A Call to Charms Page 6

  All conversation ceased as we walked in. They had set this area up for a cocktail party, with a bar and trays of hors d’oeuvres arranged on a long table along the back wall, and everyone stood in the center of the room facing us.

  Crap! I knew I should have insisted on showering and changing clothes.

  Most of the men were wearing suits, and the women had on what my mother used to call their Sunday best. They were all staring at me as if I had just crawled out from under a rock, which, to be fair, was how I looked.

  I hissed at Uncle Will, “Why didn’t you let me get fixed up? This is not casual.”

  “You’re fine.” Uncle Will glanced at someone I couldn’t see and paled. His voice shook as he said, “Your appearance is the least of your worries.”

  What did he mean by that? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Maybe coming to Echo Springs hadn’t been a good idea after all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Possible Side Effects

  I didn’t have time to figure out what had caused Uncle Will’s fearfulness because he immediately introduced me around. I forgot the names of most of the attendees as soon as we moved to the next person, but some were more memorable.

  For instance, the guy in the jeans and leather jacket bore an uncanny resemblance to James Dean.

  When Uncle Will introduced him as Jeremy Wilson, I waited for Will to mention something about the younger man’s likeness to the doomed movie star, but all he said was, “Jeremy owns Wilson’s Garage and Gas Station. He’ll take care of Dora’s vehicle for you, if you have any problems with it.”

  Problems? Oh, great, Aunt Dora’s car was probably a 1978 Chevy Chevette or something equally ancient and awful.

  While Jeremy seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, all ages were well represented among the attendees. From what I gathered, everyone at the party owned businesses in town, ranches on the outskirts, or were professionals such as the doctor, the president of the bank, and the high school principal. Undoubtedly they were Echo Spring’s movers and shakers.

  Take the next woman we approached.

  Uncle Will put his hand on her arm and said, “This is Francine Althorp.” He didn’t blink as he introduced the Princess Diana lookalike. “She owns Althorp’s Fine Apparel.”

  Although I was never a big fan of the ill-fated princess, my mother had loved her. Which meant that I had seen enough of the seemingly endless TV and magazine stories about her royal highness to recognize her short blond hair, distinctive nose, and big blue eyes.

  She shook my hand and said in an upper-class British accent, “I hope you’ll stop by my shop. We have some terribly nice things in larger sizes that would look super on you.”

  Larger sizes? I narrowed my eyes. Well, yes, I took a double-digit size, while she was probably a two on her worst, most bloated day, but did she have to mention it?

  I squeezed her delicate hand, okay, maybe a little harder than I should have, and answered, “Thank you so much, Prin...er...Francine. I’ll be sure to take you up on your kind offer sometime.”

  Yeah, when hell freezes over.

  After we moved on, I whispered to Uncle Will, “Wasn’t that James Dean and Princess Diana?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He shook his head slightly. “Don’t bring it up.

  Hmmm. I ruminated through the next several introductions, then almost lost it when Uncle Will introduced me to the town mayor, Patrick Fitzgerald. Patrick was the spitting image of President John F. Kennedy. What was this place? A refuge for all the celebrities who died in automobiles?

  I opened my mouth, but Uncle Will elbowed me in the ribs and hissed in my ear. “Don’t ask.”

  Swallowing my original words, I said instead, “Nice to meet you, Mayor.” I wonder what would have happened if I had greeted him with “Ich bin ein Echo Springer?”

  Once again Uncle Will towed me away before I could have any kind of conversation with the mayor. This time we made it all the way to the rear of the room, where a woman in her late twenties and two men maybe a year or so older stood.

  Uncle Will placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder and said, “Alexandria, this is your cousin, Elissa Morningstar.”

  “Call me Lexie.” I kept my expression neutral as I studied her.

  She had curly red hair and mischievous green eyes, not quite beautiful, but certainly close enough that I would bet she could have any guy in town. We stared at each other. It was that moment when two women meet and decide whether they would be friends or competition. Seeing as she had on a luscious Kiwi-colored jersey dress and matching striped canvas wedges, she had me at a disadvantage.

  A second later, she smiled and hugged me, whispering in my ear, “Come over to the library tomorrow around lunchtime so we can talk.”

  I nodded my consent, wondering what she wanted to talk about. Was it all the undead celebrities or the coincidences that brought me to Echo Springs? Or maybe it was about why my father had been murdered.

  Probably not. With my luck, she just wanted to warn me that the two yummy males she was with were hers.

  The men in question stood shoulder-to-shoulder, reminding me of the white and black kings from my ivory and ebony chessboard. A possession I had loved but had had to leave behind.

  Uncle Will patted the dark-haired guy’s biceps. “Alexandria, this is Lucas Furman. We passed his family’s ranch on the way into town.”

  “How do you do?” I smiled at the Adonis standing before me and vowed to get even with my uncle for making me meet him looking like I had just stumbled out of a storm-ravaged sewer. “Please call me Lexie.”

  “My pleasure.” He shook my hand, and I shivered.

  You know that tingly feeling you get when you meet someone special? After my experiences with Gil, I now realize that prickle is your common sense leaving your body, so I ignored the warmth blossoming in my chest and gave him a cool smile.

  But I couldn’t ignore how well his massive shoulders filled his suit jacket or the inherent strength in his chiseled face. However, it was his compelling brown eyes that nearly mesmerized me.

  People always commented on the variegations in my eyes, and his were the same configuration, only a dark honey and cinnamon in ocher, while mine were green and gold in amber. I had never seen anyone with a similar pattern to mine before.

  Before I was ready, he let go of my hand, and the white king immediately claimed it. He was as tall as Lucas, and while leaner still nicely muscled.

  Uncle Will said, “And this is Cole Pendergast, our host for the evening.”

  Blond hair and brows complemented his fair skin, and his features were nearly perfect. One more degree of delicacy and they would have made him too beautiful for a man.

  He drew me closer, and said something charming, but I didn’t hear the words because once again, I was staring at eyes that were patterned like my own. Only this time they were sky blue and indigo in silver.

  What in the heaven’s name was going on here?

  There had been a definite spark when Lucas had taken my hand and another when Cole touched me. Now, as Cole murmured in my ear about getting to know one another better, Lucas stepped closer and took my other hand.

  As soon as skin touched skin, there was a flash, and warmth surged from my toes to the top of my head. The hair on my arms stood up, and the air in front of me looked wavy. Out of nowhere, an older woman with a copper and gray-streaked bun materialized.

  Eyes that matched mine exactly stared at me, and I heard her say, “Choose carefully.”

  Just before everything went black, I yelled, “What? Choose what?”

  I don’t know how long I was out, but as I fought my way toward consciousness, I heard someone whisper, “We have to kill her before she comes into her full powers.”

  I was pretty sure they were talking about me and with a moan, I slipped back into the darkness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To The Magic Born

  I was still lying on the restaurant floor when I came to th
e second time. For someone who had never fainted before, lately, I was sure spending a lot of time out cold.

  At least I wasn’t keeling over for trivial reasons. In two days, two separate people with two different bizarre reasons wanted me dead. That had to be some kind of record.

  When I finally pried open my reluctant eyelids, I saw a pack of Echo Springs’ leading citizens hovering over me like jackals around a downed antelope. Keeping a wary eye on the people crowded around me, I struggled to a sitting position. Once I was upright, I stared hard at each one of them attempting to determine who had been casually discussing my murder. Surely they weren’t all in on it.

  At least I hoped not. Because if they were, I was as dead as a mouse in a trap. And I hadn’t even been allowed to eat the tasty cheese yet.

  “Alexandria, stay still, my dear.” Evidently, Uncle Will had been talking to me while I was trying to figure out who was planning my imminent demise, because he let out a little sigh and said slowly, as if he were waiting for my brain to get back from its holiday, “Let Dr. Silvia examine you.”

  “No.” I shook my head, fending off a well-dressed woman in her late thirties who was trying to take my pulse. “Thank you, doctor, but I’m fine.”

  Dr. Silvia pushed her bangs out of her solemn brown eyes and said, “If you lose consciousness again, you need to come to see me immediately.”

  “Will do.”

  Elissa nudged Uncle Will out of her way bent toward me, and asked, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.” Struggling to my feet, I added, “I just need a minute to regroup.”

  Elissa glanced at Uncle Will who shrugged, then lent me a hand. As soon as I was on my feet, I pushed my way out of the throng and zoomed into the ladies’ room with Elissa hot on my heels. She locked the door behind her and watched silently as I stepped up to the mirror.

  One glimpse of my reflection convinced me not to take a second glance. When I had arrived at the dinner, I had already looked like I’d been cleaning toilets, and the time I had spent on the floor hadn’t improved my appearance.

  There was little I could do to make myself look better except wash my face, smooth my hair, and brush off my clothes. What I really needed was a shower, a set of electric curlers, and some serious time with my makeup case.

  Elissa didn’t say a word as I used the facilities, then washed my hands, but as I stood there shredding a paper towel, she asked, “Ready to go back?”

  Unable to think of any other reason to delay my return to the dining room, I took a deep breath and nodded. Elissa hooked her elbow with mine, and we returned to the lions’ den.

  I got through the rest of the evening without any further crises, but as soon as the meal was finished, I whispered to Uncle Will, “Get me out of here.”

  He started to argue, but the expression on my face must have convinced him that either I could walk out of the room now, or he could carry me out later, because he made our excuses and drove me to my new residence.

  Uncle Will kept stealing little peeks at me as he steered the big car down dimly lit streets. He was probably surprised I wasn’t peppering him with questions about all I had seen and heard at the dinner, but I was too tired to start an interrogation. Tomorrow would be soon enough to pry some answers out of him.

  I’m not sure what I had been expecting, but the pale lemon three-story home with the gingerbread trim and wraparound porch was not it, and I shuddered. It might have been a beautiful house, but it was also the one I had been having dreams about since I was six years old. How could I possibly have known about this place?

  Refusing to be creeped out, I concentrated on the positives. Once Uncle Will knew I was coming, he’d had someone clean the place and stock the fridge, and when we walked inside the pleasant odor of lemon furniture wax greeted us.

  After he’d helped me with my luggage, Uncle Will handed me the key, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Remember, Chief Neville wants to speak to you tomorrow at three about your accident. He gave you his card, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled, too tired to say much else.

  “And when you’re finished at the police station, we need to finish up the paperwork for your inheritance. Call me if you need anything.” Uncle Will patted my shoulder and started to leave, but stopped and added, “Elissa lives in the cottage a little ways down the lane, so don’t be alarmed if you see a car turn into the drive.”

  “Okay.” I wondered how my cousin felt about me inheriting the estate but didn’t have the energy to ask. Instead, I said, “Thanks for everything.”

  Then barely waiting until Uncle Will was out the door, I locked it and leaned against the wall. The wave of exhaustion I had been fighting hit me like a tsunami, and the staircase to the second floor looked like Mt. Everest.

  There was no way I could make that climb without the assistance of a couple of Sherpas. And since none seemed to be available, I looked around for another alternative.

  A brief examination of the first floor revealed that Aunt Pandora had converted a back parlor into a master suite and I blessed her for doing so as I collapsed on the bed.

  * * *

  The next morning I woke from a deep, dreamless sleep knowing exactly where I was. Which was odd, as was the fact that the memory of my life in Chicago was already fading. I could barely recall my employer’s name.

  Stretching, I realized that I felt amazingly good—especially considering Gil’s attack, the car accident, and my fainting episode. I should have been bruised and battered, but I couldn’t locate even the tiniest ache or pain.

  Hmm! Speaking of passing out, what exactly had happened when I collapsed? In the light of day, I was less willing to believe that the mere touch of two men had made me keel over or that the Echo Springs’ upper crust was plotting to kill me, much less that my dead aunt had spoken to me from beyond the grave.

  I was halfway to convincing myself that I had passed out because of low blood sugar, and that the rest was only a dream when I spotted the portrait above the fireplace. It was of a woman who looked a lot like me. Same copper-colored hair, same variegated eyes, same curvy figure.

  Fast-forward thirty years or so, and the woman in the picture would resemble the one I had seen just before I lost consciousness. I had never met my aunt, so how had I known what she looked like?

  When I couldn’t think of a logical explanation, I told myself that I had too much to do, to worry about a silly hypoglycemic dream. Among other things, I needed to explore the house, unpack, and get some answers from my cousin and honorary uncle.

  The master suite included an attached bathroom which was deliciously sumptuous. The whirlpool tub was big enough to require a lifeguard, and the separate shower was so large I could have fit the entire bathroom from my apartment inside its tiled walls.

  It seemed my aunt, and I shared a taste for the good things in life. However, unlike me, it appeared she could afford them. Maybe I had inherited more than I thought.

  After showering, I did my hair and makeup and dressed in crisp khakis, a primrose oxford shirt, and my favorite Gucci loafers. Feeling more like myself, and thus back in control, I investigated the kitchen.

  In the refrigerator, I found a package of Multigrain Light Thomas’s English muffins, real butter, orange marmalade, and sugar-free French vanilla creamer, which were exactly my breakfast items of choice. How could someone have known that? Another question for Uncle Will.

  Rested, fed, and sipping my second cup of Godiva chocolate truffle coffee, I was ready to survey my new surroundings. A front parlor faced the street. It was furnished in delicate antiques and looked as if no one had set foot on the exquisite Oriental carpet in a couple of decades.

  Opposite the parlor was a combination study/den/family room, which must have been where my aunt had spent her time. A comfortably-worn leather sofa and matching chair were arranged around an oval braided rug. Built-in bookshelves occupied two walls, and a large desk with a computer took up most of a third. On t
he remaining wall, facing the couch was a fireplace with a flat screen TV mounted above it.

  All the surfaces were dust free and sparkled. Whoever Uncle Will had hired to clean the place had done a fantastic job. Was she available on a permanent basis? More importantly, could I afford her?

  Making a mental note to ask him the housekeeper’s name, I moved on. The dining room echoed the style and perfection of the parlor, but I had noted earlier that the kitchen had been modernized with stainless steel appliances, cherry wood cabinets, and gorgeous black quartz counters.

  The back parlor that had been remodeled to serve as the master suite was next on my tour. The stone fireplace on the wall opposite the bed seemed to be the only remnant of the old room.

  An interesting picture of my aunt was emerging. She was a woman with ties to both the old and the new—and money enough to buy what she wanted. That had to be a good sign, right?

  Checking my watch, I saw it was only ten o’clock. There was plenty of time to investigate the second floor. Except, when I climbed the stairs, I couldn’t get into any of the four rooms lining the upstairs hallway. The doors were all dead-bolted, and none of the keys Uncle Will had left me worked.

  I could understand Aunt Pandora’s desire to save on gas and electricity by closing up those rooms. She was a single person occupying a large house. But why did she lock them?

  Curiously, I mounted the small spiral staircase to the third floor, but the entrance leading to this area was bolted, as well. Before I could do anything about clearing out the house, I needed to find the keys to all these locked doors. Maybe Uncle Will had them.

  Not wanting to miss my lunch date with Elissa, I decided to unpack my suitcases would take less time than going through my aunt’s desk and file cabinet. Unfortunately, a quick peek revealed that Pandora’s clothes still occupied the walk-in closet and dresser drawers.