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Just as we were approaching the house, Hazel pulled up in her dusty old Volvo. She emerged from the station wagon, looking très Globe chic in a sleeveless embroidered blouse, skinny jeans, and tan cowboy boots. The afternoon light caught in her medium brown hair, turning the paler streaks almost gold.
“Who’s that?” Chuck asked, staring at her as if mesmerized.
“My friend Hazel Marr,” I replied, even as I tried not to smile. I’d seen that look on men’s faces enough times to know what the glazed expression in his eyes probably meant. “She’s an artist in town. I thought you two knew each other.”
“Well….” The word trailed off, and he ran a distracted hand through his hair. “I guess I maybe met her in passing, but I never….”
Once again, his words disappeared into the ether, and he suddenly looked embarrassed, as if he’d just realized he was goggling at another woman while he stood next to the one he’d taken out to dinner just the night before.
If I’d had any designs on him, I might have been offended. As it was, I could only be glad that, for whatever reason, his eyes had suddenly been opened. Maybe that little half-intention I’d sent out on Hazel’s behalf a few days earlier was starting to work…only in a way I hadn’t imagined.
Apparently oblivious to our exchange, Hazel approached, one hand lifted in greeting. “Hi. I’m ready to be put to work.”
“Great,” I said, glad of the chance to jump in and get things moving. Chuck’s expression suddenly turned brisk, and I guessed he’d also realized that it was probably better to focus his attention on everything that needed to get done in the next couple of hours. “We’ve still got a lot of prep to do in the kitchen.”
The three of us headed inside, and Hazel and I got to work cutting up the mounds of fruit I’d bought and arranging it on a variety of platters and trays. Chuck disappeared, ostensibly to set out all the citronella torches, but I think he was mostly glad to have a reason to remove himself from our company. I’d caught the couple of sidelong glances he’d sent Hazel’s way, and I knew he was trying to be sure he didn’t make a fool of himself.
Of course, I knew any advances he made would probably meet with a friendly reception. Or at least, they would once she knew there was absolutely nothing going on between him and me.
“You two seem to be getting along really well,” she remarked as she expertly cut a papaya into neat slices.
“Oh, Chuck and me?” I said in an off-hand tone. “He’s a nice guy. I think we’ve both figured out we do better as friends than as anything more, though.”
Her hands went still then, knife resting on the cutting board. “You’re not backing off because of what I told you the other day, are you?”
“No,” I said hastily. “There’s just no spark, you know? He’s a great guy, but….”
I let the words trail off, figuring I’d said enough. Speculation flickered in Hazel’s greenish eyes, but I got the feeling she wouldn’t probe further. Also, I caught pale blue flickers in her aura before they disappeared, telling me she was relieved…even if she wasn’t about to say anything out loud. No doubt she was thinking that even if she didn’t have a future with Chuck, she at least wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of her friend dating a guy she was attracted to.
Time to stay silent, though. I had no doubt the universe would show its intentions regarding their relationship soon enough.
In the meantime, there were trays to carry out to the clearing and the rest of the setup to be completed. Once all that had been done, I disappeared into the guest bedroom to change into my outfit for the ritual — a pretty green gown I’d ordered from Holy Clothing while I was still back in L.A., vaguely medieval in style, with a low scoop neck and the sacred triple moon embroidered on the front.
Might as well look like a witch, after all.
I hung a pentagram set with moonstones around my neck, and put silver drops in my ears and a variety of silver rings on my fingers. No bracelets, because I always felt as though they got in the way when I was performing a ritual.
Chuck and Hazel were in the living room, waiting for me. As I walked in, her eyes widened slightly.
“Wow, Selena — you really look the part.”
“That’s the point, I suppose.” With both of them staring at me, I couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious. Tone light, I added, “After all, I have to be Instagram-ready, right?”
Hazel chuckled, and Chuck gave a very small shake of his head. “Speaking of which,” she said, “do you want me to film the festivities with my phone, or with yours?”
“You can use mine,” I said. In fact, I’d brought it downstairs with me for that very reason, and I handed it over to her. “The code is 8311.”
The two of them looked a little surprised that I’d just blurt out the access code to my phone like that, but honestly, I wasn’t worried about it. I knew I could trust them. Besides, I wasn’t one of those people who kept their entire life on their phone. I knew there wasn’t anything on my iPhone that was at all embarrassing, except maybe some old texts from my mother asking me whether I was dating anyone.
Unfortunately, the answer to that question had stayed the same for quite some time.
By that point, it was a little past seven-thirty. On the tickets I’d had Dave print up for me, I’d stated that the gates to the property would be opening at eight, but I had a feeling there would be a couple of early birds.
There always were.
I put on a smile, trying to ignore the nervous butterflies in my stomach. “Okay,” I said. “I think it’s showtime.”
9
