A Taste of Magic (14 page)

My kitchen became a kaleidoscope of colors swirling around me as if I were lost in a rainbow. Tingles sped up my arms, through my hands, and then to the bowl. This time, I didn’t wait for the light show to end. I grabbed the fourth bowl, and put it in place.

“Alice, you will find peace in your heart and the greatest love of your life. This is my wish for you.”

I took a deep breath. Tried to refocus. My apartment looked like a disco room; colors zapped everywhere, bouncing off the fixtures, the ceiling, and the walls. So much so, my eyes hurt from the vividness, the brightness of it. Switching bowls, I noticed my arms trembling from the power, from the energy.

“Jon, I can tell you’re confused by something going on in your life. My wish for you is to discover what it is you are unsure of and to take the steps you need to fix it without being afraid but still remaining true to yourself and who you really are.”

I grabbed the last bowl and tried to see past the dizziness enveloping me. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, doing them all at once. My body was overflowing with energy, and I sort of worried I might have a heart attack or something. But I wasn’t able to stop. The magic pulled at me, beckoned me to continue. I breathed in a mouthful of air and allowed my wish to flow through me. I wanted to feel it before I spoke.

Tipping my head back, I watched the colors bop around on the ceiling. “This wish is for me. My wish is to find the path that will lead me to forgiveness, to being able to truly let go of the past, and to find what ever I need to really move on with my life.”

Instantly, the intensity of the swirling colors magnified. A surge of energy ripped through my body with such strength, such power, that I let go of the mixer and stumbled backward.

I closed my eyes and raised my arms as the magic thrashed through me. “I will be happy!” I yelled, lost in the strength of the moment. Wind swept through my hair, making it whip around my face, slashing at my skin. Yep—wind, in my freaking apartment. I kept my eyes closed as the power slowly bled out of my body.

“Excellent, Elizabeth. I’m impressed,” a woman’s voice, the same voice from the previous night, whispered in my ear. Yeah. In my ear. Her breath blew warm on my cheek, I swear. And then, I smelled flowers—everywhere. Opening my eyes, I fully expected to see the owner of this voice (Miranda, possibly?) standing in my kitchen. Only, no one was there. “Hello?”

No response.

Maybe if I closed my eyes again? What the hell, may as well try. “Hello?” I repeated.

No answer, but the scent of roses remained.

Shivers of apprehension tickled my skin.
The Twilight Zone
was back, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I grabbed the phone. I needed to talk to Grandma Verda. Like, right this instant. Or, really, like yesterday. She didn’t tell me Miranda paid personal visits to her granddaughters, something I kind of thought I should have known. I didn’t know for sure if it was my great-great-great grandmother, but that made the most sense.

When I tried calling, Grandma Verda’s machine picked up. With the snowstorm, she was probably at my parents’, but I didn’t want to have this conversation with eavesdroppers in the background. I’d try her again later.

Paying close attention to the labels on the bowls, I poured the batter into the individual mini-cake pans. I sprinkled different toppings on each so I’d be able to tell them apart. This was the simplest way I’d thought of to not mix them up.

I set the timer on the oven and began cleaning the mess up, but all I could think about was Miranda, and if it had truly been her voice I’d heard. I didn’t know what scared me more.

Hmm. A visitor from beyond, or insanity?

Chapter Ten

I handed the box with the cake over to the receptionist at the Brookhaven Sports Club and steadfastly ignored my trembling hands. “He does work today, right?”

The blonde and way-too-perky girl behind the counter said, “Yep, Troy comes in at seven every night for his class. I’ll leave this for him.”

“Great, I appreciate it.” Swiveling on my heel to leave, she halted me.

“Is there a note? You know, so Troy knows who brought it?”

“Oh, um, sure. Could you put, ‘From a secret admirer?’ ” I really hadn’t thought this through.

Her face blanched, and she gestured me forward. When I stood directly in front of her, she leaned over the counter. “Listen, he’s not a great guy. There’s been a lot of complaints against him.” She whisked her gaze to the left and then to the right. “Are you sure you want me to give this to him?”

“What kind of complaints?” I asked without hesitation. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to learn something new about Troy the Creep.

“He’s a womanizer. And there’s even been a few rumors that he’s stolen money from some of his conquests. He’s really not a nice man.”

“Why is he still employed here then?”

“Nothing’s been proven. Besides, he’s friends with the manager.” She picked up the box. “You want this back?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll … um … just be careful. Thanks for the warning, though.”

When she nodded, I escaped to my car. It should have been a breeze dropping off something as simple as a magical cake, but it wasn’t. I’d even phoned before driving over, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t see Troy face-to-face, but I was still nervous. Luck seemed to be on my side.

I hoped it stayed that way. Marc’s office was next on my list, and pretending to be a secret admirer was out of the question. Because his entire office knew me, I couldn’t simply glide in and out. That meant for me to get Marc to eat cake, I’d have to eat crow first. Yech. And sure, with creative thinking, I could probably find another way to get it to him, but my ex was weird about food. A cake appearing anonymously on his desk would never make it to his mouth.

At least I didn’t have time to fret over it, because the sports club and Marc’s office were within a ten-mile radius of each other. Just a short drive, even in the busy noontime traffic. In no time at all, I’d parked the car outside of his office building. I mentally went over what I wanted to accomplish. I didn’t want to get into an argument, and I didn’t want to talk about the bakery. All I needed to do was be nice and get him to eat the cake. With luck, the magic would take care of the rest.

My legs wobbled when my feet hit the ground. Gripping the box, I rode up the elevator and focused on the moment he would come to apologize. If I could keep that thought in place, I’d have a much better chance of getting through the next fifteen minutes or so.

“Hi, Angie,” I said to Marc’s secretary. “Is he in?”

The brunette’s eyes widened when she glanced up from her computer. “Oh, wow. Hi, Elizabeth. I haven’t seen you in forever.” Questions filled the air between us. I didn’t answer them. I was just grateful Tiffany no longer worked there.

“I’m sorry for not calling first, but this won’t take long. Is Marc in?” I asked again.

“Well, he is. Give me a minute. I’ll see if he’s free.” With another curious look at me, she scooted out of her chair, lightly rapped on the door, and then let herself into Marc’s office. Within seconds, she returned with Marc right on her heels.

“Betty? Twice in one week. It must be my lucky day.”

“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked, taking in his appearance. Dark suit, tie loosened, hair mussed—but even with the frazzle, Marc Stevens was a handsome man. Irritation flickered, and I shoved it aside.

His eyes whisked over me with an appreciative gleam. I’d worn a dress he particularly liked. Dark midnight blue, it hugged my curves in all the right areas, swirling out slightly above the knees. The deep color gave my skin a creamy glow, and the neckline was cut just low enough to give a hint of cleavage. It was a dress that left far more to the imagination, but that’s what Marc had always liked. I figured it was smart to go in with every advantage I could.

“Of course. Come on in.”

Following him, I clutched the box tighter. The last time I’d been in this office was about two weeks before our separation. We’d gone out to lunch. Once again, I wanted to go back in time and kick the old me in the ass. Just to wake her up.

I sat down in the chair across from his desk. I was glad when he chose to sit behind his desk instead of in the chair next to me. I didn’t want him to be too close. This was harder than I’d thought, probably because of the vision I’d had the other night.

“I’m really surprised to see you. You were angry with me at the store.”

“I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t prepared to run into you, so, well, I overreacted.”

He tapped his long, manicured fingers on the surface of his desk. Opening a drawer, he removed a small picture frame and flipped it toward me so I could see the photograph. “Do you remember this day?”

It only took a glance to be able to say, “Yes.” The picture was of me. Maybe at sixteen or seventeen. The smile on my young self’s face turned my stomach. “That was taken at one of the school carnivals.”

“You were the most beautiful girl in our school, and I couldn’t believe you wanted to be with me.” He set the frame on the desk and angled it toward him. “You may not believe this, Betty, but I do think of you with fondness.”

Yeah, right. Fondness? Bite me, ya know?

“I didn’t come here to rehash old days. You made your choice, Marc, and whether I agreed with it or not, it’s the life we have now.” I didn’t know what he was doing, but no way did I want to be dragged back through the past in front of him. I did enough of that on my own.

“I thought that’s what you wanted. You didn’t come for closure? Tiffany said … never mind. What is it you want then?”

“Tiffany suggested I needed closure? How nice of her, but no, that’s not why I came. I thought about what you said at Dominick’s. And while I’m not sure we can ever be friends again, I don’t want to be afraid of running into you.”

“What do you have to be afraid of? I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want to talk to you every now and then.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You left me for another woman who is now your wife. How can we be friends after that? You were the one who preached honesty on my birthday. Do you remember that? That’s all I’m doing. Being honest.” Hot anger eased into me. Swallowing, I set it aside. For now.

“I’m really busy this afternoon, Betty. If the purpose of your visit is to tell me how horrible I am, then it’s better if you leave. I put out a hand of friendship and you bit it off. Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again.” Ice edged his words.

I was stunned. No guilt, no nothing, just anger, and somehow, it was all
my
fault. You know, why wouldn’t I want to be friends with the amazing Marc Stevens? I must be crazy.

Not.

“Do you feel any remorse about the way you ended our marriage? Because honestly, from this side of the desk, it appears you don’t. And that is the number one reason why we can’t be friends.” Ouch, I instantly regretted my words. A little too harsh when I was supposed to be playing nice.

His cold eyes narrowed. “What’s there to be sorry about? You know my favorite saying. It’s a dog eat dog world. I found something that made me happier, so I went with it. There is nothing to be sorry about.”

See, told you he was a jerk.

He twisted a piece of paper between his fingers, which meant he was either nervous or angry. My bet was on anger. “Now that you’re here, we should talk about your little bakery that’s losing money hand over foot,” he said in a condescending tone.

Little
bakery? Up until to that point, I’d purposely kept A Taste of Magic out of our conversation, but no way was I going to let that comment slide. “My
little
bakery is doing just fine. Business hasn’t been as brisk this year as we’d like, but we’re not losing money. And if you think I’m going to let you come in and make all sorts of changes, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“You don’t have any choice. Until you pay the loan off, I do have a say in how it’s run. Whether you like it or not.”

“Just because you’re a financial planner doesn’t mean you know how to run a business. It’s much more than dollars and cents.”

He looked at me as if I were an idiot. “It’s all about the bottom line, Betty. How much you spend versus what you profit. And your profits are less this year than they were at the same time last year.”

I forced myself not to argue with him. He was talking to me as if I knew nothing about the basics of business, which pissed me off. Besides, A Taste of Magic was about far more than the bottom line. It was about celebration, making dreams come true, and finding a way to balance that with the logistics of a profitable business.

I reminded myself what the goal of this meeting was. Sitting up straight, and with a calm voice, I said, “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I want to apologize for running off the other night. So why don’t we get back to that?”

“You’re sorry? That’s nice to hear.”

“Here.” I set the bakery box on his desk. “I know how much you like white chocolate and coconut. Consider it a peace offering.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he picked up the box. Flipping the lid off, he peeked inside. “I miss your baking. It was nice of you to do this.”

“It’s not much, but I know you always loved my cakes. Besides, I really do feel bad about my reaction to you the other night.” I squirmed in my chair at the lie. Well, I guess it wasn’t really a lie because I did feel really bad. Just not the way I’d let on.

Yeah, I know I was rationalizing.

“It looks great.”

“Taste it. I made it especially for you,” I said in the sweetest tone possible.

Marc lifted the cake from the box and bit into it. Another bite, and then he replaced it. “I’ll save the rest for later this afternoon.” He brushed crumbs off his jacket. “It’s great,” he repeated.

Pleased I got to watch him eat the cursed thing, I said, “I need to get back to A Taste of Magic. My lunch break is about over.” Besides, I didn’t think I could sit there another minute. Not without taking the cake and smearing it into Marc’s perfect face. While fun, and possibly empowering, it would also be counterproductive.

“I’m quite happy you came by, Betty. It’s the first sign you’re willing to be honest with yourself. I’ll call you soon. Maybe we can do lunch.”

I’m sure my jaw dropped open, because I distinctly remember snapping it back shut. I couldn’t figure out what game he was playing. And, honestly, being in the same room with him raised all sorts of questions and emotions I didn’t want to confront. “I need to go.”

Escorting me to the door, his arms reached out as if he was going to hug me. Not in this lifetime, so I stepped out of his reach. Marc touching me was not a smart idea. I didn’t trust how my body would react, and I wasn’t prepared to find out.

Cocking his head, his mouth pinched tight, he said, “I’ll talk to you soon, Betty.”

“Seriously, Marc, stop with the ‘Betty.’ It’s as if you say it on purpose, just to annoy me.”

“You’re being childish. It’s what I’ve always called you. Anyway, we’ll get together in a week or two. We have business we need to discuss. When you’re a little less emotional.”

I ignored the jab and made my way out of his office. The thought of him issuing commands about my business muddled together with everything else I was feeling. At the moment, though, anger took center stage. I hoped he was right—that we
would
be getting together soon. Because I kind of figured an apology would go a long way to setting me free. Even a magic-induced apology was better than nothing.

As I started my car, I wasn’t sure what would make me happier: an apology or the realization that he’d suffered.

Who was I kidding? The suffering would win—hands down.

Dashing into my apartment, I ran to the phone. For some reason (call me crazy) I really thought a conversation with my grandmother was in order. Of course, she seemed to have a far more active social life than I did, so she probably wasn’t home.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Grandma Verda screeched.

Wincing, I said, “Hey, Grandma. It’s Elizabeth. Are you busy?”

“Busy? I’m eighty-five years old. How busy can I be?” She cackled at her joke, as if it was the funniest one ever told in the world.

I played along and laughed. “You’re busier than I am most of the time.”

“I’m watching Judge Judy, make it quick. She’s laying into a scammer and I don’t want to miss anything when the commercial is over.”

“Is anyone there with you?”

“Just Shirley. Why? You have a thing against cats?”

“No, Shirley is fine. I didn’t want to interrupt you if Vinny was over.”

“Nope. Not now. Dinner later. You want to talk to Vinny?”

“Grandma, no, I just need to ask you something.”

“Well, quit wasting time then. Hurry it along. At my age, you have to talk fast and loud.”