some colorful perennials and annuals in beds, maybe a crescent shaped flower bed to hug the curve of the flagstone path, and a flowering tree on the side away from the driveway. Excited by the possibilities I started a quick sketch. Adding notes on possible plants and flowers on the side of the paper. I was only interrupted by a friendly, “Good morning,” from a very pregnant woman pushing a toddler in a stroller past me on the sidewalk.

The front door to the little house opened and there stood Duncan. The morning sun seemed to illuminate his sandy blonde hair. A tool belt slung low at his hips over khaki cargo shorts. Like me, he had on sturdy boots. To my surprise, he wore a ratty old t-shirt that had seen better days. It was a faded orange, paint splattered, and I could barely make out an old fraternity logo. “Morning.” He smiled. He looked harmless, standing there in the doorway of the little house.

I smiled back automatically and felt my heart rap up against my ribs. “Hey,” was the best I could manage. I could tell he’d been working for a while, he looked adorably work rumpled, and honestly? Sexy as hell in that tool belt.

While part of me snickered at the idea of a tool belt being sexy, damned if it didn’t look good on him. All the dire warnings of my family faded away. I mean seriously... How could anybody who wore old work clothes, worked manual labor,
and
was that good looking, be evil?

For once, I did not want to be at a disadvantage with him. I struggled to act like a professional, and not just stand there and sigh over him. Confidence was my word of the day, I decided. I would be confident no matter what. With that thought in mind, I snapped back to the task at hand.

“Do you have a tape measure I can borrow?” I asked him.

“Sure. Hang on a sec.” He disappeared back into the house and was back a moment later. He handed over the tape measure and then held the end for me so I could measure the dimensions of the little front yard. As I jotted down the measurements, he stayed silent and watched.

“Okay, here’s what I think would work —” I handed him back the tape measure and proceeded to explain my ideas for the front garden. Then, I moved on to a list of plants. When I finished he grinned at me.

He took the notebook from me and studied the rough sketch. “So, you’re not just another pretty face. You do know your stuff.”

Stay professional. Be confident,
I warned myself. “If you want me to plant the yard then I will need the names of a few nurseries around here, or if you have an account with one of them you’ll need to let me know. I’ll go over and see what they have in stock.”

He nodded, reached out and snagged my hand, “Okay. Now come take a look at the back yard.”

I felt a little tingle when he tugged me along with him in a friendly way, and I had to ask, “Do you always hold hands with your subcontractors?”

“Sure, it gets me a discount.” He quipped back.

That made me laugh and we moved to the back yard which was in much better condition than the front. Here a few old trees provided shade and the grass wasn’t in too bad of shape. Nothing a little mowing and fertilizer wouldn’t cure. He hardly needed my advice here, but he pulled me along to a little deck and sat on the step. He patted the step next to him and since it was quiet and cooler, back in the shade, I sat a step below him. We talked specifics for the planting job for a while, and, I had to admit, I was excited at the prospect of getting my hands in the dirt again.

At least that’s what I told myself. How the family would react to my employer was a whole other story. Before this went any further, I needed to get some answers.

“I would love to take the job, but I’ll be honest — I’m not sure how my family will react to me working with you.” I said.

He scratched his chin. “I take it your aunt has given you an earful about the families’ colorful history?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

He shrugged. “The old family history isn’t of much interest to me. I am more focused on the here and now.”

His practical attitude made me feel a little better. “Still, you must have an opinion on the subject?”

“I’m not defined by my family or their particular magickal traditions. It’s my own actions that matter. I choose my own path.” He said quietly.

The conversation seemed even more otherworldly as we sat in the shade behind the little house. It was quiet, and still, almost expectant. “Duncan, tell me something...”

“Sure.”

I had thought about something Aunt Gwen said. So I asked him. “Do you consider yourself an ethical practitioner?”