The wine was stored in an adjoining room. I scanned the boxes, searching for the merlot, eager to be on my way.
“Hey, Elle.”
A young woman’s head popped around one of the stacks, and I nearly had my second heart attack of the night. I stumbled back a few steps, bumping into a rack of pinot grigio. The bottles rattled, threatening to crash to the ground.
“Zoe, you scared the hell out of me!”
Zoe glanced guiltily at her phone. A series of chimes rang from her puzzle game. She grimaced and held up a finger, then she used it to swipe diagonally across the screen. The game chimed again before she closed the app. “Sorry! New high score.”
“What are you doing down here?” I asked between gritted teeth.
Zoe scrunched her nose and climbed out from behind the boxes. She hobbled a few steps, making it obvious she’d been down there for a while and her legs had fallen asleep.
“Hiding. I haven’t had a moment to myself all day, and I just needed a minute—or twenty.” She yawned and slumped against a post.
I nodded in solidarity. Zoe looked bone-tired. Her brown ponytail was wilted, her outfit wrinkled. As a nursing student at Thornbridge, she often burned the candle at both ends, working long hours as a server, followed by studying into the early hours of the morning.
“Well, you’re lucky Angela is preoccupied with a new trainee. She’d go on the warpath if she caught you hiding down here.”
Zoe tucked her phone away. She stretched like a cat then cast me a conspiratorial look. Her voice lowered to a whisper even though we were the only ones in the storage room.
“Have you seen the new guy?”
“No, I just got here.”
She fanned her face, eyes sparkling with gossip. “He’s hot, Elle. Like, drop your fork so you can watch him pick it up hot.”
A laugh bubbled in my throat, and I nudged her in the side with my elbow. “You’re so cheesy. I doubt he’s that hot. Besides, I thought you were obsessed with Jake the bartender.”
Zoe sighed with longing. “Jake doesn’t give me the time of day, so of course I’m in love.”
“You have an unhealthy view on men. They make books for you.”
“At least I have a view. If you got your head out of your so-called books long enough, you might get yourself a boyfriend. You’re a monk, Elle. All you do is study and walk around with headphones attached to your head listening to podcasts.” She tossed me a teasing grin. “They make books for you.”
“Then I’ll be too busy reading them to meet anyone. Vicious cycle.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. The truth was a little more complicated. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my stack of novels keeping me warm at night; it was that dating was hard when you were a witch. There wasn’t an app for that, so I had to build all my relationships on secrets and lies.
Pretty sure they say not to do that in the books.
Even my friendship with Zoe made me feel a little guilty. Though, she had accepted all my weird quirks and odd-smelling oils, so she’d probably be fine with the rest. I wouldn’t put it past her to use my spells to her advantage. Next thing you knew, Jake would be following her around like a puppy.
I’d better wait a bit longer before telling her the truth.
“Let’s go, Casanova, before we’re both caught loitering. You can help me open these bottles.” I hefted the box of wine and headed back toward the kitchen, where we loaded up a pair of trays and took our first spin around the reception room.
The guests arrived to soft music piped in from overhead speakers, while in the corner, a band did a sound check and prepared their instruments. The cheese and fruit display covered a circular table like an appetizer mecca, and next to it was the shining attraction. Standing almost four feet tall was a giant ice sculpture emblazoned with the university’s crest. It had probably taken the mechanical lift to get the thing up on the reinforced platform. It towered like a crystal beacon in the room, surrounded at its base by ice clamshells full of shrimp and cocktail sauce.
Moving through the room, I recognized a few professors from the university and offered them glasses of wine and a polished smile. My tray slowly emptied as I stepped out onto the terrace to serve the guests enjoying the night air.
Twinkling lights illuminated the stone patio that looked out over the golf course. Potted ferns swayed gently in the breeze. I spotted the guest of honor holding court near the outside bar. Professor Laura Roberts taught history at the university, and I was currently enrolled in one of her classes. She’d recently won a prestigious award, and tonight’s celebration was in recognition of her achievements in the field.
Professor Roberts was a trim woman with high cheekbones and a short bob-style haircut that gleamed white under the lights. Known for her apple-red lipstick and long-winded lectures, she also had a slew of accolades. She was well-traveled and spoke several different languages—even a few of the dead ones.
I watched her sip a glass of champagne, delaying the climax of a story that held her group of onlookers in rapt attention. A chorus of laughter rang out as I approached the bar and set down my tray. Zoe joined me, leaning an elbow on the bar top. She flashed the bartender her most tempting smile.
“Hey, Jake, can I get a strawberry daiquiri and a whiskey on the rocks?”
