She shook her head. Winnie was pretty tall, but at five-ten, still shorter than Calla was by at least two inches. “I’m too tall to wear anything of yours. My leg alone is as long as your torso.”
She wiggled her perfectly plucked raven eyebrows. “Then whatever you choose will be a little short, and if tonight’s the night, not that I’m pressuring you, short so works. Now, not another word. Kirby should be home by the time you need to get ready and if not, BIC won’t be far behind. She’s our parolee babysitter for the weekend.”
Calla laughed at the nickname Winnie had given Greta. “Why don’t you just call BIC Greta? It’s been a year since she was your parole officer.”
“Because she’ll always be Bitch In Charge to me, and I secretly think she likes it. Anyway, if BIC’s not there, Kirby will let you in, right?” she asked one of Calla’s favorite employees who handled pickups and drop offs for the seniors.
As part of the rehabilitation program for magic abusers that Winnie and her warlock husband Ben ran in a big, rambling Victorian, the women on parole had to work and contribute to society without the use of their magic.
When Kirby had first come to the program, Winnie had encouraged her to apply at Hallow Moon despite her doubts about Kirby’s potential for rehabilitation. But Kirby had proven them all wrong. She’d never once, to Calla’s knowledge anyway, used her magic for ill-gotten means, she was dependable, always on time, and the seniors really liked her, and so did Calla. She’d come to depend on her more than any other employee she had.
Kirby wiped her hands on the towel she was using to dry tables and nodded with a slight smile—but still, a smile. One that had grown brighter in the six months since she’d begun to work for Calla. “You bet, Boss.”
“Perfect. Then it’s settled. Just head over to the house and dig through my closet. Borrow whatever you’d like. And now I have to go, because Baba Yaga waits for no one.”
Calla smiled when she remembered what Winnie had told her about the troubled relationship she’d once shared with Ben’s aunt Yaga—and the time she served in jail with Baba Yaga as her jailor.
“You two have really turned your relationship around, huh? Seems like you’re spending more and more time with her.”
Winnie paused before tucking a light blanket under Ben Junior’s chin, her eyes teary the way they always became when they talked about what she’d gone through just a year or so ago.
“You know, if not for Baba, I wouldn’t have an incredible husband or Benny Junior and my little Lola, and I sure as hell wouldn’t live here in Paris—because let’s face it, it’s hotter than Satan’s balls here. But last year around this time, I wanted to kill her for sending me to this town. This year? I could kiss her for the amazing life I have because she knew better. That’s why the halfway house is so important to me—to Ben. Why it means so much that you’re willing to hire people like Kirby. Happy endings do exist, Calla. Sometimes you just have to let them.”
She knew Winnie suspected something troubled her. It wasn’t the first time she’d hinted at it.
Calla just wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet. She’d replayed it enough in her head for a lifetime.
So she was going to deflect again. “Well, you make sure you say hello to Miracle Worker Baba for me. Also, don’t forget to remind her I want to borrow those neon-pink leg warmers and her Breakfast Club soundtrack. She promised last time she was in.”
Winnie rolled her eyes at Baba’s penchant for everything ’80s. “Do not encourage, Calla. She has a warehouse stacked to the brim with eighties paraphernalia. And I really, really have to run now. Do you have any idea how many suitcases it takes to pack up two children and a husband for one weekend?”
“Can’t you just wiggle your nose or wave The Wand?”
Winnie gasped as though Calla had suggested she give Mount Rushmore boobs—which, if Calla remembered right, she had at one point in her sordid past before she’d come to Paris and reformed. “That you would even suggest such a thing, Calla Allen. We only use our magic when necessary.”
“So that wasn’t you making the carousel horses in the park come to life then?”
“You hush,” she hissed on a laugh. “Ben likes them. They soothe him when he’s cranky, nothing else works. And if you don’t stop teasing me, I’ll sic Icabod on you.”
“You mean your creepy Cabbage Patch doll slash familiar?”
“He is not creepy. Okay, he’s a little creepy. But he’s an amazing familiar, and we’ve been through a lot together. Now, c’mere,” Winnie ordered, pulling her in for a hug, the scent of her jasmine perfume wafting to Calla’s nose. “Have an amazing, unforgettable time tonight and text me all about it tomorrow. You hear me? Don’t leave a juicy second of it out.”