4. Hidden in Plain Sight #2
She owed Zani a phone call. In the game of international phone tag, she had been “it” far too many times.
She knew she was remiss but she was waiting for something remarkable to happen and nothing ever did.
Meanwhile, every call and letter Maida received from Zani was jam-packed full of epic adventures.
Their conversations had started to feel so one-sided.
Maida thought her quiet life probably seemed quite banal to her old college roommate.
It wasn’t only Zani she’d been putting off.
Maida owed her father a call back too. She’d been stalling for a couple of days now, letting her answering machine handle his queries about her well-being.
She had very different reasons for avoiding her father’s calls.
She simply wasn’t in the mood for another one of his lectures.
He never stopped pestering her to come back to the East Coast and get a proper job, preferably at Westabrook Enterprises.
She closed the notebook.
“Can I get another latte?” Maida asked Addy.
“No problemo,” Addy said.
“Thanks.” Maida stood to pay. She noticed the discarded candle that was still sitting on the counter next to the register. “What are you going to do with that candle?” she asked.
“Toss it in the trash.” Addy shrugged. “Why? Do you want it?”
Maida studied the hand-poured candle. The wooden wick had been lit and half of the wax was gone. A chunk of pink quartz stuck out from the remaining wax like a tiny island. The rose petals had all sunk to the bottom. But there was nothing overtly wrong with it.
“If you were really just going to throw it away, I’d rather use it up and recycle the glass when it’s done. One less thing in the landfill,” Maida confessed.
“Then it’s all yours.” Addy nodded congenially.
“Are you sure?” Maida felt a little awkward accepting it now.
“Totally!”
“Thank you, Addy.” Maida lifted the candle off the counter. She inhaled and closed her eyes. Rose, jasmine, and sandalwood. It smelled divine, if a bit strong.
“Let’s just check if it still works.” Addy pulled a matchbook from her apron and handed it over to Maida. “Go on, give it a go.”
Maida struck a match, but just as she was about to light the candle, Addy blew it out.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. Maida looked at her quizzically. “Did you set your intention?” Addy pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.
“Are you for real?” Maida squinted at her. She couldn’t tell whether she was joking.
“I only use Nocturnaturals products in my practice,” Addy admitted. “But it seems to me, if you’re going to do a love summoning spell, you may as well do it right.”
“I’m not interested in summoning a man.” Maida saw Addy’s brows fly up again and answered the unasked question. “Or a woman, or anyone. I’m perfectly content on my own.”
Though she could do with some companionship, she thought.
Maida struck another match and lit the candle.
“Weird. But whatever floats your boat.” Addy turned back to the espresso machine. “Did you want almond or oat milk in that latte?”
“Almond,” Maida replied. “Can you watch my table while I use the restroom?”
“Sure thing.” Addy gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Great chatting with you, Maida!”
This brief conversation was the most words they’d exchanged in the entire two years they’d been neighbors.
Maida wasn’t particularly worried about anyone stealing her sketchbook. She’d stashed her wallet in her pocket. But as she passed by her table again, she set the candle down and slipped the necklace over her head. It looked much better now that she’d dried it off and brushed away the loose sand.
As she stood washing her hands in the tiny restroom, a silvery flash in the mirror caught her eye.
Every time she looked at the locket, it seemed to get shinier.
Impulsively, she reached for a paper towel and pumped some soap onto it.
Cautiously she dabbed at the tarnish on the chain, careful not to rub too hard lest she damage the finish.
The tarnish seemed to melt away. In a matter of moments, the thick chain was a chrome-bright, shiny silver.
She studied the sinuous rope-like design. It was unique, unlike any chain she had seen before.
Encouraged by her success with the chain, Maida went to work on the locket next.
The scaly material that had seemed like cement earlier this morning dissolved like sugar.
After only a few swipes and a rinse with plain tap water, she could see the engraved detail on the front of the locket.
An old-fashioned loopy script letter “L” encircled by butterflies and flowers.
Maida turned the locket over. The back was blank.
She cleared the last tiny bits of debris and sand from the hinge, using the corner of a paper towel. It still took several attempts of pressing the latch before the mechanism released. With the tiniest creak that sounded almost like a sigh, the locket sprang open, revealing the image inside.
Much to Maida’s surprise, the locket did not contain an image of a person.
It contained a painting of a house. An extraordinarily tiny, perfectly preserved, wonderfully detailed house.
Not a real one, she thought. The house in the image was too fanciful, too magical, to exist in real life.
It was more like something out of a storybook, a fairy tale, or perhaps a dream. Her curiosity was piqued.
As she made her way back to the table, Maida studied the house some more. It seemed familiar, yet foreign, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of having seen it before.
A towering turret stood watch in one corner and a large wrap-around porch hugged the whole facade.
An especially peculiar feature was the eye-shaped window placed in the eaves.
When Maida tilted the locket, the eye appeared to wink at her.
And when she angled it in another direction, a wisp of smoke seemed to waft out of the stone-faced chimney.
It looked so real she could almost smell it.
What an artistic coup! The craftsmanship was spectacular.
Undoubtedly, the owner was missing it.
Maida was so lost in thought that she almost tripped over the outstretched legs of the man now seated in her chair at her table. He was flipping idly through her sketchbook.
She shot an accusatory look at Addy, who smiled and fanned herself lustily.
“He’s hot!” Addy mouthed.
Maida rested a hand on her hip and frowned.
The man looked up. “Hi there. Care to join me?” His voice was deep and silky, seasoned with a southern drawl.
Not the lowbrow type. His was the voice of a man who went sailing and wore tennis whites in expensive country clubs.
That voice ordered an Old Fashioned cocktail, and she hoped, tipped well for a good pour.
She couldn’t deny that his voice was appealing, even if Southern gentlemen were not her usual cup of tea.
She hadn’t had tea in a long, long time.
She looked at him for real now. Technically, Addy was correct. The man was handsome. Not just ordinarily handsome. There was something almost unnatural about how good-looking this guy was. She almost couldn’t make herself stop staring at him.
“Excuse me? That’s my seat and my notebook.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” The man gestured to Addy. “Your friend said I could sit here.” He turned his attention back to her sketchbook. “These pictures are fantastic. Did you draw them?”
Maida stared at his hand still resting on her notebook. “Please stop touching my things?”
“Right. I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just that you left the book open.
It was so tantalizing, who could resist?
” The man pushed his seat back. He stood quickly and repositioned the chair, holding it out for her.
She felt compelled to sit down, if only to reclaim her space.
The seat was cool, considering how recently it had been vacated.
“I’m Cormac?,” the man said affably. He helped himself to the chair opposite hers. “Do you come here often?”
His attention ought to feel flattering, but something about it just didn’t feel real. Men like Cormac usually looked right through women like her. He had to know how handsome he was.
She attempted to observe him as if he was just another specimen to sketch in the naturalist’s notebook she brought along on her morning walks. An object composed of shadow and light.
Cormac had long-ish, streaky blond hair, and deep-set sapphire blue eyes.
His sharp jawline contrasted with soft, full lips.
There was something almost mathematical about the composition of his face.
The cleft stamped in the dead center of his chin highlighted the unusual, improbable symmetry of it.
It reminded her of those mirror effect pictures that showed you what you’d look like with two “good” sides. An optical illusion.
He was fit, too. Maida could also tell that the framework beneath his clothing enviably combined lean and muscular traits.
He was lithe, like a surfer or a skateboarder.
But his sleek black hoodie, pre-faded jeans, and immaculate sneakers all looked brand new.
Far more expensive than the worn-out, sun-bleached hand-me-downs the local groms wore.
She imagined he’d move like he was on wheels. Step, step, glide.
“Now it’s your turn to tell me your name.” Cormac directed a megawatt smile at her. Klieg lights. The whiteout effect washed all the other thoughts from her mind.
She blinked and had to look away. He was far too much for her. Perhaps he was an actor. Or a movie star. But not one she’d ever seen before.
“Can I…help you with something?” Maida was still seeing solar spots when she stared down at her sketchbook on the table. She closed it with one finger.
“Well, I’m not from around here.” Cormac leaned towards her. “And I was hoping you could tell me a good place to get dinner. Or better yet, maybe you could show me?”