“Really? You’re always loaning money to friends,” Dagne said, and the Wiz at Money Management should know, since she’d borrowed money from Rachel in the past. “But now that you’re completely on your own, you’re going to have to take care of yourself first.”
“Fine,” Rachel said with a shrug. “Better money management. And I need to lose some weight.”
Dagne winced a little, looked at the salad bowl again. “That’s really a beautiful bowl,” she said. “It’s amazing how antiquey they can make these copies look.”
Wow. Apparently she did need to lose some weight. “You don’t have to act like you haven’t noticed,” Rachel said petulantly.
“Hey, I think you look terrific,” Dagne insisted. “Full figures are all the rage. But you know . . . it never hurts to drop a couple of pounds before you start a new project.”
So much for trotting out the double-fudge brownies for dessert. But it wasn’t like Rachel’s weight was anything new. Her dad mentioned it every other breath, Grandma kept sending diet books, Mom tiptoed around the subject like she thought Rachel might crumple into a crying heap. She’d steadily put on a few pounds each year until she was now about twenty pounds . . . okay, twenty-five. Or more . . . over what she ought to weigh. It wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t have two older sisters, Robin and Rebecca, who were both pencil thin and beautiful, and rich and married to wonderful men and had beautiful children surrounding them.
And here sat Rachel, their fat-ass little sister whose eyes were too far apart and her hair too wild to be stylish and her feet too big for really cool strappy high heels.
“I’m sorry,” Dagne said.
“Don’t be,” Rachel said sincerely. “I need something like finding a new job to plant the boot in my butt and make me do it. I’ll just have to stop buying the junk food Myron likes.”
Dagne frowned at that, picked up her fork, and stabbed her lasagna. “As to that,” she said sternly, “you should know that Venus and Neptune are on a collision course, and when those two worlds collide, look out, because you just might find the love of your life, and his name is so not Myron.”
“I know his name isn’t Myron.”
“I mean, the guy eats you out of house and home, he’s always borrowing your stuff and your money, and what do you get out of it?”
Rachel could feel her face flaming. “We’re friends,” she said, and hid behind a good slug of wine.
“You’re his friend. Myron just takes.”
“That’s not true. He’s been very supportive of my education when no one else would be, and he’s been a real trooper when it comes to Dad. He picked me up at the train station when I got back from the trip through hell, and he couldn’t have been more understanding. And look at all the stuff he’s given me.”
“I just think it’s weird to be friends with a guy who dumped you.”
“He didn’t dump me! It was mutual!” Rachel insisted. “And he’s just a friend, Dagne. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like men are banging down my door.”
“They would if you’d let them,” Dagne said, and that was the moment the debate started, because Dagne flashed a bright smile. “And when I’m through with you, girl, they’ll be lined up around the block.”
Rachel instantly knew what she was up to and waved a hand at her. “No way! That witch thing is your deal, not mine.”
“What have you got to lose?” Dagne asked cheerfully.
“No.”
“Come on,” Dagne pleaded.
“No.”
And on it went through dinner and another glass of wine, until Rachel was feeling pretty agreeable.
Dagne picked up the big canvas bag she carried everywhere she went and pulled some items from it, including a pink leather-bound spell book (purchased on eBay, Dagne proudly proclaimed, and seemed not to appreciate the irony of someone hocking her spell book); a silver chalice; a leather string tied to an amulet that looked, from where Rachel was sitting, like a peace sign; and several candles of varying sizes. “We really should be outside, you know, calling on Mother Nature and all that, but it’s too damn cold tonight,” she explained, and pulled out a clump of dirt. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter.”
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked as Dagne arranged her things on the dining room table.
“Making your spell, hello! A little magic to bring you peace and prosperity.”
“Can you do one for a knight in shining armor?” Rachel asked, all chipper now. “That would be way cool. Make him tall. With dark hair. And available.”
Dagne frowned at her lack of seriousness. “We can do a spell for love, but you have to be serious or it won’t work. White magic is all about belief.”
Rachel stifled another giggle. “Okay,” she said, and held up her hand. “I’m serious. I beeee-lieeeeeve.” Except that she couldn’t possibly believe it and burst into another fit of giggles.
“Rachel!”