Making Magic (10 page)

He held her there and she had to fight not to let her own tears flow.
For now, but not forever.

They really had kept her secret. Thea tried to remember if she had ever used the voice to constrain them somehow.

Daniel kissed Thea’s forehead and turned to keep his arm tight around her. “No matter what you think, four billion dollars is a lot.”

“And that verdict has strengthened those other pending lawsuits,” Nick added.

“Daniel Woodruff, you are going to
explain all this to me.” Mel huffed. “After the wedding.”

“Sorry. It’s been hard,” Thea said, her voice rough. All those years of sneaking around, deceiving her colleagues, giving up her music and, worst of all, being without her real family, had been wasted. And she had lost precious years with Pops. Time she would never get back.

“It wasn’t a waste,” Daniel said. “I know that.”

Thea looked up at him. Had she said that out loud?

Something wet rubbed her ankle and she looked down to see Bailey licking her. Scooping her up, Thea buried her face in short white fur and took a deep steadying breath, covering up her anxiety by cooing at the dog.

“Okay. Thea’s right. This is not a topic for our pre-wedding celebrations,” Nick said. “I apologize for pressing the issue.”

Thea looked up. Grace had probably prompted him. Mel’s eyes were full of tears. What a disaster this had been.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Thea said. “Today is—”

“You need to be in my wedding,” Mel said, wiping at her eyes.

“What?” Thea asked.

“Grace is my matron-of-honor and Jamie is my flower girl. I would love it if you could somehow be in the wedding,” Mel said.

“Oh, that is so sweet of you,” Thea said with relief. “But I’m fine with just being there for your big day.”

“No.” Grace sat up. “Actually, this will work. The boutique had to get two dresses for me. I had no idea if I would still be this shape at this point. I bet the other one would fit you. In fact, I’m sure of it. I doubt there is a huge call for dark teal evening dresses in town.”

“You can be my other maid-of-honor,” Mel exclaimed.

“You can have more than one?”

“No rules against it. Even if there were, who cares? This’ll be perfect! I can easily put together another bouquet.”

Thea swallowed. “But I-I don’t have any shoes to match.”

“No worries. Everyone is wearing these cute foldable flats, including me. The better to dance in!” Mel said. “Mine are dyed to match your dresses, but yours are ivory to match mine. The boutique has them in ivory in every size. I need to go into town to get my hair trimmed anyway, so you can try on the dress and get the shoes.” She literally bounced. “Oh, I hope they still have the dress.”

Thea had this vision of some kind of horrid poofy meringue that she would never wear again, but she forced a smile. “Sounds great.”

“You’re lying,” Mel said. “But you will love it—I promise.”

“At least Mel didn’t try to get you to play with the band,” Daniel said. “She talked about it earlier.”

“Oh.” That
was a blessing. “You’re having live music?” Thea asked.

“Yes. They’re called Songs in the Wood,” Grace said with a particularly smug smile. “Jake Jake Beefcake’s group.”

Jake set down the tuning wrench, unclipped the tuner, rolled his shoulders and picked up his hammers. Much to the delight of the couple browsing the store with their young son, he started playing “Tarantella Napoletana” on the hammered dulcimer he had just tuned. Jake grinned as the little boy started clapping in time with the beat of the classic piece of Italian culture, something he’d probably only ever heard used in pasta commercials. Mel and Daniel had been practicing the traditional Tarantella dance steps so that they could perform it at the reception to surprise her father.

It was going to be quite the mixture of music—a bit of Italian, a bit of Celtic and a bit of good old mountain music, with a few interesting choices for the bridal couple dances. Jake almost wished he could be on the dance floor for this one. It wasn’t the first wedding his group had done, but it was the first one that was so musically eclectic.

He glanced out at the street, finished the Tarantella and started into the “Chicken Dance” song, something Mel had specifically requested. The little boy immediately started going through the motions and his parents soon joined in. Jake grinned and played with equal enthusiasm.

So far the dulcimers sounded as good as they looked—and they looked pretty damn fine. Although he still had one more to string and tune, he was feeling upbeat about the odds of selling one this weekend and maybe getting some orders for custom work. His new business cards were ready and he’d been checking out the online storefronts of other instrument builders. It had only been a hobby—an avocation. He had never seriously thought about trying to make a living at it until the Woodsman’s death. Even then, it had taken getting shot in the gut to really set him on the path.

His father had been a bit dismissive of his music, considering it not quite macho enough for the son of a sheriff and had encouraged him to try one sport after another instead. Though he had excelled at anything involving throwing a ball or shooting a gun, music had been his first love. Jake had only pursued law enforcement because the world seemed to expect him to walk in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, which, looking back, was a damn stupid reason to do anything.

But he had proven to his dad and the people of the county that macho wasn’t measured by the caliber of a gun, but by the mind of the man wielding it. He still held the record for the highest firearms qualification scores in the state. Of course, now he knew why.

With a grim smile, he launched into the bouncy Irish jig “A Fig for a Kiss” and enjoyed watching the little fellow’s face as he sped the tune up faster and faster until the hammers were blurs. When he stopped, his audience, including a couple out on the sidewalk, applauded. He always had the door propped open to serenade the window shoppers.

He touched his hammers to his forehead in a salute to them. Among the passers-by was Charlie Sloan, acting sheriff of Monroe County, standing on the sidewalk with his arms folded, grinning.

Jake waved him in. Charlie had left his hat in his car, but was in full uniform. Official business?

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Jake asked.

Charlie nodded to the couple in the store and smiled at their little boy as he shook Jake’s hand. The boy was absolutely fascinated with Charlie’s gun and all the other equipment hooked to his belt.

“How are you doing, Jake?” Charlie said. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while and I thought I’d check in on the invalid, see how you’re healing up.”

That’s what cell phones are for
, Jake thought, but played along. “Getting better every day. Working out the kinks.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie waited for the couple to finish browsing and head out the door.

“What are you really here for, Charlie?” Jake asked, sitting back down. “Besides scaring away business?”

“Hey, I don’t want to wear this damn badge for much longer, my friend. I do
not
want to be sheriff.”

“I know the feeling. Want some coffee?” Jake offered.

“No thanks.” Charlie leaned against the other stool. “But seriously, when’re you planning on coming back?”

“Is this the acting sheriff asking, or my friend Charlie?”

“Damn. I’m gonna win my bet, aren’t I? You ain’t coming back.” Charlie shook his head. “I knew it.”

“Bet?”

“There’s a pool.”

“A pool on whether I’ll come back or not?” Jake laughed. “Of course there is. Hell, you guys bet on everything else.”

“Shit, Jake. I know there are parts of the job that are a pain in the neck, but you’re damn good at it. And you can handle those politicians better’n anyone.”

“You’re doing fine, Charlie,” Jake said.

“I’m doing okay. But people are asking after you. Those folks out there want
you
as our sheriff, not me and sure as hell not some good old boy who’s more interested in making friends in Raleigh than taking care of them.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have friends in Raleigh?” Jake chided.

“Dammit, Jake,” Charlie said, standing up.

“I hear you, all right?” Jake held up his hands. “I hear you.”

“Yeah, well. That and five bucks’ll buy me a cup of coffee.”

“I thought you were on the winning end of this bet,” Jake said smoothly.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t want to win this one, but I know you too well, Boss.” Charlie went over to look at one of the mountain dulcimers displayed on the wall.

“All right. Now that’s been said, why are you really here?” Jake said, folding his arms.

Charlie smirked. “And you know me too well.”

“Mmmm.”

“We’ve got a weird one,” Charlie said, listening for a second as his radio sputtered.

Jake waited.

“Had a baby girl snatched right out of her stroller over at Mountain Minerals this morning—”

Jake stood. “A kidnapping? Dammit. What’re you doing here then? Did you—”

“Whoa. Whoa. Hold on.” Charlie waved his arms. “She showed up about ten or fifteen minutes later. Back in her stroller. Sound asleep. No one knows for sure how long it was. They were all out front and out back looking for whoever took her. No one was actually in the store.”

“She okay?”

“Not a hair out of place—not that she had much anyway. Nothing missing. Not even the mom’s purse, which was right there in the stroller with her.”

“All right.” Frowning, Jake sat back down and picked up the tuner. “Didn’t the mom see anything?”

“You know Mountain Minerals, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that section behind the register where she’s got the big geodes and more valuable stuff?” At Jake’s nod, Charlie kept going. “The mom had parked her stroller in there and was browsing. It was about the safest place in the shop. No door. No window. No way in or out except past the register.”

“Maybe she didn’t get taken at all. Did they lose her in her own stroller or something? That happens.” He’d gotten a couple of calls where babies had somehow slid right out of the seat and down behind their blankets, scaring the parents out of their wits.

“She’s a tiny thing. Only a few weeks old, so maybe. But there were a bunch of folks there who swear she was gone, then she was back,” Charlie said.

“Weird, but—”

Charlie held up his hand. “And she’s not the only one.”

Jake froze. “What?”

Charlie nodded. “About an hour later, same thing happened at the Trailhead Tavern.”

That changed everything. Shaking his head, Jake put the tuner down and rubbed at his chin.

“Another baby girl, a bit older this time. Her mom was…uh…in one of the stalls in the bathroom there. Stall wasn’t big enough to bring the stroller in with her so she rolled it up against the back wall where she could see it, or at least see the wheels, from…uh…where she was. You know.”

Normally Jake would’ve poked fun at Charlie’s social discomfort, but he stayed quiet.

“This one heard something. Didn’t hear anyone come in or see any feet or shoes or anything, but she has her eyes on the wheels. She hears what sounds like a pipe or whistle or flute or something playing. She thought it was a loudspeaker with some kind of music the tavern was playing. The baby made a sound. Said it was the baby’s happy sound. Then nothing.” Charlie made a negating gesture. “She didn’t hear anyone walk in or out, the door didn’t open or close. When she came out, the baby was gone.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Charlie agreed. “So she runs out into the restaurant screaming. One of the waitresses goes in and looks around and she comes out saying the baby’s gone. The manager calls the police and, being a smart guy, guards the doors and won’t let anyone come in or out.”

“What about the back?”

Charlie nodded. “Got his assistant manager back there. They figured the baby was somewhere in the place. No one saw a baby going out the front and there were people sitting out at those patio tables. The kitchen was full of staff and no one went through there either.”

“Let me guess—”

“Yep. Chief Meade gets there with another officer. Everyone is turning the place upside down looking for this baby—in people’s packages and purses, everywhere. Meanwhile, the chief has the mother show him where she was when this happened. Surprise! There’s the baby sound asleep in her stroller in the bathroom.”

“Not a scratch, not a hair out of place, happy as can be,” Jake says.

“You got it. Of course, the chief calls us and I came over to check it out.” Charlie scratched his head. “It’s pretty crazy. The mayor’s involved now, insisting they were both mistaken and maybe one of them fed off the other when she heard about it. She’s worried about the whole tourism thing with the festival and all. But I talked to the second mom and she hadn’t even heard what happened to the first one. Hearing about the first one from me scared her even more.”