Spells and Scones (12 page)

“That sounds like a lot of work for a small station like that.”

She nodded. “From what I understand, once everything is in place, it's not too hard to maintain. But when they started out, they needed more staff and a pile of money.”

“The third investor?”

Our eyes met briefly before Jaida looked back at the road.

“Heinrich Dawes,” I guessed. It made sense. Dawes Corp. was a venture capital firm. Investing was what he did.

“Bing didn't mention a name,” she said. “But it would explain why he was leaving the station. He might be out a lot of money.”

“I wonder if Steve would know,” I mused. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to call him.

“But his father said they weren't speaking.”

Steve, who had a column in the
Savannah Morning News
, had begun working for Dawes Corp. soon after he'd joined the Dragoh clan.

“How could they not be speaking?” I made a face. “Something weird is going on there.”

Jaida was quiet for a few beats. Then: “Does Declan know Steve's back in town?”

I shrugged. “I didn't mention it. He says he's okay with our friendship. I wish it were true. After all, it's been . . . oh, my God.”

“What is it?”

“I'm an idiot.”

She laughed. “How so?”

“I was wondering why Deck came in this morning and made such a big deal about supper tonight.
I totally forgot that tomorrow is our one-year anniversary.
And he's on shift starting tomorrow morning, so we're celebrating
tonight
.”

“Oh, man,” Jaida said. “You are in trouble.”

I buried my face in my hands. “He's making some special menu, and who knows what else, and I didn't get him anything at all.”

“Yep. Trouble.”

The minivan hit a bump, and I looked up to see she'd pulled into the Dairy Queen.

“Ice cream time,” she sang.

“I don't want any.” My mind was still scrambling for what I could get Declan on such short notice.

“It's not for you,” she said.

Yip!

While the dogs slurped their vanilla cones, I told Jaida about talking to Phoebe.

“Dr. Dana fired her literary agent right before she was killed? That's an interesting coincidence. Was it someone local?”

“No idea. She was pretty upset, and I didn't want to ask for more details.”

“Of course not. Maybe Quinn would know.”

“Not that he'd care,” I grumbled. “Maybe Croft can help.” Then I told her about the tarot book and candles.

“Wait—was the book about tarot reading or tarot spells?”

“It was called
Tarot Spells
,” I said, “so I assume the latter.”

“How many candles?”

“I didn't count them.”

“More than five?”

“Definitely.”

“More than ten?”

“I think so.”

“Could there be thirteen?”

“Maybe. Why?”

She sat back with a bemused expression. “Well, I'll be darned.”

“What?”

“Thirteen red candles are used in a classic tarot love spell, along with the Lovers card and the significator cards on either side.”

I knew from what she'd taught me over the last year that a significator card was simply one that the spell caster felt best represented a person—the Empress as a powerful female figure, for example, or the Hierophant as a teacher. Sometimes it was a card that represented the best version of a person, and sometimes it was more realistic.

She looked rueful. “Maybe that whole thing about Radical Trust wasn't working so well for Dr. Dana after all.”

*   *   *

Jaida dropped me off in front of the Honeybee, saying she had to get back to the office. I knew darn well it was because she didn't want to have to tell Ben she'd succumbed to Bing Hawkins' sales skills. My uncle waved from the reading area, where a mix of mothers and
fathers and their children clustered around the big coffee table, which was covered with a thick layer of newspaper. It looked like they were making turkeys out of paper cups with the bottoms cut out, pom-poms, googly eyes, brightly colored craft paper for feathers—and plenty of glue. Iris was with them, too, bent over her own craft project so that I could see only her flamingo pink ponytail sprouting from the top of her head. I returned my uncle's wave and veered toward the kitchen.

Lucy had just taken a pan of cranberry coconut cookies out of the oven, and they smelled heavenly. I grabbed one and asked, “What's going on out there?”

“It's a homeschooling group. They were going to meet at Croft's, but then the parents heard what happened.”

I made a face. “That's too bad. But at least he's open.”

She nodded. “Things will get back to normal soon. Did you find out anything interesting?”

I motioned her into the office and closed the door. “A few things—though I don't know how interesting they are.” I ticked off the high points on my fingers. “
The
Dr. Dana Show
was the lifeblood of the radio station, and they might be in real trouble without it. Heinrich Dawes may or may not have been a primary investor in the syndication of the show. Dana fired her agent right before she died.” I tapped my pinkie. “And if Dr. Dana wasn't a witch, she at least dabbled in tarot magic. Jaida says it might have been love magic.”

Lucy whistled. “No kidding. That's kind of sad, really. Considering that her whole reputation was built on relationship advice. Still, it's another possible magical connection to the murder.”

And one Detective Quinn would just call “woo-woo nonsense” and ignore.

I nodded. “And on a completely unrelated note, I have to leave again. Just for a little bit.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I'm so sorry, but tomorrow is Declan's and my anniversary. That's what tonight's supper is all about. I'm sure of it.”

“Oh, honey! I didn't realize! Congratulations!”

“Lucy, I'm such a lame girlfriend,” I wailed softly. “I totally forgot. At the very least I have to go get a card. Say,” I said with sudden hope, “I don't suppose you have any clever ideas about what I could get him in the next”—I looked at my watch—“three hours?”

“Gosh, Katie. I'll think about it. But I'm sure if you don't get him a gift, he'll understand.”

I wasn't so sure.

She made a shooing gesture with both hands. “Go get that card. Cardiologie will have something, and it's just down the street.”

“It looks pretty busy out there with all the kids. I'll hurry!” I winced. “And I told him I'd grab something for dessert. I'd better come up with something impressive.”

“Don't be silly. Iris and Ben can stop playing with paste and come help me if we get a rush, and I can whip up a flourless chocolate torte while you're gone. That should be a match for any fancy dishes he has planned.”

“Thanks, Lucy. You're a lifesaver.” I gave her a quick hug.

Mungo and I left through the back door, so we could check out the alley in the daylight. The big Dumpster the potential burglar had shoved at me that morning looked just as huge, but utterly harmless in the sunshine. The patch of pavement where it had tipped toward me
looked a little scuffed, but not as scuffed as my knee. The memory of the power that had rushed through me when I'd pushed it away made my skin goose-bump.

Mungo wanted down, so I leashed him for our short walk. We headed west down the alley, then cut through to Broughton at the next cross street. As we strode down the busy sidewalk, I racked my brain for what I could get Declan.

A gift card to his favorite restaurant?
Lame.
Clothes?
Jewelry?
Watch?
Lame, lame, and he always wore his late father's timepiece. It needed to be something romantic for the first anniversary. Something special. I felt panic arrow through me, but instead of the adrenaline sparking a great idea, my mind went utterly, stupidly blank.

Think!

Experiences were good gifts, right? Often far better than stuff.
A hot-air balloon ride?
I shuddered. Heights were not my cup of tea, and it wouldn't be very romantic to send him up alone. He'd mentioned taking our relationship to the next level a few times lately, casually saying it would be less expensive to combine households, especially since we already spent most of our off-hours together. But I hadn't even gotten around to making the trip to Boston to meet his mother and sisters yet—another thing he'd been trying to get me to do . . .

I came to a dead stop. “Mungo! I've got it. I know exactly what to get Declan! And all I have to do is write it in the card.”

A passing couple stared at me standing smack-dab in the middle of the sidewalk and talking to my dog. I offered a feeble smile and started walking again. In front of the card shop, I looped my familiar's leash
around a light standard so he could spend a little more time outside, and went in. He could easily get loose, but I knew he wouldn't take off.

Unless Angie Kissel was to walk by.

I pushed the uncharitable thought out of my mind as I pushed the door open. A clerk greeted me as I wound through the displays of gag gifts, candles, bath products, toys, and decor items to the card racks.

There were so many cards to choose from: funny, serious, romantic, silly, flowery, and sappy poetic ones. None were quite right. Finally, I went to the blank cards and found one that spoke to my heart. It was a black-and-white close-up photo of clasped hands, a man's and a woman's, from behind.

“Katie?”

My heart stuttered as I turned to find Steve Dawes standing right behind me. Blond hair flopped over his forehead, and the tan I'd noticed the day before was even richer than I'd realized. His dark green T-shirt accented a few more muscles than I remembered him having.

His lips curved into a smile. “Of course it's you.” He eyed the card in my hand.

Annoyed as well as relieved, I said, “I saw you driving by yesterday morning. Nice car.”

“It's good to see you.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Where the heck have you been for the last three months? You didn't answer my texts, and I e-mailed, and . . . and . . .” I trailed off. “Why are you smiling like that?”

His teeth flashed. “And here I was afraid you'd be mad at me.”

“I am!”

“But still worried. So you still care about me.”

“I'm not
worried
. Just . . . curious. Plus, I saw your father earlier today, and he said you two aren't speaking. Does he even know you're back in town?”

He looked around to see if anyone had heard me. We were the only customers.

“Ah, Father. Yes, well. Listen, I saw Mungo outside, so I assume you're on foot. Are you heading back to the Honeybee?”

“So if you saw Mungo, what was with the ‘Katie, is that you?'” I shook my head. “Yes, I'm walking. And I need to get back.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

Now that I knew he was okay, I wanted to strangle him. “Suit yourself.”

I bought the card from the friendly clerk and went out to untie Mungo. We started down the street in the direction of the Honeybee.

Steve hurried to catch up. “I saw in the
Savannah Morning News
that someone was killed in the Fox and Hound Saturday night.”

“Dr. Dana Dobbs.”

“You were there, of course.”

I looked at him sideways.

“Don't bother denying it. I'm back working at the
News
, doing my column again and working part-time on the crime beat, as well.”

“Were you the one who called Croft for an interview?”

He shook his head. “That wasn't me.”

“But that's the sort of thing you're doing now.”

“Yes.”

My steps slowed. “What about Dawes Corp.?”

We walked in silence for a few moments. “I quit.”

I stopped short. “Just . . . quit?”

“The last three months I've been living in the Bahamas and working on a charter fishing boat.”

That explained how tan and fit he was.
The Bahamas. Sheesh.
I couldn't believe I'd been concerned. We started walking again.

“I needed time to think after what happened with Samantha.”

I grimaced, remembering the fiasco with the woman he'd been dating in August.

He cleared his throat. “And I came to a conclusion, Katie.”

Something about his tone made me look over at him again.

“When you chose Declan over me, I tried to let it go. To let you go. But after what happened with Sam, it became obvious that there's simply no one else for me.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Steve. We've talked about this—”

He barreled on. “I truly believe we're supposed to be together, Katie. I know you and Declan have been together for a year.”

Darn it—even Steve remembered that.

“But the truth is, if I can't have you, I won't have anyone.”

At our feet, Mungo made a low, growling noise. He'd never liked Steve as much as he liked Declan.

“Now, come on,” I said, feeling a little desperate. “Stop being so dramatic. You'll find someone.”

He shrugged. “I don't want anyone else. I love you.”

Ack!

“Which means I want you to be happy, more than anything. If that means you stay with Declan, then so be it. But I thought you should know how I feel.”

“Steve,” I tried again.

“And I think you should also know that I understand why you turned away from me in the first place. So I've not only quit working for Father, but I resigned my membership in the Dragohs.”

I stopped and gaped at him.

“I know you disapprove of how we—those—druids conduct their business in Savannah. At least now I'm not one of them.”

I realized my mouth was still hanging open and snapped it shut. “Is that why you and Heinrich aren't speaking?”

He nodded. “In fact, I'm pretty sure he's going to disown me. I moved out of the guesthouse on my parents' estate and rented a basement apartment in Midtown. I've cut all those ties.”

For me?
The thought made me feel sick with guilt. Good heavens—he was
pining
for me. But I truly loved Declan. Sure, there had been a
zing
of energy between Steve and me since the first time I'd seen him sitting across the Honeybee, and Lord knew he'd been a good friend to me. But that wasn't anything like what I had with Declan.
I have to fix this somehow.
Steve was giving up an enormous fortune and familial ties to the community . . .

No. Wait.

Is that my fault?

I'd given him no encouragement after I'd started dating Declan. I hadn't asked him to go to the Bahamas or to give up anything for me. I'd only saved him from what would have been a truly horrible marriage—and I'd done it as a friend.

We reached the Honeybee, and as we stopped in front I found myself growing angry. He had no right to
pressure me like that. If he wanted to give up everything, then that was his business.

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” I said, slowly. “And while I don't think you're deliberately trying to manipulate me, it still kind of feels like it.” I held up the bag I'd been carrying. “This is the anniversary card I got for Declan. And there are going to be more of them.”