No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series) (12 page)

“
This is a legal matter,” he said.

My eyebrows rose and I wiped my hands on my pants. “You’ll have to speak to my lawyer. I told Ray I wasn’t talking to him about this anymore.”

I wondered if this wasn’t about magic and really had to do with that snake, Ray Russell. No way was he getting the Mustang back. I’d burn it first. Well, maybe not burn it, but still….

Ray had persuaded me to accept his engagement ring with his smooth talk. Thank goodness I hadn’t followed through with it. Why had I let him talk me into moving in, anyway?
I’d given up my dreams to be with that slimeball. What can I say? I was young and in love—and stupid. I had no way of knowing I was making such a big mistake. My grandma knew, though. And my mother, my best friend, cousins… They tried to warn me when I’d first met him, but when you’re twenty-one years old, all the answers seem to be at your fingertips. I knew it all. At twenty-eight, I realized I knew nothing. But deep down,
I’d never pictured a future with him. Not a real future, nothing past six months. I’d always lived day by day.

Things had a way of working out for the best sometimes, though. If I’d married Ray, I would never have gotten the café. Grandma Imelda never had liked him and she’d probably never have given me the café if he was still around. A small price to pay, I guess. After all, I had loved him—I’d been blinded by love.
I wondered what Ray would say if he knew I was the owner of this place now. He’d probably want to be involved in some way. Over my dead body.

The man scrunched his brows together and placed his briefcase on the counter. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He popped the lock on the old leather tote and pulled out a card. “I’m with the National Organization of Magic.”

So, my original hunch had been correct. Was the situation really that serious? Why was he here?

The man’s wide brown eyes gave me the once-over. “I’m lookin’ for Elly Blair. Is this her?” He glowered at Tom and pointed at me.

I frowned and waved my hand halfheartedly. “Yes, it’s me.”

“
I’m here to talk about the magic.” His lip twitched.

I’d assumed as much.

I swallowed hard. My mouth turned dry. “All right. Please have a seat anywhere you like.”

He seemed so formal I wanted to ask if I really needed an attorney. I didn’t actually have one, but they didn’t know that.

“
Mr. Owenton has briefed me on the situation. I understand what has happened to the poor man in question.”

Poor man? He had women following him everywhere he went. Did they realize how many men would pay big bucks to be in that exact situation? Sure, it sucked, but it wasn’t as if I’d turned him into a toad or a donkey. There were worse fates.

“
My name’s Bart Wibble.” He shifted the ratty leather briefcase clutched in his right hand to his left and stuck out his hand toward me. I reached over the counter and grasped it. His palm was as sweaty as his head.

I eyed him up and down. “You’ve come to look into
my
magic, I assume?” With Grandma Imelda’s perfect track record, I realized how lame of a question that was. Of course it was my magic in question.

“
Yes, young lady, I have. This is a serious situation.”

He knew my name, why didn’t he use it? It was as if my father was scolding me.

Tom avoided my glare. Did he call Mr. Wibble here?

“
You called in backup?” I whispered in Tom’s direction.

Tom glanced at me, but remained tight-lipped.

Mr. Wibble pulled a stack of papers out of his briefcase. One flew across the floor. Mary Jane reached down and grabbed it. She’d been straining her neck to hear what he was saying from the moment he walked in the door. I should have just told her to come on over before she did permanent nerve damage.

“
And? How bad is it?” I asked. Did I really want him to answer?

Mary Jane handed him the paper, but she didn’t back away. She lingered nearby.

“
I can’t answer that just yet, not without a full investigation, but I can tell you it doesn’t look good.” He stepped closer to the counter, his shoes squeaking as they moved across the hardwood. “Do you want to go somewhere else to talk, or is this good right here?”

“
Well, um, we can speak here, if that’s all right with you?” No way was I waiting to hear what he had to say. Mary Jane would drill me for the details anyway.

I paused, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t say a word as he looked down at his shoes. How long could he keep up the silence? Was he trying to kill me with anticipation? After a few seconds, he cleared his throat.

Awkward silence again. Was he praying while looking at his shoes? Was it a moment of silence for my soon-to-be closed café?

“
It’s fairly straightforward, Ms. Blair. You have to right this wrong.” Mr. Wibble cleared his throat and continued, “Or we’ll close the café for good.”

Tom had said the same thing earlier, but I thought he had been exaggerating. Mr. Wibble appeared to be dead serious. I glanced at Mary Jane and practically saw the little wheels spinning in her head. She lived for gossip and big events such as these. It didn’t matter if it was someone getting good news or bad news, as long as there was news.

“
Your face looks green.” Mary Jane placed a hand on my arm.

“
Are you okay? I didn’t mean to shock you.” He leaned closer to the counter, meeting my gaze.

“
I’m fine. I don’t need y’all fawning over me.” I waved a dismissive hand and grabbed the towel next to me, then wiped my forehead. “Please, do go on.” I took the glass of water Mary Jane handed me and gulped half of it. They watched me as if they’d never seen anyone almost pass out before.

Chapter Nineteen

After another few seconds, Mr. Wibble studied one of his papers, then stuffed it back into his briefcase.
“Like I said, unless you correct this little snafu, we’ll be forced to close the café.”

“
But I have tried to reverse the spell.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Well, I made a pie. He hasn’t eaten it yet.”

“
Secretly,” Tom said and looked at Mr. Wibble. “She didn’t know I was aware of what she was up to.” He smirked as if proud of himself.

Mr. Wibble frowned and I swallowed hard. “That’s the problem,” he said. “There’s more to it than that. Yes, you must reverse the magic spell, which is more complicated, but first you need to get to the root of the problem.”

I quirked a brow. “What does that mean exactly?”

He pulled the paper out again and adjusted his glasses. “This woman…Kim?” He glanced up for confirmation. “She needs to understand why she’s here, and Mr. Covington….” He studied the papers again. “He needs to understand his feelings for her.”

“
So I need to play matchmaker?”

Mary Jane coughed from somewhere behind me.

“
If need be, yes.” He nodded.

There was no way I could put the two of them together. “I can’t do that.”

Tom placed a hand on my arm.

“
Then shall we put the closed sign in the window now?” He gestured over his shoulder.

“
No, no. I’ll do it.” I knew when I’d been defeated. “But I have no idea where to even start.” I fidgeted, not quite sure what to do with my hands. How would I even begin this process? A ripple of panic rose in my throat at the thought.

“
Obviously, you’ll need to talk with the victims.” Mr. Wibble pushed his eyeglasses up on the bridge of his nose and stared at me, waiting for a response.

Victims. I loved his choice of words, as if I didn’t feel bad enough already.

When I didn’t answer, he dropped the next bomb on me. “You have forty-eight hours to correct this problem.”

“
What?” A pain rippled through my chest. “I have a time limit? There are movie marathons that last longer than that. This isn’t some game show. People’s lives are at stake.”

“
Exactly.” He frowned. “That’s why time is of the essence.”

“
How can I work under such pressure?” I asked.

“
You should have thought of that before you were so careless with your magic.”

Yeah, stupid me. “Look, in my defense, I wasn’t exactly trained very well.”

“
This is the way it’s done. Most people don’t have a problem with it.” He waved his hands as if to tell me he’d heard enough.

I continued, ignoring his gesture. “But some do? I’m not the only one who’s failed miserably?”

“
No.” He shook his head. “No, you’re not the only one. But it doesn’t happen often.”

“
Well, that’s good to know.” Maybe I could start a club for magical miserable failures. I’d be president.

He stood, attempting to brush the wrinkles out of his jacket. “I should get going and let you get back to work. I have a case involving
mistaken identity
waiting for me a few towns over.” He glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the dessert case. “I hear you make a delicious pie. No offense, but it’ll be hard to beat your grandmother’s.” He licked his lips and patted his belly.

Had he been here before? Tom had said they’d never had any problems with Mystic Café until now. It probably wasn’t unheard of for magical folks to visit other magical folks. Mr. Wibble had probably visited the café for grandma’s wonderful food.

“
Would you like a slice to take with you?” Was pie a sufficient form of bribery? The answer to that question was probably no.

“
Oh, well.” He smiled, an expression I didn’t think his face was capable of making. “If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“
No, no trouble at all.” Maybe if I gave him the whole pastry display, he’d drop this entire issue. Somehow, I knew not to even ask.

“
The blackberry looks good.” He pointed at the glass case.

“
Excellent choice. It’s my favorite.” I reached for a container and plastic wrap, then covered up a slice of blackberry and placed the package in a bag.

He clutched the pie in his chubby hands. “I’ll be back in forty-eight hours. Remember, I’ll close the café if the spell isn’t reversed by then.”

Yeah, I’d heard him the first time, loud and clear.

“
Just like her grandmother,” Mr. Wibble muttered as he shuffled toward the door.

Tom frowned. “I’m very sorry. I hope you don’t blame me for this. He’s my boss, I couldn’t keep him away.”

“
You’re just doing your job. I know it’s not your fault.” I placed the pie dish back into the display case. “What did he mean, I’m just like my grandmother?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. Mr. Wibble’s a bit eccentric.”

“
I see that.”

Tom squeezed my hand, his warm fingers tightened around mine. “Looks like you have some work to do.”

I massaged my temples. “I know, but with taking care of the café, when will I have time to talk with Rory and Kim?” If I didn’t talk with them, though, it wouldn’t matter if I took care of the café or not. I let out a deep breath, but it did nothing to relieve the tension building up inside me.

We watched as Mr. Wibble drudged through the door and around the corner with the pie in one hand and his ratty old briefcase in the other. Who knew they had a whole legal system for magic? Then again, who knew they had magic? Certainly not me.

“
All of this is crazy, you know. I didn’t know anything like this existed, and now I have to navigate the magical world?”

“
You’re a smart woman, Elly. If anyone can figure it out, you can.” He winked.

Tom offering encouragement? I barely knew him, but this seemed out of character. An aura of cockiness followed him everywhere he went, and this behavior didn’t fit that categorization.

Visions of Grandma Imelda’s sweet face popped into my mind and I knew I had to make an attempt to straighten this mess out. Giving up wasn’t an option.

I began devising a plan. “I guess first thing, I need to talk with Kim, she’ll be the hardest. She’s positive that fate has brought her back to Rory, and I need to convince her fate doesn’t want her here.”

Fate or me, maybe it was both. What if Rory had no idea what he really felt? I was almost afraid to find out. What if I got an answer I didn’t want to hear? That he loved Kim and always would.

“
You have to start somewhere. And I think you’re right, Kim will be the hardest. And on that note, since I’m allowed free reign of the café, I think I’ll help myself to a slice of pie.”

“
I never said free reign,” I yelled as he walked away. He didn’t respond and I watched him saunter toward the dessert case. His backside looked good. Not that I was staring or anything. Keeping these magic people fed was going to cost me a small fortune.

Business had slowed down and I’d just taken a moment to catch a breather when the phone rang.

“
Mystic Café, how may I help you?” I propped the phone between my ear and my chin as I sorted through receipts.

“
Elly, dear, it’s your grandmother. How’s my favorite café owner doing?” I dropped the receipts as if they were a ton of bricks.

“
Grandma, what are you doing?” I glanced around as if she was there, hiding and watching me from a distance. She and my mother had always used that ‘I’ve got eyes in the back of my head’ line. Heck, for all I knew she had a baby monitor set up to scrutinize my every move.