Spellbound Falls [5] For the Love of Magic (6 page)

“Really?” Rana said in surprise, glancing at Olivia. “Did Maximilian say anything to you about that?”

“He mentioned they were
trying
. But he said it takes a lot of focused energy to make it happen.”

“Is that really possible?” Peg asked Rana.

“I don’t see why—”

Vanetta Quintana bustled through the door connecting the Bottoms Up with the Drunken Moose, expertly shouldering a tray laden with steaming cups and a large platter of prepared fruit—effectively ending the conversation, since the bar and restaurant owner was the only member of their group who wasn’t part of their magical family. She handed out the beverages, set the fruit in the center of the table, then plopped down in one of the chairs with a tired sigh.

Julia moved her gaze from the fruit to Vanetta with an expectant smile. “Is the next batch of cinnamon buns coming out of the oven soon?”

“Sorry, Jules,” Vanetta said. “The grange ladies got the last batch.”

A heavily pregnant silence filled the otherwise empty bar. “You could have your cook throw together another batch,” Olivia suggested sweetly.

Vanetta glanced at Maude, who was Nicholas’s mother as well as Spellbound Falls’ soon-to-be-official midwife, and then looked back at Olivia. “My cook doesn’t have the recipe for those buns. And even if he did, it takes several hours for them to rise.” She grinned at the three younger women. “But I have plenty more fruit.”

Rana decided that bit of news went over about as well as hearing
who
had gotten the last of Vanetta’s infamous cinnamon buns, even as she noticed Peg MacKeage had dropped her scowl to the cup of amber liquid in front of her.

“Um, I have someone else’s drink,” Peg said, lifting the cup by its saucer and taking a sniff, then looking around the table until her gaze stopped on the steaming mug in front of Vanetta. “You must have my coffee,” she said, holding out the cup as she reached her other hand for the swap. “One cream, two sugars,” she added more forcefully when Vanetta leaned back in her chair while clutching her mug protectively.

Maude took the cup and saucer from Peg and set it on the table in front of her. “This one is yours,” she said with a warm smile, which Rana happened to know was the midwife’s secret weapon for disarming expectant mothers. “Ginger tea, no cream, unsweetened,” she continued, despite Peg turning her scowl on
her
. “And no caffeine.”

“Tea?” Peg repeated, eyeing the amber liquid as if it were hemlock. She glanced at the cup in front of Julia, then at Olivia’s identical cup before looking at Maude again and smiling tightly. Or maybe that was desperation, Rana decided as she hid her own smile by taking a sip of her own tea. “I just read an article,” Peg told the midwife, “that said it’s okay for pregnant women to drink coffee. In moderation,” she tacked on.

Yes, that was definitely desperation.

Maude arched a brow. “Do you really want those two darling little boys doing cartwheels inside you all day, Margaret?”

Peg slapped her hands to her chest with a gasp, her vivid blue eyes widening in surprise. “Boys? You think I’m carrying
boys
?”

“I’m sorry. Were you hoping for girls?”

“No. Boys! I want boys.” Peg picked up her ginger tea. “I mean, of course I would love girls just as much, but . . .” Her eyes sparkling with excitement, Duncan’s wife used her cup to gesture at Julia and Olivia. “We plan to raise all these babies together in a little wolf pack, and the more boys the merrier.” But that sparkle suddenly dimmed as she studied Maude through narrowed eyes. “My ultrasound last week didn’t show anything even resembling penises.”

“Maybe they’re shy little boys,” Maude said.

Peg snorted. “They’re
MacKeages
.” She finally took a sip and immediately spit it back into the cup. “Are you serious? This is terrible.”

“Trust me,” Olivia piped up. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“So, ladies,” Rana quickly interjected when she saw Peg working her way to another scowl. “Where are we in regards to our women’s clinic?”

“I mentioned our problem of finding a vacant building to Reverend Peter,” Julia said in a rush, apparently also eager to redirect Peg’s attention. “And he’s offered to let us use the church basement until we’re able to find something permanent.”

“Well,” Rana said, trying not to sound disappointed, “a basement is a bit gloomy for a birthing clinic, but at least it’s right here in town. And it is only temporary.”

Vanetta gave a negligent wave. “We can brighten it up with a fresh coat of paint and hire Grundy Watts to build some screens to section off exam rooms.” She beamed a smile around the table. “As for the women’s shelter, I found us the perfect home.”

“Where?” Olivia asked. “Is it close to town?”

“It’s within walking distance,” Vanetta said, her cheeks flushing when her announcement was met by silence. “It’s . . . um, my house. And it’ll be vacant just as soon as I finish moving in with Everest. I’m leaving most of my furniture, so we’ll only have to buy more beds.”

“You and Everest are going to live together?” Peg said in surprise.

Vanetta held up her left hand and used her thumb to push out her banded ring finger, her smile returning at the chorus of soft gasps. “You mean it’s not customary for wives to live with their husbands?”

“You guys got
married
?” Julia squeaked. “But when? Or more importantly, why weren’t we invited to the wedding?”

“We tied the knot last week when we were in Las Vegas.”

“But haven’t you and Everest been dating only three months?” Olivia asked, her own cheeks darkening—likely because Vanetta had been dating Olivia’s father, Sam, as recently as
four
months ago.

Vanetta picked up her coffee again. “A few days into our vacation, Everest asked me why we were running two households when we could be waking up together every morning for the rest of our lives. Taking that as a proposal, I dragged the man to the first cheesy wedding chapel I could find before he changed his mind.”

“Does Daddy know?” Olivia whispered.

“He knows,” Vanetta returned just as softly. “And Sam’s good with it. In fact, he wished me well, saying he was glad I found someone smart enough to marry me.”

“I was hoping
he
would be that smart.”

“You and I both know that’s never going to happen, Olivia,” Vanetta said gently. “Sam’s too much of a loner to be domesticated. So,” she said brightly, looking around the table again. “I am officially donating my house for our women’s shelter.”

“But you could sell it for a fortune,” Julia interjected. “Not only is it within walking distance of town, it’s right on the shore of Bottomless.”

“Which makes it perfect,” Vanetta countered. “The women deserve a
beautiful
place to stay while they’re getting their lives back on track, and being able to sit by the water is healing.” She shook her head. “The real problem will be getting them to leave their abusive husbands and boyfriends in the first place. But thanks to our esteemed councilmen finally getting their acts together, we can promise the women our new police chief will keep an eye on them. And between running the Bottoms Up and the Drunken Moose, I’ll be too busy once the tourist season kicks into full swing to help with the everyday operations of the shelter. So for my part, I’m donating my house.”

“But that’s too generous, Netta,” Olivia said. “We decided to raise the funds for the shelter because we want
community
support.” She winced. “As well as to include the grange ladies before they come up with any more cockamamie schemes.”

Vanetta rested her arms on the table again, her eyes growing haunted as she wrapped her hands around her mug. “Getting this shelter up and running as soon as possible is important to me because it’s personal. I begged for a place like this fifteen years ago in rural Alabama.”

“You’re right,
Mrs. Thurber
,” Rana said. “Your home is perfect. And on behalf of the women desperately needing this shelter, we accept. This is wonderful, ladies,” she continued, looking around the table again. “We should be able to receive guests in what . . . a couple of weeks?”

“Assuming someone answers our ad,” Olivia said. “Even the great salary we’re offering doesn’t appear to be enough incentive to lure a qualified social worker to the wilderness.” She looked at Maude and then Rana. “Are there any women from . . . your island who might like a change of scenery?” she asked with a furtive glance at Vanetta—who had no idea that Atlantis actually existed.

“None who would understand the needs of our shelter residents,” Rana said with a sad smile. “Since domestic violence is virtually unheard of on the island.”

Vanetta stilled with her mug halfway to her mouth. “Really?
None
of the men in your country ever raise a hand to your women? Well, hell,” she continued when Rana shook her head. “Why are we wasting our efforts building a shelter? Let’s just ship all the women who come to us for help to . . . to wherever it is you and Maude are from.”

“Because running away from a problem solves nothing,” Rana said, ignoring the fact that she had run away from
hers
. “Our goal is to offer programs that will give these women the skills to help themselves, and merely sending them someplace safe is in essence treating them like children.”

“Yeah,” Vanetta said on a sigh. She suddenly brightened again. “Maybe we should send the husbands and boyfriends to your island and let your men teach the bastards how to treat women.”

“I second that motion,” Peg said, lifting her cup in salute before taking a sip, only to shudder all over as she swallowed. “Curses, that’s nasty.”

“Curses?” Vanetta repeated.

“I’ve given up real cussing,” Peg explained, aiming an angelic smile at Maude, “because I read that babies start developing language in the womb.”

Julia choked on the sip of tea she’d just taken. “You gave up cussing
again
,” she said, using her napkin to wipe her chin, “because Charlie ran up to Christina Richie in the Trading Post yesterday and told her that Jacob had taken his
friggin’ cock
.”

“Clock!” Peg said, her cheeks flushing. “Charlie still has trouble with his
L
s and was trying to say Jacob had taken the
clock
he was looking at.”

“Hmm,” Julia murmured, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I guess that means he was telling Christina his brother had taken his
flying
clock.”

Peg looked at her watch. “Speaking of my sweet little angel,” she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. “I promised Duncan I’d meet him at the marina at nine thirty to take Charlie off his hands so he can leave for Pine Creek. He’s going to see if he can talk one of his MacBain cousins into becoming our chief of police.”

“But I thought he was going to ask his . . . ah, cousin Niall to fill the position,” Julia quickly prevaricated, since Vanetta also had no idea that Niall was Duncan’s distant
ancestor
. “At least that’s what Nicholas told me.”

Peg snatched her purse and jacket off her chair and started backing away. “We found out Brodie MacBain just got back from Afghanistan, and Duncan feels it’s only fair to give a decorated veteran first dibs.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Rana said, also standing. “I have a favor to ask you, Peg,” she said in a whisper as soon as they reached the door.

“What’s up?” Peg asked as she slipped on her jacket, only to sigh when she tried zipping it closed but couldn’t. “Dam—darn,” she muttered, hiking her purse over her shoulder. “It looks like I’m gonna have to dig out my old maternity clothes already.”

“Were you showing at four months with Peter and Jacob?”

“Not this much.” Peg smoothed her fleece over her softly protruding belly. “I didn’t blow up like the Pillsbury Doughboy until my seventh month, which is why we didn’t know I was having twins until Repeat popped out, taking Billy and me
and
the doctor by surprise.”

Billy being Peg’s deceased first husband, Rana knew. It was Billy Thompson who had given Jacob the nickname
Repeat
, when he had exclaimed in the delivery room, “Hey, it’s Pete and Repeat!” The man had died in a construction accident fourteen months later, leaving Peg to single-handedly raise their two daughters and twin boys. That is until Duncan MacKeage had somehow managed to capture the guarded woman’s heart, likely by falling just as madly in love with her small tribe of heathens. The newly formed family had expanded nine months to the day after the wedding, when Peg had given birth to a handsome and gregarious second-generation Maine highlander they’d named Murdoc Charles MacKeage. Duncan called the boy
Mur the Magnificent
and Peg vehemently called him
Charlie
.

Rana was looking forward to their upcoming battle to name the new twins.

“Your favor?” Peg reminded her.

“Oh, yes.” Rana moved closer, putting herself between Peg and the women at the far end of the room. “I was wondering if you would teach me to drive.”

“A car?” Peg said in surprise.

Rana nodded. “A pickup, actually. A rather old one. I was told it’s a standard shift, whatever that means.”

Peg gave a crooked smile. “It means I hope you have good hand-foot coordination and really strong neck muscles.” She suddenly frowned. “What sadistic salesman sold you a standard shift?”

“I didn’t purchase it from a dealership, but from the man I bought my house from.”

Peg’s expression turned to horror. “Are you talking about Pops’ old pickup?” She shook her head when Rana nodded. “But that doesn’t sound like Gene Latimer. He’s the last person I would expect to take advantage of someone who didn’t know better, especially a woman. Gene’s so straight shooting he makes
Reverend Peter
uncomfortable.”

“Gene tried to talk me out of buying the truck,” Rana assured her, “but I insisted he include it with the welding equipment. I don’t wish to own a new truck, anyway, as it will get ruined when I load it with rusty old iron and steel.”

“When you what?”

Rana opened the door and guided Peg outside. “I also purchased Averill Latimer’s welding equipment, and Zack is going to teach me how to cut and weld metal into beautiful statues.”