Chapter 5 #2
“No. No one here cursed you. No one in Elk Ridge practices that kind of magic. And for the record, I didn’t cast anything either.
” She scoffed at that. How else had he gotten her so docile?
“You should talk to Birdie ’cause she sees things the rest of us can’t.
Come on. Her shop’s open for another thirty minutes. If we go now, we can catch her.”
She didn’t know whether to blame magic or her sheer lack of options, but when he moved, she followed, obedient as his hound. As they passed the woman with the eagle, he asked, “It okay if I cut out a bit early, Sal?”
Sal waved him off. “I got it. Go on.”
The hound trotted after them as they set off, shoving his muzzle into Hayleigh’s hand, and she reflexively gave him a scratch of reassurance. Stephan caught it with a smile that curved the right side of his mouth up a little higher than the left. “You have a dog.”
“No, but our stable manager has one who’s usually hanging around.”
He spoke with a chuckle that came deep from his belly. “Ahhh, we’ve got ourselves a horse girl here.”
She flushed. “That makes it sound…prurient. I keep and ride horses, yes.” She tipped her chin up. “I’m actually a many-times dressage champion.”
“That’s the least surprising thing you’ve said since you walked into the tent.” His eyes sparkled. “So how big a champion we talking? They’ve got that in the Olympics, right?”
Her heart fell. “Not that big…My mother, though. She qualified.”
“Just qualified?”
“She got pregnant with my oldest sister, didn’t go.”
“Whoa, bummer.”
Hayleigh shrugged away the sentiment, which she had gotten used to hearing whenever she told her mother’s story. “She was fine with it. She wanted to be a mother more than anything.”
They passed through a delicate filigree archway covered in tiny white lights and into the main drag.
The heart of the festival had been built to resemble icy palace grounds.
When she’d visited last year, it had all looked a bit flat—paint flecked and fading, the style blocky and dated—but they’d redone everything.
The structures glowed and shone as if cut straight from the hearts of icebergs.
The effect momentarily distracted her from Stephan’s next question. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I said—she wanted it even more than the Olympics?”
“Even more than the Olympics. ‘The Olympics are just one event; motherhood’s a life’s purpose.’ ”
Hayleigh parroted the words she’d heard Luda say dozens of times over the years. You said a thing enough times, and regardless of whether it started out that way, it became truth by repetition.
Stephan shrugged his arms wide. “Never really believed we’ve only got room for one purpose.”
“Spoken like a man, but motherhood has a way of edging everything else out. Assuming you’re doing it right.”
She felt her mother’s words in her mouth again. If anything went wrong in the life of one of her friends who had a working mom, Luda always had a backhanded comment ready about how it never would’ve happened if their mother could have devoted her full time and attention to parenthood.
A rare frown creased Stephan’s face. “Not sure I can agree with that. Pretty sure my mom’s had so many purposes, she’s lost count.”
“Hmm” was all Hayleigh said, because it was clear from his tone of voice that they’d approached thin ice. From the hot bundle of mess that was Rowan, she expected that Liliana Midwinter’s parenting deserved at least a few critiques.
Stephan seemed to have turned out a bit better. Steadier, at least. Rowan had always given her the feeling of a downed power line arcing in whatever direction the discharged bursts of energy sent her.
But she let it drop, and they moved on.
Stephan had brought along the bag of peppermint popcorn, and as they strolled, he amused himself by tossing up kernels to catch them in his mouth.
One of them spun wildly to land on the ground, and Ozzy snuffled it up.
Once again, he shoved the bag in her direction, and this time she caved and nodded.
To her alarm, he soft-pitched it in her direction. “Catch!”
She scrambled backward. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sharing,” he said with an insufferably self-satisfied grin.
“Well, I didn’t mean like that!”
She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing it even when he tried to offer the bag the normal way.
With a shrug, he returned to his game. That he could be so flagrantly cheerful at this moment grated on her nerves.
Of course, it wasn’t his life that was currently spinning wildly off course.
He didn’t have a care in the world and was free to act it.
The smell of cabbage hit her stomach as a cloud of steam emerged in a puff from one of the food stalls.
Its structure was covered in decorative balls and eggs stitched or painted in vibrant geometric designs similar to those she remembered hanging in her grandparents’ house.
Some were the colors of winter—whites and blues accented with yellows—while others were the red, green, and gold of Christmas.
Her stomach panged as notes of butter and cream cheese overlaid the cabbage—they were serving Ukrainian varenyky—and her stomach’s feelings on the subject were loud enough for Stephan to notice.
“You want to stop and grab some? No line.”
Her stomach said yes, but “No” came out instead, followed by “All I want is answers.”
And then her brow furrowed at a familiar sight. The mistletoe from before was hanging from the edge of the Ukrainian food stall.
“Okay,” she said, pointing at it, “whose twisted little brain came up with that?”
He followed her finger up. “Mistletoe? The sandalwood tree, actually. Somewhere along the way, sandalwoods decided it wasn’t enough to parasite the roots of other trees—they’d suck the life right out of the branches. Along came mistletoe.”
She huffed. “I wasn’t asking for a botany lesson. Who thought it would be cute to send mistletoe to stalk me? Because it isn’t. Cute, that is.”
“Ah, that’d be Uncle Drew. He grows it on linden trees to pack an extra punch.”
“What?”
He swirled a finger as he spoke, as if drawing the answer. “Yeah, see, the linden tree’s sacred to love goddesses all over because of its heart-shaped leaves. Grow the mistletoe there, and it’s an extra good holiday matchmaker.”
“And it’s following me…why?”
“Must think you could use a little extra help in that department.” His eyes lingered on her, and she felt like a fly caught in webbing.
She flushed. “Well, it’s wrong.”
“Fair enough,” he said, dragging his eyes away.
When they finally made it out of the festival and into the night, he started to break toward the downtown main street, but she held up a hand.
“Wait a second, my car—I parked in a loading zone…” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. I knew I wouldn’t be here long, and there was literally nowhere else to park.”
He crossed his arms. “Hmm. How much of that boozy cocoa you drink?”
“Not that much. And I so cannot afford a tow right now.”
She hustled down the sidewalk. The boots she was wearing were intended more for cold than snow, and as she hit a slick patch, her feet nearly slipped straight out from under her. But a thick hand pressed into her back, preventing her fall.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling away. A warm imprint of Stephan’s fingers lingered on her skin.
“No problem,” he said. “Your footwear’s not exactly winter ready.”
She huffed. “I live at three hundred feet elevation in the middle of a busy downtown. On the rare occasion we do get snow, everything’s salted and plowed before I finish with my morning routine. Which is how I like it.”
“Not a big fan of snow, then?”
She snorted. “Why would I be a fan of liquid chaos?”
“ ’Cause a little chaos can be fun sometimes.”
“I disagree.” They reached her car, and she hesitated before glancing back at him. “Don’t suppose you have any insider tips on where I might find legal parking?”
“On a festival night?” Stephan snorted but then winked. “We’ve got a few local secrets.” He put a fingertip to the side of his nose. “You promise to keep this one?”
“Lead the way,” she said, gesturing to her passenger seat.
As she pressed the start button of her car, there was a familiar whirr and vroom, followed by a decidedly less familiar high, struggling whine and sputtering click. Then, total silence. The check-engine light flicked on.
“What? I just got you serviced!”
She tried again. Same result.
An unfamiliar smell enveloped them. Stephan sniffed the air. “Is that…candy canes?”
Anxiety propelled her from her seat. A plume of white, sweet mist billowed out of her exhaust to hang heavy. Sure enough, the sweet peppermint smell of candy canes clung to everything.
There was a prickling sensation on the back of her neck as from the woods there came a high, tinkling laugh. She moved to the hood of the car and threw it up just as Stephan climbed out to join her. Thick white liquid oozed from a loose fuel line.
“It can’t be,” she said.
Stephan leaned in, giving it a closer look as he swiped a finger through the sticky substance. He rubbed it between his fingers. “Yep, peppermint. Completely full of the stuff.”
“But I had half a tank of gas when I parked this car. Where the heck did it go?”
It was then she noticed that her trunk was partially ajar. She whipped back and threw it open, finding more of the liquified candy puddled in her open suitcase.
As she stared on in horrified dismay, Stephan settled beside her with his arms crossed.
“Yeah, I’d say you’re cursed all right.”