Jennifer Crusie - The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

The cream there was warming beautifully, thick and rich, and Maxine inhaled and sneezed.

Xan sighed.

Maxine moved closer to the bowl. ‘What is that?’

‘Cream,’ Xan said. A few spices. A little coffee. Some dark chocolate.’

Maxine leaned closer and sniffed. ‘What are you making?’

‘A spell.’ Xan picked up three cinnamon sticks from an intricately painted box that held dozens and, for the moment, her see glass. ‘Lean back, Maxine, I do not want you sneezing into this.’

Maxine stepped back. ‘Is it dangerous?’

‘Very.’ Xan broke the three cinnamon sticks into the cream.

The rich spice filled the room, the cloud spiraling up in three curling strands, rust-colored arabesques with tiny red sparks that made Maxine’s mouth drop open. ‘Whoa,’ she said, leaning closer again as the spirals turned and twisted, and Xan watched, smiling, her eyes half shut.

‘What kind of spell is that?’

It’s a libido spell, Maxine,’ Xan said, watching the cinnamon curl. ‘I went to Salem’s Fork today to nudge the plan back into place, and this spell is going to make sure it stays there. Tonight the sisters and their lovers are going to find each other irresistible. Tonight seals the deal.’

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get the necklace, Xantippe,’ Maxine said, watching the cinnamon, too.

‘It’s all right, Maxine,’ Xan said. ‘You can try again tomorrow.’

‘Jude will help,’ Maxine said eagerly.

‘Jude will not help,’ Xan said. ‘Jude is finished. Mare has chosen Crash. It’s going to make things difficult, but I’ll simply have to adapt.’

‘No.’ Maxine drew closer. ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you, Jude will try harder. Don’t fire him or turn him into something, he’ll do better, really…’

The cream was ready, so Xan tuned Maxine out and picked up three glass beads strung on a silver thread, beads she’d separated temporarily from the see glass. ‘Deirdre, Elizabeth, and Moira,’ she said over the cream and the beads, as Maxine leaned still closer, pleading with her. ‘May your deepest passions be unleashed-’

‘Please, Xantippe,’ Maxine said.

‘- may your wildest fantasies come true-’

‘- he’ll try really hard-’

‘- may this night make you one with your true love-’

‘- Xantippe!’

‘- so I say, so be-’

Maxine moved to grab her arm and knocked the cinnamon box and the see glass into the cream.

‘- it,’ Xan said, and watched as the cream began to turn dark as the entire box of cinnamon sticks and the see glass sank to the bottom of the pan. She sighed and dropped in the Fortune sisters’ beads, too.

Maxine stood frozen as Xan turned to her.

‘That was bad, Maxine.’

‘I’m sorry, Xantippe.’

Xan looked down at the rapidly darkening cream, sighed again, and then took a glass rod from the table and fished out the see glass, letting the cream drip from it before she wiped it clean.

Maxine swallowed. ‘What’s going to happen now?’

‘Now?’ Xan poured herself a drink. ‘Now there’s going to be a hot time in the old town tonight.’

Maxine’s eyes got huge. ‘It’s going to burn down?’

‘Only figuratively. Go home, Maxine.’

‘What did I do?’

‘The spell was meant for the sisters only,’ Xan said. ‘That’s why there were only three beads. But you blundered. You knocked the whole see glass in, so now the entire town-’

‘What about Jude?’

‘Forget Jude. He’s finished.’

‘What do you mean, finished?’

‘Go home, Maxine.’

‘No, please!’

‘Home, Maxine.’

Maxine backed toward the paneled door, sniffing, her breath coming in mewing sounds. She stopped when she had it open. ‘Xantippe?’

Xan was still watching the dark cream bubble. It had been such an elegant spell, so beautifully subtle, so carefully aimed.

Now it was going to be a fuckfest. She put her forehead in her hand. ‘Xantippe?’

Xan raised her head, looked into Maxine’s terrified little eyes, and raised her hand.

‘No!’ Maxine screamed and dove through the door, letting the panel slam behind her.

Xan watched in the see glass as Maxine landed in a sobbing heap behind the Dumpster.

She was going to have to do something about Maxine. She turned back to the glass, decided that Salem’s Fork was not something she wanted to see tonight, and covered it with a velvet cloth before leaving the room.

Dee was still a block away from the inn when she spotted Danny’s Triumph at the curb. Absently rubbing at her right shoulder blade, she stopped dead in the street.

Should she go on up? More important, would he talk to her? Would he understand?

Dee didn’t even want to think about the scars Danny could inflict before he left. Or that she could inflict on him. What choice did she have, though? What choice had she ever really had?

Her pulse had speeded up again, and she had to lay a hand on her chest to help her breathe.

‘Danny?’

He was sitting on the white wicker swing on Velma’s front porch. Dee realized he was bent over, his head in his hands. She strode up the sidewalk.

He jumped to his feet. ‘Dee?’

His face looked drawn, his hair spiked from where he’d been tangling it in his hands. His smile, when it came, was lopsided and sweet. Dee ignored the flare of panic in her chest and kept walking. She met Danny at the bottom of the porch steps.

‘I went to your house,’ he said, giving her a quick, hard hug, ‘but you weren’t there. I’m sorry.’ Another hug, then he pulled back, running a hand down her face, as if apologies had to be tactile. ‘I really am. I wish I had a good excuse for taking off on you like that. My mother would have called me everything but a Republican for what I did.’

She fingered his hair back into a semblance of order. ‘It’s all right. I’m sorry I upset you.’

He dipped his head. ‘I guess I’m a little touchier than I thought. After what happened to my family, I’m afraid all New Age psychicbabble just sets me off.’

Well, good. Dee wouldn’t have wanted to feel too good before she had her come-to-Jesus meeting with him. Over his shoulder, the curtains shifted in the front window, and Dee caught a flash of Velma’s face. She was amazed the little woman had the restraint to stay in the house.

‘Would you like to take a walk?’ she asked Danny.

He took a wry look at the sky. ‘It looks like it’s going to rain.’

True. Dingy gray clouds scudded fast, and the air was thick with the smell of unsettled dust. Dee wished like hell it would just rain and get it over with.

‘Not yet,’ she said.

Are you a prognosticator, now?’

The clouds reflected in the cerulean of his eyes, like a portent of things to come. Dee tried not to shiver. ‘Nah. I just know the weather here. Come on.’

‘Will you go to France with me when we get back?’

He was smiling. She did her best to smile back. ‘Only if we can bring Lizzie, Mare, and Pywackt.’

‘All of them?’

‘Well, it wouldn’t be fair if I saw Montmartre and they didn’t. Besides, Py’s always had a hankering to see France. He collects Edith Piaf records.’

Danny shook his head. ‘Cool cat. Come on.’

Somehow they ended up hand in hand. Dee didn’t mind. She relished the feel of his callused fingers as they wound around hers. The sense of belonging. It was nice for a moment to just pretend she was doing nothing more than taking a walk with her honey.

It was Saturday. A chorus of lawnmowers serenaded the street. A couple of kids were skateboarding beneath the overgrown elm trees that lined the sidewalk. Pete Semple had his garage open and was hammering on something. Mrs Ledbetter hurried past with an armful of groceries. Nobody paid attention to Dee and Danny.