Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (17 page)

Tom
Cat rubbed against her legs and then jumped up into her lap.

She
reached down and gave his stiff fur a few strokes. “Nana Mary was right all
along.” She explained to the cat. “This changes everything.”

Tom
Cat didn’t seem to care all that much for the magic display. He looked at her
again and licked his lips as if to tell her it was getting past his usual
dinner time.

“I’ve
got some cans of tuna in the pantry.” She explained. “They’ll have to work for
tonight.”

He
meowed back his approval and jumped back down to the floor. He stopped at the
water dish and gave the liquid a test with his front paw before lapping some up
with his little pink tongue.

Vivienne
walked over the pantry and located the can of yellow fin tuna packed in water.
“Don’t get too used to this, by the way. This is a one-time only special meal.”
As she opened the can and scraped the flakes onto a saucer, she was glad she
didn’t read that spell at this particular moment. Having to wrestle a giant
tuna in her kitchen would be difficult to explain to the neighbors to say the
least.

Not
wanting to set a bad example by being late, Vivienne went just a few miles over
the speed limit as she drove across town toward Meier Lane. The setting sun had
managed to break through the clouds and illuminate the sky in one of those
red/orange colors that no tree could ever hope to match. The nights were
arriving earlier and soon it would be dark before most people even sat down for
dinner.

She
turned onto Main Street and found traffic had slowed to a crawl as she neared
the county courthouse and city hall. From her viewpoint behind the wheel, she
could make out all sorts of flowers and cards lining the sidewalk to the city
facilities. Flocks of onlookers gathered here and there, some holding small
candles in memoriam to Mona Clarke. As the funeral services were closed to the
public, the public had in turn created its own way to pay respects. The
outpouring of sympathy was somewhat surprising, given the controversy she had
caused at the historic commission meeting, but in the end Vivienne knew the
hearts of most folk in Cayuga Cove were good and they rarely spoke ill of the
dead.

As
traffic began to clear, she spied Victoria Clemens holding the arm of Mayor
Richard Clarke as they walked together and read some of the messages left on
condolence cards.

 
Richard looked tired and much older than
usual, Vivienne thought as she drove past. He was clearly overtaken with grief
at the sudden loss of his wife and seemed to be relying on Victoria to keep
things in as much order as possible during the grieving process.

Her
eyes drifted to the
grimoire
on the front seat. She
didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt protective of it and didn’t dare leave
it at home. If it did contain such power, surely it could prove a deadly weapon
in the wrong hands.

A
squeal of tires snapped her attention back to the road where a silver van
pulled out forcing Vivienne to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. The
driver shouted something in an angry voice at the crowd of mourners. Vivienne’s
headlights reflected off the red lettering along the side of the van. She could
clearly make out Suzette Powell’s
The
Formal Affair
catering logo. The van revved its engine and sped off as
Vivienne double checked for any further traffic before continuing on her way.

The
smell of the macaroni and cheese filled the air inside the car, and her stomach
gave a little growl in response. As she turned onto Meier Lane she had to pay
close attention to the house numbers in order to get her bearings. It was one
of the streets she wasn’t at all familiar with. Unlike the other areas in
Cayuga Cove, most of the homes in this area were built in the late sixties and
early seventies. There were many ranch and split-level style homes, along with
some duplexes that served as rentals due to the lack of any fancy apartment
complexes that larger cities had in spades.

Easily
enough, she found the green duplex at 604 and pulled her vehicle along the curb
to park. She turned off the car and tucked the
grimoire
into her large purse along with the keys. With the casserole in hand, she
walked up to Joshua’s door and kept having to fight a persistent breeze to keep
the aluminum foil from leaping off the top of the casserole dish.

The
front door opened and Joshua welcomed her with a big smile and a warm hug.
Dressed in a pair of comfortably worn jeans and a red flannel shirt that
allowed wisps of his dark chest hair to peek out from the top two buttons which
were left undone, his casual look matched hers perfectly. “Let me help you with
that.” He took the casserole dish from her grip and guided her into his home.

She
stepped into the small foyer and was pleased to smell the faint warm scent of
wood smoke. “Thank you.”

Setting
the dish down on an end table, he slid her jacket down her arms and tucked it
into a coat closet where she noticed a few extra deputy uniforms and pairs of
polished boots were neatly stored. He retrieved the casserole dish and inhaled
deeply. “This smells delicious.”

“It’s
nothing terribly fancy, simple macaroni and cheese.” She explained as she
followed him into the living room. A robust fire crackled from the fireplace,
across from which a simple square table was setup along with place settings,
linen napkins, and a bottle of white wine chilling in a bucket of ice.

“I
love macaroni and cheese.” He licked his lips. “Does it have a crunchy
topping?”

“It’d
be a sin to have forgotten that.” She laughed.

He
lifted the foil cover up and smelled it once more. “Is there no end to your
talent with food?”

She
walked over to a brown leather loveseat and set her purse down on the carpeted
floor. “I’m horrible with making fudge.” She confessed. “The best I can come up
with is more akin to sludge.”

“Well
that changes things, date’s over.” He joked as he set the casserole dish on the
table.

She
shared his laughter and lowered herself down onto the cushions of the loveseat.
The leather cushions were soft and supple, cradling her body in a warm embrace.
“You have a lovely home here. You’re so lucky to have a working fireplace.”

“I
was surprised it hadn’t been replaced with one of those gas units.” Joshua
stared at the fireplace with pride. “It’s just not the same.”

“I
agree.” She watched the flames dance and leap over the split wood. The bottom
glowed amber and red, much like the sunset she had witnessed earlier. “It’s
just not as romantic.”

He
easily pulled the cork from the bottle and poured some of the wine. “I was
thinking the same thing.” He took a seat and passed a long-stemmed goblet to
her.

“Here’s
to the lost art of romance.” She raised her glass to him.

“I’ll
drink to that.” He shared the toast with her and they both took a sip.

The
wine was bright and fruity, with a nice grape flavor. “This is really good.
What kind is it?”

“It’s
from one of the local places around here.” He paused for a moment in thought.
“Glen Harvest, I think was the name.”

“That’s
the winery that Stephen Clemens owns with his family.” Vivienne mused.

“I
don’t think I know him.” Joshua replied and took another sip.

“He’s
the husband of Victoria Clemens from the historic commission.” Although her
knowledge of wine was quite limited, she had to admit that this blend was quite
tasty.

“Oh.”
Joshua nodded. “She was the bossy one at the meeting, right?”

“Well,
one of the bossy ones I guess.” Vivienne shrugged. “There was so much said that
night it all seems a blur now after Mona’s death.”

Joshua
swirled the remaining wine in his glass. “I know.”

Vivienne
scolded herself for bringing up Mona’s death again. He probably had dealt with
it all day at work and the last thing he wanted to do was spend his off hours
talking about it. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “So, I’m
thinking I’m going to aim for a soft opening in four days.”

His
blue eyes studied her. “No big ceremony?”

“That’s
not my style, really.” She took another sip of wine.

He
placed his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t care for big crowds either?”

She
relaxed and allowed herself to lean against him. “I’m just a laid back country
girl at heart.” She loved feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. The
faint smell of a spicy cologne drifted from underneath his shirt.

“That’s
me too.” He answered with a chuckle. “Except for the girl part, that is.”

He
stretched his long legs out and accidently knocked her purse over with the tip
of his enormous brown cowboy boots. “I’m sorry about that.” He leaned forward
to retrieve it. “That’s what happens when you have size fifteen feet.”

“I
can see why.” She chuckled in response. “It’s okay. Don’t tell anyone, but I
can be a klutz in the kitchen sometimes too.”

“What’s
this?” He picked the
grimoire
up from the floor.

“Oh,
it’s just an old journal from my Nana Mary.” She finished off her wine and
reached out for it. “I found it tucked in a box with some of her cookbooks.”

He
flipped it open and glanced at the page. “Whoa. This is from 1692?”

The
empty wine goblet fell from her grip and bounced on the carpet as she sat up in
alarm. “What did you say?”

He
pointed to the first page on the
grimoire
where the
journal entry was posted. “It says March 28th, 1692.”

“You
can read it?” She blinked in disbelief. “You can actually read it?”

“Yes.”
He answered slowly. “Is that surprising to you?”

She
shook her head. “No. It’s amazing me.”

“Amazing
that I can actually read a book?” He puzzled.

“No,”
She took the
grimoire
in her hands. “You are the only
person I’ve shown this too that can see more than just a bunch of blank pages.”
She flipped ahead to the middle of the book where the pages still looked like
gibberish to her. “Can you read this?”

He
leaned forward and his brow furrowed. “Not really. It looks like some kind of
collection of symbols.”

She
set the book down on the loveseat and threw her arms around him in response.
“I’m not going crazy. Oh, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Whoa.”
He pulled away from her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m
sorry.” She fanned her face with her hands. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but
this means more to me than you can know.”

“Vivienne,
I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.” He gave her a little
smile of reassurance. “But I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“I
guess I should start at the beginning.”

“Can
we talk over dinner?” He asked. “I’ve been smelling that macaroni and cheese
since you came in and it’s driving me crazy.”

She
clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes. I’m so sorry about that.”

Joshua
stood up from the loveseat and helped her up. “Something tells me you’ve got a
hell of a story to tell.”

She
looked up at him, the firelight dancing off his finely chiseled features. “You
have no idea.”

As
they enjoyed the main course, and a few more glasses of wine to wash it all
down, Vivienne brought him up to speed on her journey of discovery. At first,
he seemed to be waiting for her to reveal it was all a prank. After the third
glass of wine went down, he lowered his guard and took in every word with
absolute undivided attention.

“This
is amazing.” He marveled. “It might just be the wine talking, but for some
reason I completely believe you.”

“I
can hardly believe it myself.” She admitted.

“So
you cast a spell on the macaroni and cheese?”

“I
guess so.” She hadn’t found so much as a single charred piece in the entire
casserole dish. “But don’t ask me how I did it.”

“That
seems a rather simple spell. Did they even have macaroni and cheese back in
Salem?” He chuckled.

“Right
now I’d believe anything is possible.” She took another sip of wine. “Coming
from me, that’s really saying something.” Her head swirled a bit and she wished
she hadn’t drunk so much of the wine.

“I’m
not a warlock or anything like that.” Joshua added as he finished the last of
the wine. “Isn’t that what a male
witch
is called?”

“Well
that’s good to hear.” Despite the two of them finishing two entire bottles of
wine, she was still quite thirsty. It must have been the heat from the fire,
she thought as she held her empty glass out to him. “I don’t know about you,
but I’m still a little
thirshy
.” She blinked at her
mangled pronunciation. “Thirsty. Do you have another bottle?”

“I
think there’s one more in the fridge, but it’s a blush.” As he rose from the
chair, he held onto the table for support. “That wine really catches up to you
after awhile.”