Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells Page 8
Reaching across the table, I tugged the glossy folio toward me and opened the cover. It needed some updating. The first three highlighted events had been done months ago and I now had even more impressive wedding photographs to display. My stomach tightened as I flipped through the laminated pages. Everything was so beautiful, a perfect realization of the visions I’d had in my mind whilst planning the events.
The front door opened and I turned to peek over my shoulder. Harmony came inside, kicked off her kitten heels, dropped her messenger-style bag to the floor, and exhaled.
“Long night?” I asked.
Gingerly, she crossed through the living room, heading for the kitchen. “Party of twenty came in twenty minutes before closing. I wanted to turn them away, but apparently one of them was Marco’s second cousin once removed or something crazy, so he insisted they be seated. We were down a server and then Jess had to leave right at end of shift to pick up her kid, so I needed up filling in as a server and let me tell you, I was not wearing the right shoes for the occasion.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
Harmony shuffled around in the kitchen for a few minutes. The fridge opened and closed half a dozen times, finally followed by the sounds of ice cubes hitting glass and the fizz of soda. Finally, she reappeared in the dining room and plopped into the chair beside mine. She placed a glass of dark soda on the table beside a plated triple-decker sandwich and dug in with gusto.
She scanned the contents of the table as she chewed. “Whash all this shtuff?” she asked around a full mouth.
I narrowed my eyes but didn’t scold her. “The firm packed up my office and I sent a courier to get everything this afternoon.”
“Ooooh.” She cringed and swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
I shrugged. “I’m just glad it didn’t end up in the trash.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” she said, then second guessed it when I gave her a wry look and nodded. “Okay, you’re right. They totally would. Scum bags.”
“Even back when I first started working for the firm, I knew I’d have to climb the ladder, and pay my dues, and I did. Without complaint. I took all the bottom-of-the-barrel jobs with a smile. I gave every client my full attention and effort, no matter how small or casual the affair. And finally … finally … it had paid off. I’d thought I’d had it made. I had my dream job and all those years had been worthwhile after all. And now …” I trailed off, staring at the assortment of memories laying on the table before me.
Harmony placed a hand on my shoulder. “It wasn’t for nothing, Stace.” She gestured at the photographs from the multitude of thank you cards stacked on one side of the table. “Look at all these happy people. You made that! You put those smiles on their faces. They will treasure their special day forever and you made it all happen. No one, not even that shrill harpy, can take that away from you.”
I smiled sadly. “Thanks, Harmony.”
She was right, but it didn’t fully take the sting or shock away.
While I stared at the portfolio, Harmony snaked an arm past me and grabbed the list of rejected business names. I tried to get it back, but she was too quick and held it out of my reach. Her eyes lit up. “You’re really going to do it? Start your own business?”
“I don’t know.” I chewed my lower lip, turning over the idea for the dozenth time. “Maybe?”
“You totally should,” she replied, an enviable decisiveness to her tone. “I’ll bet within a year, maybe two, you’d be giving A Touch of Magic a run for their money.”
I laughed and took the leaf of paper back as she handed it over. “I think that’s a little ambitious.”
“Can you imagine the look on the dragon lady’s face?” Harmony asked with a giggle.
The dragon lady was her title for Kait, bestowed after their first meeting nearly a year ago. Harmony had been at my office the morning after she’d showed up on my doorstep to announce she was homeless and broke, and Kait had come storming in, snarling about something. Thus, a nickname was born.
“It’s tempting,” I admitted, “but I don’t have any concrete steps forward. It’s not like I have a huge nest egg saved up somewhere.”
Harmony’s smile fell away and something wiggled across her expression. Guilt?
“I didn’t mean to imply that’s your fault,” I said quickly. “If anything, I can thank my shoe collection. Even the sale-price pairs were too expensive, in hindsight.”
“Things will turn around, Stace. You won’t have to auction off your shoes.”
I snorted. “Maybe a kidney, instead.”
Harmony rolled her eyes, smiling at me. “And you call me the dramatic one in the family.”
I yawned, stretching my arms overhead. “Stars, what time is it?”
“One-thirty,” Harmony replied, not missing a beat.
“No wonder my bum’s tired. I’ve been in this chair all night.” I scanned the pages before me and scoffed. “Not that I have a ton to show for it.”
Harmony’s phone pinged. A text message. She snapped the phone up with a lightning-quick hand and read the message, her smile growing. Her fingers danced along the screen and the phone whooshed as her reply spiraled off into cyberspace. The giddy grin, however, remained.
I raised an eyebrow. “Who in the Otherworld is texting you at one-thirty in the morning?”
“Oh, uh, no one. Just someone from work.”
“Uh huh.” I quirked my lips to one side. “A male someone, perhaps?”
Harmony laughed and popped up from her chair. “No. I’m too busy to deal with boys right now.” She stuffed the phone in her back pocket, another ping slightly muffled against the fabric of her work pants. “See you tomorrow? We’re still getting drinks with CeeCee, right? Six o clock?”
I nodded, but she was already halfway across the living room, the light from her phone illuminating her smile as she tapped out another reply to her mystery texter.
I don’t know why it mattered who she was communicating with. Her social life was her own and not something I wandered into on a regular basis. But with the real estate flyer and sticky note still fresh in my mind, it nagged at me that she was potentially keeping secrets.
Sighing, I heaved myself up from the chair and stretched before gathering the pages into a neat pile. I’d have to come up with a killer business name tomorrow. My muse had apparently gone to bed hours ago. Smart woman.
Chapter 11
CeeCee had already secured a table and flagged us over as soon as we stepped inside the dimly lit martini bar. It was one of the nicest bars in the Seattle Haven. High-end furnishings, tasteful art, and top-shelf alcohol. My kind of place. I enjoyed a good drink, but I’d never been one for rowdy bars or the spring-break crowd. As Harmony and I wove around the other tables, I couldn’t help but peek at the bar, looking for Guy. Was he working tonight? And if so, should I try and ask him about Evan?
Not that I had any idea how I could drop such a loaded question into a conversation and make it seem like casual interest.
My heart jumped into my throat when Guy appeared from the back room, opening a new bottle of vodka. He said something to a trio of patrons and all four men laughed. Harmony tugged on my elbow and I snapped to attention.
“You good, girl?” CeeCee asked, concern pinching her brow.
I realized she’d been trying to get my attention and quickly slapped on a smile. “Sorry, yeah, I was just spacing out, I guess.”
Harmony eyed me as she hopped up into one of the high-backed chairs. She kicked the other one out for me and I scooted into it. I placed my black clutch on the table and turned my attention to CeeCee. She’d been one of my first calls after quitting my job and had been checking in with me daily since.
“I took the liberty of pre-ordering you each a sour appletini,” she announced, throwing a finger in the air to catch the attention of a bartender.
I twisted in my seat just in time to see Guy zero in on her request. He nodded and went to work making the drinks.
“All right, so catch me up,” CeeCee said, raising her martini glass to her lips.
“There’s not much to catch up on since yesterday,” I told her. “I’m weighing my options. I have two months left on my lease, so I have a little bit of time to play with. Although, if I’m moving, I guess I’d need to give thirty days’ notice.” I bit into my lower lip.
Guy approached, an electric-green martini in each hand. “Ladies,” he said, placing the cocktails before Harmony and me. “I’m under strict orders not to refer to these as pity-tinis, but with that said, I am really sad to hear about your resignation, Ana.”
“Thanks, Guy.” I wrapped my fingers around the stem of my glass, avoiding his eyes. “Something will work out.”
“The whole thing is just crazy,” Guy continued. “And then for that leech, Russel Lauren to sit there and boo-hoo-hoo to the Herald, as if he actually gives a damn. Did you see that? He’s opening some charitable foundation in his so-called best friend’s honor. This thing has got juicy layer upon layer!”
I frowned and looked up at the excitable bartender. “Russel Lauren? Who’s that?”
“You didn’t see?” Guy shot a quick look around the bar and then took a seat at our table. He leaned in and dropped his voice. “Russel Lauren was—emphasis on the past tense—Evan’s business partner and friend.”
“What happened?”
“A few months ago, Russel pitched Evan on some big investment opportunity. He was throwing everything in on this deal. It turned south, their business went bankrupt, and they lost everything. Now, according to the grapevine, Evan’s parents bailed him out and gave him another infusion of cash from his trust, whereas Russel didn’t come from money and didn’t have anyone there to throw him a life raft. Well, anyone besides Evan. When Russel tried to get Evan to start a new venture together, Evan turned him down.”
CeeCee winced. “Ouch.”
“Russel wouldn’t let it go. They ended up in this huge fight, in public, and it was all over the tabloids for about a week. That’s why Russel wasn’t involved in the wedding.”
Satisfied by his torrid tale, Guy leaned back in his chair. “And now, Russel’s setting up this charitable organization in Evan’s name and pretending none of that ever happened.”
“I wonder why,” Harmony said.
“To wiggle his way back into the Stimpton’s good graces,” Guy explained matter-of-factly. “Russel is just trying to get back in the family’s good graces and blaze a new trail to the Stimpton fortune.”
“I read the obituary. I don’t remember seeing anything about this,” I said, shaking my head.
“It wasn’t in the obituary,” Guy explained. “They put it on the next page. A B story, if you will.”
I sipped my martini and considered Guy. “While we’re on the topic of gossip, is it true that you and Evan were classmates in your academy days?”
Guy’s jaw flexed. He maintained his smile, but there was an edge to it when he looked at me. “Yes. Though, I prefer to block all of that from my memory.”
“Then why did you agree to the bartending job? I told you it was Evan’s wedding.”
Guy considered the question, his eyes darkening. “It was a job. A well paying one, at that. And sure, maybe there was a part of me that wanted to show up, handsome and suave, and show off my craft and send the message that I didn’t care about their scorn.”
CeeCee glanced at me, her eyes wide.
“Evan and his friends made my academy experience a nightmare,” Guy continued, his eyes staring at a point past CeeCee’s shoulder. “I knew Charlene and Errol, too. But they left me alone.”
“Errol, as in Clive Errol?” I asked.
Guy nodded. “They were best friends, all through academy. Sometimes people spread rumors that there was more going on between them, but nothing ever came of it as far as I knew. Errol—Clive—is a ferret-shifter. Charlene wasn’t going to go for someone like that. She liked the bad boys. The alpha-holes.”
“Like Evan,” I added quietly.
“Bingo.” Guy shook his head.
Someone at the bar called for Guy and he got to his feet. He placed his palm on the table and flashed a smile. “You ladies let me know when you’re ready for round two.”
With that, he was gone, melting back into the hustle and bustle of tending a busy bar.
The three of us remained quiet for a beat longer, watching him work.
Harmony spoke first. “Stace, you don’t think Guy had anything to do with what happened to Evan, do you?”
“I don’t know,” I replied slowly.
CeeCee cleared her throat, drawing our attention away from the bar. “Enough of all that talk,” she said, lifting her glass. “I propose a toast. To you, Ana. To your future success and, perhaps more importantly, for finally telling Hyacinth she can shove it where the sun don’t shine!”
Harmony giggled and hurried to raise her own glass. “I’ll drink to that!”
A smile tugged at my lips and I joined the toast. “May it one day be a glorious memory and not at all panic-inducing.”
We all laughed, clinked glasses, and drank.
“What does Caleb think? CeeCee asked. “Is he proud of you, too?”
“He thinks I should open my own wedding planning business.”
“You should!” CeeCee agreed.
“It sounds like a good idea, right up to the part where I have to move out of my condo, sleep on the Shimmer Bus, and shower at the gym.”
“Why not move into Caleb’s place?” CeeCee asked.
I choked on my martini and sputtered to clear my airway.
Harmony snickered into her own cocktail glass. “Guess that answers that question.”
CeeCee patted me on the back as I caught my breath. “Sorry,” she said, wincing. “Wasn’t trying to kill you, there.”
I took a drink of water and shook my head. “I’m fine. You just … surprised me.”
She frowned. “Is it really that crazy of an idea? Things are going well, he has a big apartment, a stable job. What’s the hang up?”
“Well, for starters, Peaches would probably shred his couches just to remind him she’s not granted her seal of approval,” Harmony pointed out, still grinning. “And secondly, Stace has trust issues.”
I scowled at my sister. “I do not!”
“Mhmm.” she hummed, sipping from a tiny pink straw.
Ignoring her, I looked at CeeCee. “I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen. Longer than that, if you count the years we lived with our mother. She wasn’t exactly the motherly type. As in, she’d go out one night with friends, meet some small-time musician, and end up chasing his tour bus all along the west coast for a week or two.”
The amusement faded from Harmony’s face. She idolized our mother, despite the gaping holes in her parenting skills—and arguably the place her common sense should reside. Anytime I pointed these things out, she took a defensive position.
“I’m just saying, I ended up doing the grocery shopping, cleaning, getting you to and from school,” I told her gently. The last thing I needed was drama with my sister, not on top of everything else. Shifting my attention back to CeeCee, I pivoted. “I like Caleb, a lot. But we’re not there yet. That’s all.”
A skeptical voice echoed in the back of my head, reminding me that I more than liked Caleb. I drowned it out with another long sip of my sour apple cocktail.
Harmony perked, staring at the door. Expecting to see some devastatingly handsome wizard or shimmer, I turned-on my stool, my heart jumping when instead, I found Caleb striding into the bar. He wore his SPA jacket and approached the bar with a surly expression that made it clear he wasn’t there for an old-fashioned.
“Guy Hansen?”
Guy looked around, his eyes wide, then timidly raised one hand, fingers pointed. “That’s me.”
Caleb zeroed in on him like a shark and cut through
the bar. He held out a paper to face Guy. “This is a warrant for your arrest.”
Chapter 12
“What?!” Guy boomed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bar that had gone pin-drop silent.
Caleb gave a nod at the agent on his right, who I recognized as Meryl Miller, a former SPA-warden turned agent. She rounded the bar and instructed Guy to put his hands behind his back.
“You’re being charged with the murder of Evan Stimpton,” Caleb said as Meryl spelled a pair of magical cuffs to Guy’s wrists.
“I had nothing to do with that!” Guy protested, looking around at the faces dotting the opposite side of the bar, most of whom were regular customers, based off my own visits there. None of them said anything as Meryl marched Guy around the bar and toward the doors. He continued to protest, but no one tried to intercept the agent.
“We have a warrant to search the premises,” Caleb announced to the crowd of stunned patrons. “If everyone can leave their drinks and file out nice and orderly, the SPA will pick up any open tabs.”
That won the favor of the crowd and everyone got to their feet, a few people even stopped to clap Caleb on the back, thanking him for the drink, as they filed out of the bar. Of course, most of them slammed back the free drinks in front of them before they did.