No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series) (7 page)

“
Your grandmother had to send it in when she applied for you to take over.”

“
There’s an application process?” My mouth hung open. What I wouldn’t do to get my hands on that file.

He nodded. “You look just like your grandmother, by the way, minus the gray hair, of course. Your hair is beautiful, though. Did your grandmother have dark hair like you?”

“
Why don’t you look it up in your file?” I placed my hands on my hips.

“
The antlers are a nice touch.” He smiled cheekily.

“
It was Christmas and Grandma Imelda thought they were cute,” I retorted.

“
I’m sure Santa would approve.” He flipped through the file pages again.

“
What does the file say about me?” I demanded.

“
Other than this little snafu, not much yet, and I’m hoping it’ll remain that way.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“
I didn’t mean to mess up the magic, it was a slip up.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

I couldn’t tell him it wasn’t actually my mistake. I mean, technically, I guess I was responsible for the magic until it reached its rightful recipient. It would be mean of me to rat Mary Jane out. No, I’d take whatever punishment I was handed. It was time to put on my big girl panties.

“
So what happens now?” I asked.

He shifted on the stool as he hesitated with the answer. “It’s been recommended that your café be closed until we can determine this won’t happen again.”

A paralyzing anxiety smacked me in the stomach. “Closed? As in, not open? But I just took over. There has to be something else. My grandmother ran this place for thirty years, I have it for two days, and it’s shut down? I can’t do that to her. Isn’t there something I can do to make this up to...to whoever is in charge at whatever the name of the place is you work for?” I took a glass from under the counter, filled it with water, and took a big gulp. I wiped my forehead with a dishtowel.

“
I’ll make some calls and see what I can do.” His tone softened a bit.

Finally, a sign of compassion appeared on his face in the form of a half-smile. A small dimple appeared as if by magic on his right cheek. He certainly was good-looking, no denying that. But a good-looking stranger ready to close my café, nonetheless. If he thought a handsome face would stop me from running this place, he had another think coming.

“
Can you please explain what happened? Slowly. I want to hear your account of the event.” Tom leaned forward, propping his arms on the counter, waiting for a play-by-play of my stupidity.

Mary Jane still stood behind me, her breath hot on my neck.

“
I made the food for Oscar Harrisburg. He’d had some problems with a woman.” I fidgeted my fingers against the counter.

“
Uh-huh, that’s right,” Mary Jane chimed in.

“
Ah, it’s always the women.” Tom smirked.

I scowled and placed my hands on my hips. “It’s not always the women.”

“
Yeah,” Mary Jane said.

He held up his hands. “Okay, sorry, I can see I’m outnumbered here. Go on, please.”

“
Thank you. Now where was I? Oh yeah, I accidentally placed the food down on the wrong table.” I cast a glance in Mary Jane’s direction. She had a huge frown spread across her face as she studied her shoes. “It was an honest mistake.”

“
You didn’t remember that the spell was intended for someone else. The food had magic specifically for that person. You can’t give out magic meant for someone else,” he scolded.

“
I’m aware of that...now. I only learned about this stuff a couple days ago, can’t you give me some slack?”

“
You’re right, you’re right.” He nodded. “We should cut you some slack. We should speak with your Grandmother Imelda and ask her why she left a novice in charge of something that is obviously out of her control.” He gave a
sardonic
lift
of his brow
.

“
No! I can’t let Grandma Imelda get in trouble for this.” What kind of trouble she may get into, I had no idea. Did they have a jail for magical mess-ups?

“
What would be her punishment?” I licked my lips. My mouth had become as dry as if I’d eaten an entire package of saltines.

“
For starters, she’d never be able to perform magic again.”

“
Well, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. Fate should be in control, and I wasn’t so sure we should be messing with fate.”

“
We make the fate, gorgeous. That’s why fate is fate. And you would lose the café for good. We’d close it down.”

“
Close the café?” I gripped the counter.

What would I do then? I wouldn’t have anything else. Food was going to be my life from now on. Sure it had only been a few days, but I’d already become attached.

“
I’ll let you know what I find out tomorrow. Until then, maybe you should close the café early for the evening?” Tom observed me, searching my eyes.

“
Okay, yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.” Good idea for him, but I didn’t like the sound of it.

He finished off his coffee and placed the mug back on the counter.

I didn’t ask if he wanted a refill. No need to encourage him to stay longer than he had to.

“
I’ll do all I can, but I can’t make any promises.” He touched my arm.

“
Of course not.” I shook my head.

“
Oh, and one more thing, they want me to watch you for a while, report back with my findings, they’ll make a decision based on that. I’ll be overseeing the café, you know, to make sure you don’t have any more goof-ups.”

Oh, great, a magical babysitter. “So you’ll be following my every move?” I exhaled through pursed lips.

“
Not every move.” The tense little lines around his mouth disappeared as his lips twitched into a smile.

“
I don’t like the sound of this.”

“
Well, the only other alternative is to close the café, which one would you prefer?”

I took a deep breath. “To have you follow me.”

I knew when I’d been defeated. I had to get rid of this guy as quickly as possible, even if he was sexy and mysterious. What would my grandma say? I couldn’t believe this was happening. Just a short time ago, everything had seemed so normal, now nothing made sense.

“
I need to get back to the kitchen. Customers will be after me with pitchforks soon if I don’t make their food. Are you going to follow me there, too?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid, yes. I need to see what you’re doing.”

What I was doing wrong, he meant. How could I perform magic with him watching? It’s like trying to tinkle when you know someone’s listening, it just won’t happen. It was bad enough when I tried cooking with Mary Jane or grandma watching. Tom followed on my heels as I passed through the door and into the kitchen. My magical escort. He smelled like mango with a touch of leather.

When I passed Mary Jane, she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

As well she should be. If it wasn’t for her gossiping, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But I couldn’t dwell on it. I’d make the best of the situation and move on from this nightmare. She’d taken a couple of orders for pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Easy enough. I’d noticed the customers were Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, Grandma Imelda’s neighbors. I’d known them since I was a little girl.

Mr. Stevens had a bad case of arthritis, so I’d do a spell to help him with the pain. I wished the magic could take away the pain permanently, but apparently it didn’t work that way. Grandma Imelda would have taken away every ailment in Mystic Hollow if it did. I’d do a spell for Mrs. Stevens’ garden. She had beautiful roses and they made her feel good, a cathartic affect. Making the colors on her rosebushes a little brighter would put a smile on her face regardless of whether she needed it or not. I had to admit, uplifting people’s spirits sure gave me a good feeling. So the magic wasn’t all bad, though I suppose that could be considered selfish on my part.

Tom studied the kitchen, writing notes on his clipboard. This was worse than the health inspector. I grabbed eggs from the refrigerator and a stainless steel bowl. After cracking open a few against the bowl, I reached for a whisk. I selected my spices and sprinkled them on top of the liquid. Yes, I had no idea what I was doing. I leafed through the
Mystic Magic
book until I found what I thought would work best.

“
You’re pretty good with that whisk.” Tom leaned over my shoulder, watching my every move.

Chapter Ten

“
So this is how it’s going to be, huh?” I felt his breath against my neck.

“
Please, do continue. Pretend I’m not even here.”

I snorted. “Yeah, sure thing.”

Within seconds, the kitchen door swung open and Mary Jane hurried over, allowing the door to swing back and forth wildly. She panted and clutched her chest.

“
My gosh, Mary Jane, what the heck? Are you all right?” I asked.

“
I need you out front,” she said between pants.

“
Do you need a drink of water? Can you breathe?”

“
No, no water. I’m fine.” She waved off my concern.

Mary Jane leaned down, attempting to catch her breath. “Just come help me with something, okay?” She gestured with her hand.

“
Okay, calm down, it can’t be that bad.” Or could it? Maybe the dining room was full of Magical Investigators, as if they were multiplying like bunnies.

“
Excuse me for a second,” I gestured for one minute with my index finger.

Tom frowned and a tiny crease formed between his brows. I didn’t wait for him to complain.

Mary Jane went first and I followed close behind. When she stopped in front of me, I stumbled through the door, tripping over my feet and landing on the floor again. I needed some non-skid shoes or something. This was the craziest few days I’d ever experienced, and I’d had crazy ones when I moved to New York City. But nothing compared to my day o’ magic at
Mystic Café
.

A lady, round as she was tall, with very blonde hair tied up high in a bun, watched me. Her bright red lipstick bled into the wrinkles around her mouth. Her fingernails coordinated with the lip color. She shook her head in disapproval at our antics and scolded us with a wave of her crimson fingernail.

A couple of old ladies sat in the corner. Both had the same fine, gray pouffed-up hairstyle and ghostly white skin.
These women must have been eight hundred years old, if they were a day.
Their slender frames made them appear as if fragile dolls, but the scowls on their faces made them look more like pit bulls. One wore a light blue pantsuit, while the other sported a peach sweatshirt and beige polyester pants. They stared, beginning at my toes and finally stopping at my hair. One whispered to the other, their gazes glued to me all the while. I watched them as I picked myself up. Hadn’t they seen a girl fall flat on her face before?

A bit dazed from my collision with the floor, I gave a halfhearted smile and glanced over my shoulder at the blue-hairs perched in the corner. They stared back.

“
Don’t pay attention to those old hens. They never get any excitement in their lives.” Mary Jane grabbed my arm.

“
Oh. That would explain it then.” I nodded and turned for another look. Their gaze didn’t falter. I waved and they jerked their attention away.

“
So sorry, please continue with your meals. I’m fine,” I said to my audience. As if they cared whether I was hurt or not. The old ladies started up their surveillance again.

They raised their snooty brows and whispered.

“
Oh, miss, can I get some more butter?” the one in the peach asked.

“
I need more coffee,” her BFF demanded.

Mary Jane tugged on my arm again. “I’ll tend to them, you tend to him.” She pointed at the door, then straightened her shirt and smoothed down her hair. “Fix your hair.”

Chapter Eleven