Shanna Swendson - Don't Hex with Texas

“There are times when I’m really glad you’re on our side,” I said, finishing my waffle.

Mom was waiting for us in front of the church, and I was glad Owen had insisted on coming, no matter how he felt, for she was dressed to the nines, all set to show off. We barely made it inside before she started introducing Owen to everyone as her daughter’s special friend who’d come all the way from New York to visit her. Owen was a good sport, even though it must have been his idea of hell to be surrounded by hordes of middle-aged and elderly women all fussing over him. I’d seen the kind of treatment he got when he went home for a visit, so I supposed he was used to it by now. At least here, no one was trying to throw daughters at him, since he was here to see me. Then again, my presence hadn’t exactly stopped the onslaught in his hometown at Christmas, though there was magic involved in all that mayhem.

I could almost feel the tension leave him when we got back in the car after church. “You held up nicely,” I said. “Many a strong man has faltered in the face of the women of the Cobb United Methodist Church.”

“Well, I have faced my share of dragons.” I knew from the quip that he was back to himself and might even be up to dealing with Dean and Sherri. I gave him directions to their house on the other side of town.

Sherri greeted us at the door in a skirt that could have doubled as a tube top and a tube top that could have doubled as a headband. I somehow doubted she’d been to church that morning dressed like that.

She wore her new bracelet, along with a matching necklace and earrings. She grabbed Owen as soon as he stepped through the door and kissed him on both cheeks, European style, missing both times so that her kisses landed on the corners of his mouth. “Welcome to my home!” she said as she ushered us in.

It looked an awful lot like my home—my parents’ home, that is. The same family pictures hung on the wall in very similar frames, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the furniture was my parents’ former living room set. She’d set the dining table with china that looked suspiciously like the wedding china my mom never used. I made a note to myself to check the china cabinet and count pieces when I got home.

Dean wandered in from the backyard, smelling of charcoal smoke, so I assumed he was grilling something for lunch. When he greeted Owen, he was a little cooler and more reserved than he’d been the night before. He’d probably figured out that his wife had spotted a potential upgrade. Surely he was used to that by now, though, considering she’d broken an engagement with another man to marry him.

His coldness flustered Sherri. She fluttered around, picking up a book of matches and going to light a candle sitting on a side table. I thought it looked a lot like one of the ones Rainbow was selling in the drugstore—the ones Owen couldn’t tolerate being around. I’d just opened my mouth to say he had allergies when Dean said, “Don’t light that thing.”

“Why not?” Sherri asked, still holding the lit match. “It’s aromatherapy that will promote a calming environment.”

“It makes the place smell like a cheap whorehouse, and it’s so strong it gives me a headache.”

“Like you’d know how one smelled,” she muttered, but she blew the match out. As soon as Dean returned to the back patio to tend his steaks, she said in a voice pitched higher with tension, “Can I get you something to drink? How about a beer? Or we have sodas or iced tea or some lemonade, I think.”

“Iced tea is fine for me,” I said, wondering if she’d made it herself. On second thought, that might not have been the best choice.

“Iced tea for me, too, thank you,” Owen said. He gave the distinct impression that he wished he could get away with wiping his mouth from where she’d kissed him.

Much to my relief, Sherri pulled a bottle of branded store-bought tea from her refrigerator, which meant it was probably safe to drink. As she handed glasses to each of us, she batted her eyelashes at Owen and said, “You can take your coat and tie off, if you like. We’re not formal here. But you do look awful handsome all dressed up like that.” She turned to me while he blushed bright red. “Katie, what on earth were you thinking leaving him behind in New York? Or do they grow men like this on trees up there?”

I bit my tongue to force back the impulse to say that actually, the men up there were root vegetables. I knew she’d probably take that the wrong way and say something that would really embarrass Owen.

Out of consideration for his exhaustion, I decided to deflect the subject. “That looks a lot like Mom’s china,” I said, wandering over to the dinner table as if to admire it.

“Yeah, it’s the same pattern,” she said. “I loved it so much when she had that wedding tea for me that I decided to get some for myself. Wasn’t I lucky that Murphy’s still had it in stock, all these years later?”

“It’s a classic pattern,” I said, in the most neutral response I could manage. I couldn’t help but wonder how recently she’d acquired the china from the burgled jewelry store—or if maybe there were a few place settings missing from Mom’s china cabinet. Then because I couldn’t help myself, I asked, “Oh, is that a new necklace? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

She stuck her chest out to display it better, and I heard Owen choke on his tea. “Do you like it? It goes with my new bracelet. And see, matching earrings, too.”

Now I was even more suspicious. Either Dean was selling drugs, she was selling her body, or something very, very fishy was going on.

Dean came back inside with a plate piled with steaks. “Steaks are ready,” he said. “How about the rest of dinner?”

Sherri fluttered her hands. “Ooh! I just have to get it on the table.” She ran to the kitchen and brought out take-out containers of slaw and baked beans. She dumped the beans into a bowl and put it in the microwave, then stuck a serving spoon in the slaw and put it on the table. I felt a little embarrassed that my family was being so very redneck in front of Owen, but then I glanced at him and saw that he didn’t seem to be particularly upset. Of course not. He embarrassed easily, but he wasn’t really a snob. Come to think of it, this was kind of the way he lived, eating out of take-out containers, though he did so in a multimillion-dollar Manhattan town house.

Oops, that meant I was the snob. I had to ask myself if I suspected Sherri because she really might be our greedy rogue wizard, or if it was because I was looking for an excuse to see her as my enemy. It was a tough call.

She got the beans out of the microwave and said, “Now, everybody take a seat. Sit wherever you want. We usually sit on the sofa and eat in front of the TV, so it’s not like we have usual seats at the table.”

Owen took a seat, and I sat across from him. Dean hovered with his platter of steaks. “Do you want yours more rare or well-done?” he asked Owen.

“Do you have anything somewhere in between?”

Dean laughed. “Right answer. I think that’s the way all of them are.” He sounded friendly enough now, so perhaps his earlier coolness had been about something else. More than likely, he and Sherri had had a spat soon before we got there. He served steaks to the rest of us, then took his seat. Sherri passed the side dishes around, then Dean said, “Dig in!”

Owen had managed to avoid the worst of the family interrogation so far. My parents must have been so happy to learn that I had a man, any man, that they weren’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth. My brother, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Dean barely waited until we’d started eating before he went on the offensive.