Wild & Hexy (2 page)

‘‘So if we’re not going to find Dee-Dee a mate,’’ Ambrose said, ‘‘what are we going to do about her?’’

‘‘I’m not sure yet.’’ Dorcas tapped her glowing pen against her lips. ‘‘She needs more study.’’

Ambrose’s scowl had returned. ‘‘Next time, I’m going with you, and I’m bringing my staff. Did you even take your wand along?’’

‘‘I went unarmed, to gain her trust. And you may
not
come with me next time. This is delicate. Something only a woman would understand.’’

‘‘Then can I go?’’ Maggie looked as if she could barely contain herself. She obviously loved being an insider, the only Big Knob resident who knew that Dorcas was a witch and Ambrose a wizard. Even Maggie’s husband, Sean, didn’t know, although he’d been their first nonmagical client. Sean thought they were relationship counselors.

‘‘Maybe you can go,’’ Dorcas said. ‘‘But let’s wait a bit. I wouldn’t want Dee-Dee to think I’m gossiping about her secrets. She’s vulnerable right now.’’

Ambrose rolled his eyes. ‘‘Nothing that weighs two tons is vulnerable, Dorcas.’’

‘‘That’s what you think. Okay, what else do we have this morning, gang?’’

‘‘I have something.’’ Maggie reached into her briefcase, pulled out a folder and shoved it across the desk toward Dorcas. ‘‘You both know Jeremy Dunstan. He’s a good friend of Sean’s.’’ Maggie’s eyes sparkled whenever she spoke of her husband.

As Dorcas thought of the match she and Ambrose had orchestrated between Maggie and Sean, she reminded herself that being sentenced to dragon duty hadn’t been all bad. The Grand High Wizard’s decree had lost some of its sting now that she and Ambrose were using their matchmaking skills on the good citizens of Big Knob.

‘‘Of course I know Jeremy,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘I was just in his Internet café yesterday, surfing the Web.’’

Dorcas wasn’t surprised. The Internet was Ambrose’s new fixation. He’d recently created a MySpace page for himself. ‘‘Does Jeremy want our help?’’ she asked Maggie.

‘‘Of course he wouldn’t want it,’’ Maggie said. ‘‘But he needs it. I’m sure we can figure out a way to help him without his knowledge.’’

Intrigue. Dorcas relished it. Smiling at Maggie, she opened the folder and found a neatly typed prospectus for a new matchmaking scheme between Jeremy and Annie Winston, sister of Melody. Melody was getting married next weekend with Annie as maid of honor and Jeremy as best man. Nice setup.

Dorcas flipped through the contents of the folder. It was a common story. Back in school, shy Jeremy had lost out to the football hero, but now Annie and the football hero were divorced. ‘‘Jeremy still loves her?’’ Dorcas asked.

‘‘That’s what Sean says.’’ Maggie ran a hand through her short red curls. ‘‘I wormed the story out of him this weekend.’’

Dorcas continued to read. ‘‘Annie was voted Miss Dairy Queen the summer before her senior year. What’s that all about?’’

‘‘It’s Big Knob’s annual Dairy Festival that takes place next month,’’ Maggie said. ‘‘It’s the highlight of June around here, and according to Sean, being elected queen is a huge deal. I’m sure Jeremy was intimidated by that, too.’’

Dorcas looked at Ambrose. His anger over the Dee-Dee incident seemed to have subsided. Although Dorcas ran the Monday morning staff meetings, Ambrose kept track of appointments, so he would know if they had time for this project.

She closed the folder. ‘‘What do you think, Ambrose? Can we fit Jeremy into the schedule?’’

Her husband reached for the appointment book sitting beside his chair and thumbed through it. Because matchmaking wasn’t a full-time job in a town with only 948 residents, and because it usually involved unsuspecting clients, they’d decided never to charge for it. To stay busy and bring in a little extra cash, they’d taken on some marriage counseling, as well.

He glanced up. ‘‘We can make the time providing you lay off this Dee-Dee situation for now.’’

Dorcas recognized blackmail when she heard it. But
for now
was a vague term, and she could work around it. She scratched behind Sabrina’s ears. ‘‘Okay.’’

‘‘Then I guess we’re in business,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Jeremy and Annie will be our next matchmaking clients. When does Annie arrive in town?’’

‘‘Today.’’

Ambrose closed the appointment book and stood. ‘‘Then we’ll have to work fast.’’

"Suck it in." Melody tugged on the back zipper of Annie’s peach-colored matron-of-honor dress.

‘‘I used the measurements from when I made your wedding dress,’’ their mother said, sounding anxious. ‘‘But I must have transposed some numbers.’’

‘‘It’s not your mistake, Mom.’’ Annie was too mortified to admit that she was twenty pounds past those old measurements. She’d planned to lose the weight before the wedding. Then Melody had moved up the date by six months.

But, fat or skinny, Annie looked hellacious in peach, which might be why Melody had chosen it, the little snot. The bridesmaids would be in pale blue, but Melody had saddled Annie with a contrasting color, a color that made her skin look sallow and her blond hair brassy.

Annie held her breath, closed her eyes and prayed the damned zipper would close.

‘‘Got it!’’

When Annie opened her eyes, Melody and her mother stood looking at her. They were in identical poses, hands on hips, gazes scanning the dress. Neither of them seemed pleased.

That made three of them. Annie could imagine the picture she presented stuffed into this tight dress—like a shrimp ready for the barbie.

‘‘Too much cleavage,’’ her mother said.

‘‘My thoughts, exactly. Maybe a brooch.’’ Melody walked over and tried to drag the edges of the neckline closer together.

Annie stepped back. ‘‘I wouldn’t do that if I were—’’ The sound of popping seams said it all.

‘‘Oh, dear.’’ Her mother hurried over and touched the splitting side seams, as if she could work some healing magic by a laying on of hands. ‘‘Faulty thread. I must have used faulty thread and I just didn’t notice.’’

‘‘The problem’s me.’’ Annie couldn’t bear to have her mother take the rap for this. ‘‘I’ve gained a little weight.’’ Thumbscrews wouldn’t get her to admit how much, though.

‘‘And it looks good on you,’’ her mother said with characteristic loyalty. ‘‘You were always too thin. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the dress.’’

‘‘Yeah, Mom can fix it,’’ Melody said. ‘‘She’s a genius when it comes to letting things out. She fixed Sharon Fugate’s prom dress so nobody could tell Sharon had gained thirty pounds.’’

‘‘I haven’t gained thirty pounds.’’ Actually, she had, but she’d shaved off ten in the past three months. She’d counted on having more time to unload the rest.

‘‘My mistake.’’ Melody was clearly loving this.

Annie longed to grab her sister around the neck and give her a knuckle rub like the ones they used to inflict on each other in the old days. But she couldn’t blame Melody for enjoying this moment.

Everything had come so easily for Annie. She’d been an honor student and an athlete, the school softball team’s best pitcher in Big Knob’s history and a whiz at her SATs. No one had been surprised when Annie had collected the coveted title of Miss Dairy Queen, a scholarship to Northwestern, a wedding ring from Zach Anderson, and an on-camera job at WGN News in Chicago.

A little sister who’d struggled in Annie’s shadow for years could be forgiven for gloating now that Annie’s lucky star had lost its glitter. The divorce from Zach had been humiliating, followed by the loss of her glamour job at WGN. Unfortunately she’d discovered that in a pinch, food could take the place of love and fame.

Now she looked less like the Dairy Queen and more like the Dairy Cow. It wasn’t Melody’s fault. The peach dress, however,
was
Melody’s fault. Melody just hadn’t realized it would be overkill.

‘‘Let’s get that dress off and let me work on it.’’ Annie’s mother unzipped the dress with much less effort, now that the seams had given way.

‘‘I’m thinking a lace shawl, to cover your cleavage,’’ Melody said.

‘‘I’m thinking duct tape, to cover your mouth.’’ Annie couldn’t help it. She was trying to be charitable, but she had only so much patience, especially because she’d been starving herself ever since Melody’s phone call four days ago announcing the new and exceedingly imminent wedding date.

Melody’s chin lifted like it used to do when she was five. ‘‘It’s
my
wedding!’’

‘‘It’s
my
cleavage!’’

‘‘Girls, girls.’’ Annie’s mother bundled the dress up and took it over to her sewing table. ‘‘You’re too old for this kind of nonsense.’’

‘‘And too busy.’’ Annie reached for her clothes. ‘‘I have to get going.’’

‘‘Where to?’’ Her mother spoke around a mouthful of pins.

‘‘That new Internet café of Jeremy’s.’’ Pulling on her black slacks (slimming) and buttoning her cream-colored blouse (flattering), she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her trench coat.

The trench coat had been a silly purchase, now that she thought back on it. But after she’d left WGN, the reporting job at the
Chicago Tribune
had been a welcome lifeline, a way to salvage her pride. In celebration, she’d bought what she considered the ultimate journalistic badge, a black trench coat. Besides, it helped cover the added weight.

Fortunately, Big Knob’s May weather was still cool enough to justify wearing the coat. Annie wondered how Melody would feel about having her matron of honor walk down the aisle with it on. The trench coat would look a hell of a lot better than that peach number.

‘‘Do you have to go right now?’’ Melody said. ‘‘Georgia and Carol are coming over to help me with the favors. We could use an extra pair of hands.’’

‘‘I’ll help when I get back.’’ Annie grabbed her purse and started for the door. ‘‘The first installment of my Life in a Small Town series is due in an hour. Thank God Jeremy has high-speed access in that café he opened a couple of months ago.’’

‘‘Just don’t miss dinner,’’ her mother said. ‘‘I made apple pie.’’

Annie knew that. She’d smelled it baking the minute she’d arrived this afternoon and figured the pie was in her honor. Joy Winston was famous for two things: her seamstress skills and her apple pies. Her talent with a needle had kept the family afloat after Ralph Winston had died from an undiagnosed heart condition when the girls were six and four.

Ralph had been an insurance agent who’d sold plenty of car and home policies but had never believed in life insurance, not even for himself. His financially strapped widow had sold the agency and opened the Knob Bobbin Sewing and Fabric Shop. After sewing had become a job instead of a hobby, she’d used her baking to relax after work.

That apple pie cooling on the kitchen counter would taste like ambrosia, and Annie didn’t dare eat a single mouthful. ‘‘I’ll be home for dinner,’’ she said. ‘‘But I’m not really all that hungry these days, so don’t expect me to eat much.’’

Melody rounded her eyes at Annie. She wasn’t fooled, not for a minute. She knew Annie was dieting like crazy.

Annie’s mother glanced up and took the pins from her mouth, always a signal that she had something important to say. ‘‘You’re beautiful just as you are. I never liked how you had to worry about your weight because you were on camera all the time. Plus Zach was too obsessed with your weight. You look better this way. Healthier.’’

‘‘Thanks, Mom.’’ Annie smiled at her and wished, just a little bit, that she could come back home to live in her mother’s nonjudgmental circle of love. Six months ago, when she was going through the divorce, phone conversations with her mom had been her lifeline. But she was a big girl—a little too big at the moment—and she couldn’t come running to Mommy, who would feed her apple pie and insist she wasn’t fat, just healthy. ‘‘See you guys later.’’

Word traveled fast in Big Knob, so Jeremy knew that Annie had arrived at her mother’s house at approximately one forty-five this afternoon. Although outwardly he seemed calm as he dealt with customers at the Click-or-Treat Café, internally he was wrecked, wondering how soon he and Annie would run into each other. In a town this size, it wouldn’t take long.

As he moved through the café late in the afternoon, the crowd was mostly teenagers doing homework. Normally he got a kick out of their wacky brand of humor, but today he was too distracted to appreciate it.

‘‘Hey, dude, you keep crashing into poor Megabyte. ’’ Seventeen-year-old Tony Gambino looked up from his keyboard. ‘‘Good thing that dog has a forgiving nature or you’d be missing a leg by now.’’

‘‘Yeah. Sorry, Meg.’’ Jeremy leaned down to scratch behind the Irish wolfhound’s ears. Stumbling over Megabyte was easy to do considering the space she took up as she sprawled on the floor, but normally Jeremy was more careful.

Not today. Annie was in town. Originally the wedding had been scheduled for October, months away. Jeremy had counted on having time to get himself mentally prepared. But plans had changed.

Until last week, the groom had worked in Evansville, which was only a short commute. Then his company had abruptly transferred him to Waikiki, which made for a slightly longer commute. Melody and Bruce had decided to bump up the wedding to this weekend so they could begin their life together in Hawaii.

Jeremy couldn’t be happier for both of them, except that now his reunion with Annie, a woman he still had hot dreams about ten years after they’d graduated, was suddenly upon him. No official wedding festivities including him and Annie would take place until the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on Friday night, but he’d see her before then, guaranteed.

The possibilities were endless. They could accidentally meet in the Hob Knob Diner during lunch, or at the Big Knobian Bar at happy hour, or while strolling around the town square window-shopping. No, wait. He never window-shopped. But they could bump into each other buying Bradley’s famous chicken salad at the deli. Then again, Jeremy might take his kayak out on Deep Lake at the very moment she went there to watch the sunset.