Page 13 of Christmas Magic

With a grunt and pop of joints, Roberta stood. She looked like a puppy expecting to be abandoned at the local animal shelter.

If her demeanor hadn’t brightened by the time they reached Black Cat Antiquities, Cora would give her another talking-to.

“More coffee, sir?”

Tamping down a flare of impatience, Dennis drew his focus from Cora and her plump friend: Roberta, according to the files he’d been given. The teenage waitress, holding a carafe, stood beside his table.

“No coffee, thanks. I’m finished.”

“Would you like any bakery items to go? Maybe some Christmas cookies? We can box up an assortment.”

“Just the check.” He hadn’t meant to sound brusque, but he really wanted the waitress to go away.

“Here you go.” The young woman put the bill on the table, along with a flyer. “In case you’re interested, there’s a holiday craft fair on Wednesday night.”

He nodded but didn’t bother to read the paper.

As the waitress walked away, his gaze returned to Cora and Roberta before he pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. More than enough money to cover the cost of his java and slice of Boston Cream pie, but he wasn’t going to wait for the change.

Anticipation rippled down his spine, and he avoided making eye contact as the two women headed toward him, on their way out. The next few moments were critical. He had, after all, come to the bakery to observe Cora and Roberta, but he also had a goal to complete.

Cora was essential to his plans for Lucian and Molly.

As he rose from his table, he couldn’t resist a smile, because he knew more about Cora than she could ever imagine—including that she’d won first place in a baking contest a few years ago, what brand of laundry detergent she preferred, and the names of her younger lovers.

He left the flyer. No point taking it. He already knew about the craft fair. He’d known for days.

Now, to ensure that Cora went to it.

Cora headed toward the front of the bakery, aware of Roberta following close behind. The premises seemed even more crowded than when they’d arrived earlier. The line of people waiting to be seated stretched out the propped-open door.

Just before Cora reached the foyer, she heard their waitress calling: “Mrs. Johnson.”

Cora turned to face the young woman, who extended her hand. “Here’s your change.”

“Please. Keep it,” Cora said.

The girl beamed. “Wow. That’s a generous tip. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” Cora’s first job had been waitressing at Mistletoe Diner in Cat’s Paw Cove; a place that unfortunately had closed years ago. Waiting tables was hard work. At Christmastime especially, she liked to tip extra.

“I forgot to give you this. We’re giving them to all of our customers.” The girl handed over a sheet of paper. “Happy holidays.”

Cora glanced down at the flyer.

Roberta peered in beside her. “Oh, yes, the annual craft fair—”

Jostled by someone walking past, Cora bumped against Roberta.

With an indignant gasp, she looked up and locked gazes with a brown-haired man. A handsome fellow, wearing a leather jacket, but for some reason, his gaze sent a chill rippling through her.

Who was he? She’d remember having met him before.

He touched her arm. As his jacket sleeve shifted, she glimpsed part of a tattoo—a snake—on his inner wrist. “Sorry.” Somehow, his tone and grip reassured rather than unsettled her. “Are you okay, Ma’am?”

“I am.” While he looked a bit intimidating, at least he had manners. “How about you, Roberta?”

“Yes. Fine, but you really should be more careful, young man.”