Chapter Five
Chapter Five
T he Freya Grove Historical Society house was three and half stories of brick and mysticism and located on the corner of Emory and Third. The Queen Anne–style house boasted a high five-story circular tower on the east side of the house that looked out toward the ocean and a wraparound porch. More than once, Gus had been told that he basically lived in a Gothic dreamhouse. He, always the historian, liked to believe that he lived in a castle by the sea filled with spells and books. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t rid the romance from his soul.
Gus parked in front of the house, immediately noticing an older person pacing in front of the glass door. He got out of the car and walked up the stairs, a mixture of expectation and anxiety building within him. Once he got closer and saw the designer animal print with the matching purse and charm necklace, Gus blinked. It was his ma, Ms. Anais Dearworth, who waited on the porch, dressed in her usual animal-print sweater, dress pants, and high-heeled boots.
“Surprise, darling,” she cooed. Ma opened her arms and gave him a tight hug. Her perfume, the familiar scent of blooming jasmine and orchids, kicked up his nerves a fraction.
“I thought you were in Las Vegas,” he said. He hugged her back, then let her go.
Ma lifted a perfectly plucked brow. “I told Diane I was in Vegas, but I was really in Atlantic City. You know how I love a good misdirection.”
Her metallic makeup made her golden-brown skin pop. Her dyed ash-blond hair clustered in short curls around her slender face. Ma loved to be dressed in the color gold, claiming that she wanted to look like a walking award. She might have been barely five feet, but she carried herself with the confidence of a six-nine basketball player.
Gus kissed her cheek and then invited her into the historical society building.
Ma’s eyes swept over the foyer and waiting room.
She gave him a stiff grin. “Well, it’s clean.”
“It’s not a luxurious hotel room, but it has history,” he said.
“Hmm. Are you still renovating?”
He paused at her polite tone. If the place didn’t have room service or an indoor pool, Ma didn’t want to stay there for long. The lady magician only stayed in four-star hotels or rented out vacation houses.
Gus pointed to the hallway. “We’ve finished with the exhibition area, and we’ve expanded the library on the second floor. I’m hoping to offer classes and lectures about local history.”
Ma gave another grin. This one seemed tighter. “Ah, yes. I forgot about your hobby.”
Gus held back his usual response. Ma, it’s not a hobby. It’s a job. The last thing he wanted to do was sound like a whiny child. Ma loved to label his current career as a local historian and speaker as a fun little hobby, as if he hadn’t worked hard or taken countless hours of training just to stand here in this position. To Ma, his steward job was a break from his real life.
It was a distraction.
She reached up and picked a piece of lint from his vest.
“Diane texted me you went to the festival. Did you have a nice time?”
“It was fine,” he said easily.
Ma rolled her eyes. “Just fine. You’re being nice. I bet it was boring. Did you have fun?”
Gus pressed his mouth into a thin line. Oh, he had fun. He drank that apple cider and temporarily lost his damn mind. He reverted right back into Good-Time Gus. He’d seen Sirena being heckled by that carnival barker, and something protective snapped within him.
Gus wanted to shut that guy down and shut him up. He looked at Sirena and saw the relief that shimmered in those eyes of hers when he stood by her side. The barker had some nerve, commenting about her or anyone else’s size. Gus wanted to win her every single prize in that booth but restrained himself to putting the barker in his place. His show of magic must have worked because Quentin texted Gus an update before he left the festival. The balloon pop ceased to have any more complaints for the rest of the afternoon. Even now, as he stood next to Ma, his palm itched with his lingering enchanted energy.
It truly felt delightful to use his magic to save the day and impress the witch. Gus shoved that thought out of his brain. Fun time was over. Now it was time to get back to serious matters.
Gus decided to redirect the conversation toward a topic Ma would love to talk about for hours.
“How’s the show?” he asked.
Ma clapped her hands together. “It’s going wonderfully. The producers are finalizing our anniversary show in January. We’re going to London and performing at the Savoy Theater for a limited-time engagement. Your father’s trying to find his passport. He’s so proud.”
“I bet he is.” The patriarch of the Dearworth family, Peter Dearworth, who performed through constant discrimination and open theft of his magical acts, would have a great time. Gus was looking forward to seeing Ma and Pop taking pictures in front of Big Ben and the London Eye.
Ma beamed. “Can you believe it? The Dearworth name on the marquee in the West End.”
“Diane’s performed on the West End,” Gus reminded her lightly.
Ma playfully tapped his arm. “Yes, I know that, but she wasn’t doing magic . She was acting! I do have to say the spotlight loved her.”
Gus nodded in agreement. Diane had stolen the show and received a standing ovation with her memorable turn as the scheming fae Puck. The energy from the crowd had been so electric that Gus’s skin hummed all the way to the airport. There was nothing like the energy you get from an attentive audience.
Ma’s copper-shaded eyes grew sharp as she assessed him.
“Tell me you don’t miss it,” Ma challenged. “Tell me you don’t miss that feeling.”
Gus stilled. Ma wasn’t wrong. He thought back to the balloon-pop game and Sirena. Exhilaration flowed through his bloodstream at the recent memory. He could still hear how her breath hitched and see the blush on her cheeks when he performed just for her. Only her. Gus relished watching those divine brown eyes of hers widen with amazement. Sirena had been the best audience. She was so responsive, leaning forward so she could see more of his magic. His body burned under her attention. He hadn’t dazzled her with historical facts and population data, but with his natural magic.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said.
A light of triumph lit up her eyes. Ma loved being right the same way seagulls loved stealing food from humans. “You’ve still got the hunger. I can see it. You know what would help?”
“I know,” Gus said reluctantly.
Ma studied him. He knew the answer. “The hunger” was what Ma called that desire to perform for audiences. The only way he knew how to keep that hunger at bay was to get up onstage and shine. That’s why Gus had given the speech at the conference, to feed that desire and to find a new path away from his past. He needed to find something to feed his soul and leave him satisfied.
Ma caught his eye with a sharp look. “Have you found your replacement yet?” she inquired.
Gus forced himself to look at her, not backing down from her fierce glare. “I’m making progress.”
He had invited a few prospects from the local college to come and interview for the steward position. Still, he wouldn’t be able to hand over the society until the new year. The position was a two-year commitment in Freya Grove, and that requirement often made people turn down the offer.
“So, you think you’ll be done with your… progress by December?” she ventured, her voice tinged with impatience. Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “If you can’t find anyone, just lock up the house and time the lights to come on at random. I’m sure no one will notice you’re gone.”
Gus bristled. “Someone will notice.”
Ma wiggled her fingers in the air. “Use a little charm to bewitch the house while you’re gone. It’s harmless fun.”
There was a long, brittle silence between them. Good-Time Gus would have emailed his resignation letter to the committee and handed the keys to Diane before he left town. He would’ve done exactly what Ma suggested, because that’s what he did. But he didn’t want to be that man anymore. He couldn’t just lock up the society and abandon his responsibilities.
The society held not only the history of Freya Grove, but also countless magic artifacts that could cause trouble if they fell into the wrong hands. He needed a replacement who would protect the magic from any harm or negligence. He was done being careless with precious things and he was going to be a better man.
“I can’t hand the keys over to just anyone,” he said finally.
“Yes, who will mind the antiques?” she quipped tersely.
Gus paused. Huh. Ma’s comments were sharper than usual today.
“I know you didn’t come over here to remind me of my life choices,” he said.
Ma checked her nails, trying her best to look casual. “You’ve heard about Jess?”
“Yes. Di told me.”
“She’s getting married. You know, she invited me.”
“Oh. That’s kind of her.”
Ma gave him a withering glare. “There’s nothing nice about this invite. Did Jess hire a chaos gremlin as a wedding planner or is there another motive behind this niceness?”
Gus shrugged. Who was inviting all the Dearworths to the wedding?
Ma continued talking, her tone doubtful. “I’m sure she’s just putting on a show. Watch the brokenhearted songstress find true love after fleeing a loveless marriage to a Dearworth magician.”
He stared at the wall, his chest churning with hot frustration. It wasn’t a loveless marriage for me. Of course, if he showed any emotion to Ma, she’d assume that he was still in love with Jess. Yeah, no.
“I had to call in a lot of favors to take care of that video.”
Gus glanced at the wall clock. It took Ma less than twenty minutes for her to mention the video. He flinched inwardly, a feeling of humiliation coating his skin like soap residue. Yes, reality show cameras and microphones picked up everything. They picked up the painful moment when Gus told his wife that he loved her and she said nothing. The video was only up for a day before Ma sent a cease-and-desist letter to get it taken down. He watched his heart get broken repeatedly for twenty-four hours.
Love could break your soul if you let it.
Ma pressed her hands together. “You should attend the wedding. Show the world that you’ve moved on.”
“You want the cameras to see that I’ve moved on,” he said.
“Have you?” Ma shot back.
“I have moved on,” he said.
She raised her painted brows to her hairline. “Then why haven’t I met anyone?”
Because I haven’t met anyone who wants to be with this version of Gus.
Truthfully, there hadn’t been anyone worth bringing home, and it was his fault. His previous reputation as a fun-loving magician had undermined his goal to settle down for real.
His dates wanted to be with Good-Time Gus, who popped bottles until dawn and turned ice cubes into faux diamonds with a spell. However, when regular Take a Melatonin Gummy Before Bed Gus showed up to the date instead, he was lucky if he got a good-night text. He’d come to the Grove to escape from his past, but he was now bound by it.
“I like being alone,” he said.
Ma scoffed. “Nonsense. What about your cat?” Gus furrowed his brow.
Ma pointed toward the bookshelf in the waiting room. “I know I’m not imagining it.”
Cinder, the black cat in question, lay supine by the bell jar of seashells, scanning the room for anything that interested her. She blinked lazily and didn’t move, even under the glare of Ma. Oh right. Sometimes, he forgot he was now a cat dad. Gus pressed two fingers into his left eyelid, then dropped his hand. “Cinder’s not technically mine.”
“You just left your door open, and a cat just walked in?” Ma glowered.
“My neighbor decided he wasn’t a cat person, so… he put her out on the street,” he said.
Ma’s mouth dropped open to her chest. She was a major animal lover and often donated money to the local shelter. She struggled for words, but eventually found three. “What a chump.”
“You’re not wrong,” he added.
It was nice having Cinder slinking around the front stairs and in his top-floor apartment. Visitors found her a welcome addition to the building, and the groundskeeper, Mr. Mac, always had a pocket of treats for the curious black cat.
Ma snapped her fingers, her nails glittering in the overhead light. “See! You have a cat.”
“Okay.”
She took out her phone from her purse. “That’s proof that you don’t want to be alone. If you can love a cat, then you can love again. You can live again. Let me set you up on a date.”
A stony knot formed in his stomach. This well-meaning offer was a step too far and he didn’t even want to imagine the poor, clueless woman Ma would set him up with for the wedding.
“Ma,” he said firmly. “I’ll find a date.”
Maybe he could ask Beryl if she had a sister who was single and enjoyed weddings.
Ma pursed her lips at him, then let out a sharp breath. “Okay. I’ll say one more thing, and then I’m done.”
She fiddled with her phone, tapping a few buttons; then she faced Gus. Her eyes grew dewy, and she gave him a look that made his chest feel like it would burst. It was the same upset look that she gave him when he told her that he was going on hiatus and leaving the stage.
“I find it hard to believe that you’ll stay here, watching the world go by. I remember how you used to be and… I worry about you finding your way back.” Gus opened his mouth to protest, but Ma shushed him. “Take a moment when you’re cataloging dusty top hats and stale books to consider what you’re doing with your life and if it’s worth your time. Think about the people you’ve left behind, wondering if you’re coming back. Think of your friends and fans who keep asking about you.”
He remained silent. Fans found recordings of his performances online and emailed him, thanking him for bringing magic and fun into their lives for a moment.
“What do you think I do here?” he asked, frustration bleeding into his voice.
She gave him a guarded glance. “I don’t know, but I know it’s not what you’re meant to do. You are a Dearworth. You belong on the stage performing magic .”
The walls trembled as Ma’s voice broke on the last word. Cinder stirred from her place and hopped down to the floor. He was a Dearworth magician until the last stars burned out in the sky. Her face fell, and she took a second to compose herself. A twinge of regret went through his chest. Come on. Tell her who you are. Gus was tempted to sit her down and show her the video on his phone.
To show her what he made of his new life in the Grove. To show who he was now.
He stopped himself. It seemed Ma wasn’t interested in listening to anything unless it had to do with Gus rejoining the Dearworth act. Since he stopped performing for large audiences, Ma was always worried that his underused powers would diminish over time. No, he couldn’t tame a tiger anymore, but he could convince the seagulls not to steal food from tourists.
Gus learned in the Grove that small acts of magic were just as important as the grand performances; both brought joy to those folks who needed to feel wonder.
Her phone beeped a warning chime. “That’s my ride; it’s a minute away. I’m going to surprise Diane. We’re going out for dinner. I’ll be back after Halloween. Hopefully you’ll have an answer for me about ending this hiatus.”
He couldn’t keep avoiding the issue. Stand up and tell her.
“Ma, I’m not rejoining the show.” His voice was steady.
She stared at him for a beat, then smiled tightly, betraying nothing of her displeasure. Her tone was soft but held a hidden edge when she said, “Give it time.”
Those three words held so much meaning, but Gus knew from her tone that Ma meant one thing: Don’t do anything you will regret.
She said those exact words when it came to getting married to Jess, and he hadn’t listened to her then. Apprehension, like slick oil, oozed through him. Ma blew him a kiss, then walked out the front door and down the stairs. Gus stood in the doorway and watched Ma climb into the sleek black car and depart. He felt Cinder wind herself around his legs and didn’t move.
Since he made his first tricycle disappear from the backyard at four years old, Gus leaned into that idea of being unpredictable. He lived by the words of the first Dearworth magician in the family: If they’re going to stare at you, you might as well give them a show.
So, he gave them a show. He leaned into his persona Good-Time Gus and gave the audience an enchanting time. He had been the hype man for years on end, flirting with glamorous women and hanging out with A-list celebrities.
When Gus accidentally conjured a hundred rabbits in a casino lobby to the horror of the guests, Ma had insisted that he finally settle down. Ma Dearworth, with her unmatched skills and illusions, wasn’t to be fooled with, so Gus went about trying to “settle down.” But he’d been Good-Time Gus for so long, he struggled to turn off that persona when he went on dates.
Gus met Jess, an up-and-coming singer, at a family barbecue, and they immediately clicked. Jess, draped in paisley print and with flowers in her hair, had a mesmerizing voice like a siren and thought he was fun. They were struggling to take their careers to the next level and were aware that people loved the idea of a showmance—a fake romance. Even though he and Jess weren’t in passionate love, they were in serious like. Back then, he thought that feeling was enough for them to have a marriage of convenience.
For Gus, like was safer than love, and it didn’t have the power to break his heart.
They got married in a tiny wedding chapel on a weekday and became the hit couple of his family’s reality show. The audience adored their love story, and ratings soared to record numbers. Ma was excited that he finally got his act together, and made plans to add Jess to their tour. Everything was going great; they had brand collaborations and sponsorship deals and were looking to become the next big lifestyle brand. Then, one day, while Gus was wondering what flowers to bring home to his wife, a wave of terror washed over him.
He didn’t just like his wife; he was in love with her.
Gus decided he was going to put on a show and dazzle her with his newly realized love.
He made them a candlelit dinner and told her the whole truth, while presenting a dozen bouquets of red roses. She visibly paled, stood up, and left their shared apartment. Two weeks after Gus admitted his true feelings to Jess, she served him with divorce papers. The video came out and slowed their proceedings to a crawl.
“I should’ve known better than to marry a good time,” she had said gently at their divorce hearing. “I should’ve left when I had a chance.”
She had sounded regretful, as if she wished she hadn’t agreed to be his wife.
After the divorce, Gus continued performing, but the act grew stale and became exhausting. Gus needed to find a new role. Currently, he relished his job as the historical society steward, but there was that desire to play, to dazzle, that remained embedded in him. The hunger was getting worse, and it seemed nothing he did would satisfy its need. Give it time. How much time would it take for him to become the man—carefree, unbothered, and blessed—he wished to be?