Trouble's Brewing (Stirring Up Trouble) (8 page)

“Let me know if and when to assist,” Dr. Finnegan said, standing close like a spotter for a tumbler.

“I will. I think I got it,” I said. I held the can just above the line of the mixture in the cauldron. Then I popped the top and peeled it back, carefully to submerge the can slightly as the sound of the “meow” escaped the can. A loud meow would mean too much had escaped. This one had been okay. Not my best, but acceptable. The two that followed went in as easily.

I had turned to share a smile with Dr. Finnegan when I felt the brief sensation of fur against my skin and turned back. Then I saw Jasmine on the counter by the stove. She was in motion, rapidly approaching the cauldron.

“Oh my,” Dr. Finnegan said. “The cat’s meow must have—”

I grabbed the cat with both hands and turned, swinging her around to keep her from ruining the potion. I didn’t realize I was going to impact Dr. Finnegan until I saw him duck as I swung her over him.

I ran to the back door, opened it with my elbow, and tossed her outside.

Jasmine was not happy.

I shut the door, and bracing myself, turned to see what damage I had done to my tutor.

Dr. Finnegan stood by the stove, an expression of disbelief on his face.

His laughter started deep in his chest and rumbled up and out into the room. I laughed so hard that I had to gasp for air.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. Gasp. “I nearly killed you.” Gasp.

Dr. Finnegan had nearly been sliced to bits by Jasmine’s claws. Yet he’d doubled over laughing.

Mom’s form appeared in the doorway to the living room. She opened her mouth and then closed it.

The confused, slightly fearful look in her eyes struck me as fiercely comical, and I pointed at her as my laughter gained steam.

Dr. Finnegan saw Mom and collapsed into a second fit.

Mom stood taking us in, and she smiled. “Clearly the session is going well.”

Our laughter wound down, only moments before totally incapacitating us, and Dr. Finnegan finally answered her.

“If I hadn’t made this selfish decision,” he said, motioning to his younger body, “you’d have a bloody, feeble ninety-five-year-old man teetering around your kitchen on weak legs right about now.”

“Your reflexes were impressive,” I said. “You ducked before I knew what I was doing.” A couple more giggles escaped.

When we finally explained the situation to my mother, she shook her head. “We didn’t even think about Jasmine’s reaction to the cat’s meow. She’s never done it before.”

“I’ve never used three in a row before either,” I said.

My mother eyed the discarded cans on the counter. “Can you continue with the potion? Or has it been sitting too long?”

“It’s fine,” Dr. Finnegan and I said in unison.

“I’ll let you get back to it then,” she said.

Even though I hadn’t expected my first try to yield any positive results, I found myself disappointed when the mixture burned up rather than changing colors and reducing. A girl could hope.

“Sorry it wasn’t more exciting to watch,” I told Dr. Finnegan.

“I found your process intriguing, Zoe. Experimentation is about trying, not all about succeeding.”

True.

“Besides, I suspect that I’d have broken a few ribs laughing that hard in my old body. It’s nice to have the reminder of the positives from my selfish move. And you know what they say about laughter?”

“It’s the best medicine?”

“Indeed.”

We cleaned up the mess, neutralized the pots, and poured the radiation potion into the jar.

“You must have known you’d be performing acrobatics today,” I said, motioning toward his running shoes and shorts.

“I do apologize for my informal dress. I need to go shopping later today for some appropriate cold weather wear. Jeans, I suppose.”

“You have to buy a whole winter wardrobe? You are so lucky.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” he grumbled. “When I purchased the clothing for warm weather, I ended up following a group of teens around the store and grabbing everything that they looked at.” He signed. “Unless they laughed. If they picked it up and laughed, I left it be.”

“Good call,” I said.

Finn chuckled. “I guess you love to shop.”

“Not exactly. At least, nowhere near as much as my mother does.”

“I despise the entire endeavor. Shopping is another reminder of the gravity of my error and of my inadequate adaptation to my new form.”

I interpreted that as “Life’s a bitch and shopping sucks.” An idea hit me like a truckload of frogs. Mom could help. “Hang on a second,” I said. Then I slipped off the stool and ran for the dining room.

Mom looked up from her work as I skidded to a stop. “What’s the crisis?”

“No crisis,” I said in a rush. “It’s just that Dr. Finnegan needs to go shopping for a winter wardrobe this afternoon, and he doesn’t seem real confident about it.”

My mother leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’m in.”

“He didn’t exactly ask for help, so he might take some convincing.”

Pushing back from the table, she stood. “I got this,” she said.

Mom led the way to the kitchen. “Zoe tells me you’ve got some shopping to do,” Mom said to Finn.

“I do indeed,” he said as he finished zipping his backpack.

“I can help if you’d like,” she said. “It’s actually one of my favorite hobbies, and you have done so much for us by helping Zoe.”

“On a professional level, I certainly feel that I should refuse your offer. However, facing the reality of a shopping spree on my own, I find myself…” He stopped and shook his head. “Yes, please.”

When my mother got home five hours later, she was squarely in the afterglow of a shopping binge. I, on the other hand, was fighting the frustration of a full afternoon of failure. Zero progress. I’d added varying amounts of the chalkboard chalk and tried different combinations of eggs to no avail. I’d gotten annoyed with my hair falling in my face and sweaty from the humidity of constantly boiling pots as I tried to harden the chalk to the right consistency. I’d finally put my hair up in a ponytail holder as high on my head as I could get it, and I knew from experience that my hair had taken on a grotesque appearance which could land me the lead role in any B-grade horror movie. Finally I’d cleaned up and taken a notebook to the couch to brainstorm. The brain activity was minimal.

“Ewww,” she said before she could stop herself. “I see that you had a rough day.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Right.” Her eyes kept shifting from my face to my hair. “Then we won’t.”

“Did you find Dr. Finnegan some clothes?”

“We had the best time. He listened to my advice. It was so refreshing to take a man and dress him from top to bottom. Your father never let me shop for him, and we both know he had the worst taste in clothes. Not that shopping with Finn was anything like shopping for a real adult. Finn is an adult, of course, but dressing him is more like dressing a young person.” She sat down on the couch next to me and propped her designer shoe-clad feet on the coffee table. “Honestly, it was like dressing a male model. Everything fit him to perfection. If you could have seen him in that bomber jacket and those Levi’s.” Then she sighed, like she was sighing about a hot guy.

“Mom! Seriously? Are you drooling over Dr. Finnegan?” My gag reflex was on red alert.

Mom reached out to grab my arm. “Oh, no! Zoe, no! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It was just an admiration of true beauty. That’s all. Like when a room comes together perfectly. Or like you in your dress from Homecoming. Perfection. I’m speaking with an artist’s eye, not with a creepy perv eye. I promise.”

Mom’s horror almost had me convinced. Even I had noticed that Finn had a nice form in a totally objective kind of way.

“The problem was that while the clothes fit fine, Finn’s personality doesn’t work with many of the styles we tried. The boy, er, man is so tense and uptight. The dressier and fussier the clothes were, the more he liked them. He’s lucky you intervened and got my help.”

“Good. I’m glad you helped.”

Mom’s expression turned serious. “Zoe, I feel sorry for Finn. He doesn’t know anybody here except us. He must be lonely.”

“I doubt it. He probably spends all his time working on potions, Mom. He’s devoted his life to potions. Why would he be unhappy now?”

“He’s used to a large estate, and now he’s in a tiny apartment. He must have had interaction with friends and colleagues at his home. Except during the time his skin was rotting from his punishment.”

I held up my hand. “I don’t think he would want us to dwell on that.”

“I know you, Zoe. I know you really don’t want me to talk about the putrid smell and make you nauseated.”

My stomach reacted long before she got to the word nauseated. “Please, Mom.”

“I think he’s lonely,” she said.

“Maybe he is.”

“I’d try to introduce him to people, but who? We don’t have a lot of witches in town, and I don’t want them to interfere with your studies or make him the victim of their gossip. I’d try to find some normal people with whom he has common interests, but I haven’t managed a single idea. Someone his age? He’s in his nineties and looks nineteen. I thought about trying to find a nice female genius for him to spend time with, but what age? Ninety-five? Surely not. College-age? Doubtful. Should I divide the ninety-five plus twenty and go with fifty-seven? The looks they would get! I think perhaps a forty to forty-five would be the best fit, but again, the cougar stigma. He doesn’t need to draw attention.”

“Mom, you’re forty-five.”

“Exactly. I think my age is a combination of health and energy as well as enough wisdom and maturity to make it work.”

“Mom! You don’t mean you, do you?”

“Of course not! That’s not what I meant at all.”

I should have pushed harder for Dave, her hottie producer. I’d caught them kissing in Jake’s kitchen a few weeks ago. I hadn’t liked the idea at all, but at least he wasn’t my tutor. Plus he was thirty and looked thirty. Mom didn’t have feelings for Dave. I hoped she didn’t have feelings for Finn. A forty-five-year-old woman and a nineteen-year-old guy? They’d probably get more than dirty looks. They’d probably get rotten tomatoes and hate mail.

“Zoe, trust me. I wouldn’t go there. He’s your tutor! He looks as young as you. And since I know he’s actually an elderly man, I have to admit the whole idea gives me the heebie jeebies.”

Thank God.

“Are you going to shower soon?” she asked. “No offense, but you kind of smell like eggs and cat.”

Cat! “Jazzy! I forgot about her. Did you see her when you came in?”

“No,” Mom said. “I’ll go call her. She may not be on speaking terms with you right now.”

“Very funny.”

“Not kidding,” Mom said over her shoulder as she walked toward the kitchen and the back door.

Chapter Six

“Guess what,” Milo said on the phone later. My only close magic friend, Milo was my sounding board. He didn’t live here, and I was lucky to see him a few times a year. I had been thrilled when he visited at Halloween, and his family had been invaluable in dealing with the events that night.

“What?”

“We’re coming for Thanksgiving!”

“No way! For sure?” I shut down my laptop and left my desk to sit on my comfy bed.

“It’s a done deal. My parents confirmed this afternoon. They got somebody to cover the shelter and the food pantry.”

“We are going to have so much fun! When are you coming up?”

“Not til Wednesday.”

“And how long are you staying?”

“Until Sunday morning.”

“This is going to be so great!”

“I know. We’re lucky my parents want to meet Dr. Finnegan as much as I do.”

“We are going to have the best Thanksgiving ever!”

“Uh, Zoe, your friend Anya isn’t going to be around this time is she? I don’t know how long I can hold her at bay. Four days of dodging her might be more than I can take.”

He probably should wear his running shoes because I couldn’t control Anya. She’d practically stalked him at Halloween. “Well, you do have some competition this time. She’s got a crush on this senior, and I told you about her stalking Dr. Finnegan.”

“Yeah, that’s just weird.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said. There was no way to convey the gorgeous specimen that was Finn. Milo was going to have to see for himself.

“What about Jake? Is he adjusting to your tutor?”

“Yeah.” I had shared Jake’s jealousy with Milo.

“How long have you been dating him anyway? A month?”

“Longer.” A few days longer, but whatever. “Anyway how’s Darlene?”

“She’s fine.”

“What’s she doing for Thanksgiving?”

“She’s going to her grandmother’s in Boca Raton.”

“Too bad you couldn’t bring her as an anti-Anya shield.”

“Wouldn’t work anyway. She’d interfere with our time with Dr. Finnegan.”

“True. And our Milo and Zoe time. You can help me with my unicorn horn substitution!”

“Your what?”

“I’m going to find a substitution for unicorn horn.”

Milo didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, he scolded, “Zoe, you just found the toad slime substitution, and you have Dr. Finnegan, the Dr. Finnegan, as a tutor.”

“Right. So?”

“Do you know how lucky you are? Maybe you should chill with the research for a while and enjoy life.”

“Experimentation is how I enjoy life, Milo.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be the only way you have fun.”

What was he trying to say? Why shouldn’t I be pursuing another substitution? “I have fun,” I protested. “Why do you think I don’t have fun?”

“It sounds a little strange for you to start another project right when you have your first boyfriend ever and the undivided attention of the most famous and accomplished potions master of all time.”

When he put it that way… it did sound weird. “I have plenty of time for all three, plus Dr. Finnegan wants to learn more about my approach.”

“If you say so, Zoe. I barely have time for school, volunteering at the food bank, and Darlene. It’s almost Thanksgiving, then I have two papers due, and before I get caught up on everything, I’ll have exams.”