Janet Evanovich - Wicked Appetite

I thought it was no wonder there were rumors of Clara’s magical powers. She had electric hair that defied rubber bands, hairspray, hairclips, and style. Her eyes were almond-shaped, slightly tilted, fringed by dark lashes. Her lips were thin but seemed right for her face. She wore big hoop earrings and a delicate silver cross on a chain around her neck. And she walked fast with a forward tilt, her chef coat flapping behind her, making it easy to imagine her on a broom.

Glo was a more difficult vision, looking like she’d be more at home at the mall than standing behind a witch’s cauldron. Yet here she was with her array of possibly enchanted brooms.

“I got this one at the hardware store next door,” Glo said, selecting a wooden-handled, straw sweeper number. “That hardware store is as old as Dazzle’s. I thought there was a good chance they’d have a wizard broom.”

She straddled the broom, took a deep breath, and concentrated. “Uppity uppity rise thyself,” she said. “Wings of magic, heart of believer, eyes open, spirit soar. Uppity uppity rise thyself.”

Nothing. Glo repeated the spell. Still nothing.

“Did I say the spell right?” she asked me.

“Yep,” I told her. “It was perfect.”

She set the broom aside and threw her leg over a disposable dust mop. “This is a long shot, but no stone unturned, right?”

“And if the spell doesn’t work, you can clean the shop floor with it,” Clara said.

“Uppity uppity rise thyself,” Glo chanted. “Wings of magic, heart of believer, eyes open, spirit soar. Uppity uppity rise thyself.”

She opened her eyes and looked over at me. “Well?”

“Sorry.”

“No biggie. I’ve got two more.” She grabbed a broom with a blue plastic handle and a yellow plastic brush cut at an angle. She stuck the broom between her legs, closed her eyes, and said the spell. She opened her eyes and blew out a sigh. “I’m not feeling it. I know this one isn’t the right broom.”

We all looked at the remaining broom. It had a high-gloss mahogany wood handle and a nicely tied-together natural straw sweeper end.

“I saved the best for last,” Glo said. “I got this broom from Nina at the Exotica Shoppe. She said it was her best performing broom.”

“Did she say it would fly?” Clara asked.

“She said it had real potential in the right hands.”

First off, I couldn’t relate to the whole flying thing. I got a sick stomach at the thought of clipping along with nothing under me but a broomstick and air. I suppose I’m a big, boring chicken, but I had no desire to hang glide, ride in a hot-air balloon, or parachute out of a plane. I hated roller coasters and Ferris wheels, and I threw up on the teacups at Disney World.

Second, I was still having a hard time with the whole enhanced ability stuff. Some of it, I could buy into. Like I could see where someone might be able to sense certain kinds of energy. I could understand that some people were stronger than others. And it seemed reasonable that I might have an instinctive sense regarding cupcake ingredients. I had a harder time understanding Diesel’s ability to open doors. I was completely freaked that Wulf could burn flesh with the touch of a fingertip. And flying on a broom was way out of my believability comfort zone.

Nonetheless, Glo wanted to fly, so I was going to make an effort at being supportive. I gave Glo two thumbs up. “Go for it,” I said, plastering a smile onto my face.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing onto the broom. “I think this might be it.” She squinched her eyes tightly closed, gripped the handle, and repeated the spell. “Uppity uppity rise thyself. Wings of magic, heart of believer, eyes open, spirit soar. Uppity uppity rise thyself.”

She opened her eyes and looked over at me. “Did you see it move? Did my feet come off the ground? It felt like I got a little lift.”

“Maybe a little,” I said. “It was hard to see from here.”

Glo looked at Clara. “Did you see it?”

“Not exactly, but I wasn’t watching your feet.”

Glo focused on the broom handle. “Here goes again. I have a feeling I’m just going to zoom away this time.”

She ran through the spell and waited a beat. We all held our breath, but nothing happened. No uppity. No rising. No soaring.

“Crap,” Glo said. “Damn and double damn and phooey.”

She dropped the broom to the floor and kicked it across the room. The broom ricocheted off the wall, flipped end over end, bounced off the work island, and crashed through the back window.

No one moved for a full minute. We were eyes wide, mouths open, frozen in place.

“I didn’t see that,” I finally said. “I swear I didn’t see anything.”

Clara picked her way through the pieces of glass on the floor and looked out the window. “Uh-oh.”

“What uh-oh?” I asked her. “I hate uh-oh.”

“I don’t see the broom.”

We went outside and looked around. No broom.

“A dog must have carried it off,” I said.

Glo squinted up into the sky. “Come back, broom,” she yelled. “I’m sorry I kicked you.”

We all looked up to see if the broom would return.

“I feel like an idiot,” Clara said. “I’m standing here expecting to see a flying broom.”

We trooped into the kitchen and closed the door.

“I didn’t want to say anything when we were outside,” Glo said, “but I think that broom was really mean-spirited.”

“You should get your money back,” Clara said. “I wouldn’t pay for a broom with an attitude.”

I picked up where I’d left off with the cupcake icing. “It was just a freak accident,” I said more to myself than to anyone else.

Clara used one of Glo’s brooms to sweep up the window glass. “I’ll go along with the freak part.”

Diesel sauntered in through the entrance from the shop. “How’s it going?” he asked.

No one said anything. We were all contemplating the question, not sure of the answer.

His attention moved to the broken window. “What happened there?”

“Angry broom,” Glo said on a sigh.

Diesel cut his eyes to me.

“Glo kicked it to the wall, and then it sort of did a cartwheel and flipped itself through the window,” I told him.

“Hard to get sympathetic about a broom and a broken window when I’ve got a monkey sitting in my backseat,” Diesel said.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Glo said. “It turns out it’s surprisingly difficult to place a monkey.”

Clara scooped the glass up in a dustpan and dumped the pieces into the trash. “At least we’re neighbors to a hardware store. I’m going to run next door and find someone to fix my window.”

Diesel looked at his watch and then at me. “How much longer until you’re done?”

“I have to decorate this last batch of red velvet and do a little clean-up. Maybe ten minutes.”

By the time I had my workstation clean and I was ready to leave, Clara had returned and was measuring the broken window with George Henley from Henley’s Hardware.

“See you tomorrow,” I said to Clara. “Have a nice day, George.”

“Back at ya,” George said. “Make sure you’re on your game tomorrow. I’m getting paid in cupcakes. I got a whole week coming to me.”

I put together a box of meat pies and cupcakes, grabbed my purse and sweatshirt, and walked through the shop. Glo was behind the counter, reading Ripple’s, periodically glancing up to make sure no customers had sneaked in on her.

“See you tomorrow,” I said to Glo. “I hope your broom comes back.”

“Fat chance of that,” she said. “It hates me.”

Diesel was parked at the curb, looking bored behind the wheel. Carl was in the backseat, sitting in a booster chair, strapped in, watching a movie on a small DVD player. He had a box of Froot Loops and a sport bottle of water on the seat next to him.