“What’s so wrong with pretending? You can’t even do that.”
Math wasn’t about fantasy and pretending. Math was about practicality and absolute truths. Just like construction. You couldn’t pretend to put a header in or your wall would only pretend to stand up. “Because that’s not how life works, Kaley-did.”
“I hate that nickname.”
“You didn’t used to.”
Kaley went quiet, and her plate remained untouched. She stared at him with strange intent. Then her dark brown eyes narrowed down to slits. “Your aura is really ugly.”
He’d had enough. “So is your attitude. If you’re not going to eat, then you can clean up. I have work to do before I drive you to school.” Because the sooner he could get this house in shape, the sooner he could sell it and they could get out of this weird town and back to North Carolina. Back to where life was normal and the only one pretending to be something they weren’t was Agnes Houston, the drama professor, who had never played opposite Brando, no matter how much she claimed she had.
Kaley jumped up from the table and grabbed her backpack. “You don’t need to drive me, I’m walking.” She stormed out of the room.
For the second time that morning, his front door slammed shut.
He sat right where he was, watching the ripples on the surface of his coffee until it went smooth again.
Kaley had been so excited about Pandora coming over. Now he had two women mad at him. And he deduced that the only way to make Kaley stop being mad at him would require Pandora no longer being mad at him also.
He drank the last of his now cold coffee and jogged upstairs to his bedroom. There on his dresser was the thing he needed.
Pandora’s business card.
Clearing out the front rooms would have to wait a little bit longer. Cole had some groveling to do.
“I’m telling you, Mom, she’s a witch.” Pandora cradled the phone between her head and shoulder while she brought up the MLS (aka Multi List System) to update a few of her listings. “She can read auras pretty spot-on.”
“How old did you say she is?” Corette asked.
“Thirteen.”
“That’s the right age. Poor dear. Does she have a mentor?”
“No. And she’s going to need one.”
Corette sighed. “That’s for sure. And the father doesn’t believe?”
“Nope. Total normie.”
Corette tsked. “And him living in Gertrude’s house. She’s not going to like that.”
Pandora squinted. “You know she’s dead, right?”
“I know, dear, but there’s always a possibility that a witch with that much life in her might not be entirely gone.”
Pandora laughed. “Oh, that would serve him right.”
“Now, Pandy, we shouldn’t wish ill will on anyone. That’s not our way.”
“I know. But he was such a…butthead.”
“Very mature response, darling.”
“Hey, you want to have lunch today? I could call Marigold, have her meet us too.” Pandora’s youngest sister ran the flower shop in town.
“I can’t. I already have a lunch date.”
“Stanhill?”
“Yes.” The honeyed tone of Corette’s answer spoke volumes. For the last four years, Pandora’s mother had dated Hugh Ellingham’s rook, a position that was basically like Batman’s Alfred. Stanhill was universally adored by Pandora and her sisters. Didn’t hurt that he and Corette were well suited and deeply in love.
“All right. Well, keep your hands on the table.” Pandora giggled. “We don’t want people to talk.”
“Pandora.” Corette mock-scolded. In the background, Pandora could hear the chimes that sounded when her mother’s shop door opened. “One of my brides just came in for a fitting. I have to go.”
Corette’s shop, Ever After, was the go-to destination for all things bridal and formal in town. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Corette hung up.
Pandora set the phone down. The irony that her mother ran a bridal boutique and yet all three of her daughters were still single was not lost on Pandora. Someday, she might make good use of her mother’s shop.
And someday Pumpkin might lose weight.
Maybe she’d call Willa, see if she wanted to do lunch. Pandora could even pick it up and take it over to the jewelry store. They did that at least once a month. Willa’s back room had heard more Nocturne Falls gossip than Birdie Caruthers, the sheriff’s nosy aunt and receptionist. Okay, maybe not more than Birdie. But close.
The bells above Pandora’s office’s front door jangled, and she looked up. Right into the face of Mr. Doubter McDoubty Pants. She leaned back in her chair. “Thought of an insult you forgot to hurl at me?”
Cole frowned. Which sadly, did nothing to make him ugly. “I didn’t hurl insults at you.”
Pandora tipped her hand back and forth. “Let’s call that a draw.”
He stopped in front of her desk. “I came to apologize, actually. I’m sorry about breakfast. That’s not how I planned for it to go.”
“That’s good to hear. How did you plan for it to go?”
His mouth crumpled into an uneven line before he answered. “I don’t know. But not like that.”
“Do you plan everything?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”