When Winnie had found out about Twyla Faye, she’d helped Calla adjust to her adopted talking iguana.
It had taken some getting used to, all this witch magic and talking Cabbage Patch dolls and sometimes talking animals here in Paris. But nowadays, it was no big deal when Nash made his bull Bitty voice his thoughts, or when Icabod sat with them while they all had a cup of tea with Winnie outside in the back beside her amazing gardens.
Calla reached over and chucked him under the chin just as Twyla Faye settled near her feet. “Hey, Ic! How’s things?”
“Calla! Good to see you.” He paused then asked, “Wait. Do I smell lizard? Aw, hell no! Did you bring that crazy excuse of a purse with you? Because I’m warning you, werewolf, if she makes one wrong move, just one, and I end up on top of another garden gnome in a humiliating pose straight out of the pages of the Kama Sutra—at a tea party, no less—I’ll turn that nutbag into something that eats iguanas for dinner!”
Yeah. That had been bad.
Calla winced, remembering how the old order of witches from the Bluebonnet Society had found Icabod riding that poor lifeless gnome as though it were a wild mustang he was trying to break.
“Aw, c’mon, Icabod. Can’t we let bygones be bygones? She apologized. Didn’t you, Twyla Faye?”
“I’m sorry, were ya’ll speakin’ to me—the purse?” she drawled, lifting her little head and giving them her tail.
“You listen up, you three-eyed, spastic wonder! Give me one little reason, and I’m going all Snapped on you!”
Calla clapped her hands then put a finger over Icabod’s unmoving lips. “Okay, all familiars are hereby ordered to play nicely. Twyla Faye? Off to your appropriate corner.” She gave her a scoot with her hand, sending the lizard to the far end of Winnie’s big bedroom. “Now, no more arguing. I’m here to find a dress. Behave. Both of you.”
Icabod cackled. “So I heard. Around these parts, they say you need that dress for the big coital hootenanny with Nash tonight.”
Calla flopped on the edge of the bed, blowing her hair out of her face. “Who in this town doesn’t know about tonight?”
“Not a soul. Well, maybe old Mrs. Corwin, but only by default because she’s deaf. Though, she did enter the beer-for-a-year raffle. I mean, because—beer.”
She eyed him with suspicion, still unclear about whether he could actually see her. “Did you enter the raffle, too, Ic?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t drink or eat. But hand to the goddesses, if I could, you can bet your sweet, sweet backend I would.”
A glance at the bedside alarm clock told her she needed to get moving, but instead she lingered, her thoughts torn about her choice to wait and tell Nash tonight instead of before they ever made it to the bedroom.
“Nervous?” Icabod asked.
She leaned in and whispered, “Between you and me?”
“Like I’m going somewhere fast in this condition?”
Calla laughed, pulling at the frayed hole in the thigh of her jeans. “I feel like a coon cornered in a crawl space.”
“Wanna talk about why?”
To a Cabbage Patch doll? “Nope.”
Icabod clucked his unseen tongue. “I know what you’re thinking, Calla. Oh, that Ic, he’s just a Cabbage Patch doll, or creepy doll, as I recall overhearing you say once or twice. But my advice is sound. Just ask Winnie.”
She shook off her nerves and smiled at him in apology. “I’m sorry, Ic. I judged before I knew you. Can you ever forgive me?”
Icabod sighed. “Of course, and I get it. A talking doll is pretty Chuckie-ish.”
“And I don’t doubt your advice is sound. Not for a second. Winnie tells me all the time how sage you are. But there’s really nothing to talk about. It’s just first-time jitters, nothing more. Promise.”
Liar…
“Okey-doke. Then I’ll just sit here with my mouth closed. Pun intended. But you make sure that wingnut lizard stays in her corner, or I’m opening a kiosk at the mall featuring her as some belts.”
Twyla Faye made a sniffing noise, but Calla gave her the eye, effectively quieting her again.
Peering into the big walk-in closet where Kirby was sifting through Winnie’s dresses, she decided it was now or never. “Find anything good in there, Kirby?” she asked, sliding off the bed to make her way across the floor.
Kirby poked her head out and held up a black, slinky dress with a swirly skirt and tight, sequined bodice. “This is really pretty. It would look amazing against your fair skin and dark hair.”
Calla took it from her and held it up against her frame. The bodice would no doubt be too tight. “It’s very pretty. Just not me. Mind if I squeeze in there and take a peek around?”
Kirby slipped past her and motioned her in.
Winnie’s closet was amazing. There were endless shelves of shoes, scarves, and purses. She had a dress in every color of the rainbow, and clearly she didn’t mind wearing something revealing.