Witches on Parole: Unlocked

Chapter 13
They heard Lizard coming from halfway down the block. Lauren grinned at Jennie. “Wow, Josh must have really pushed her buttons.”

Jennie leaned back into her chair, looking intrigued. “I think I have to meet this boy.”

He was young, but he was no boy. Lauren kept her mouth shut, however—Jennie was more than capable of figuring that out for herself. And Lizard’s mind was spewing a lot of snippets that didn’t seem all that related to Josh.

Interesting.

She blew through the door, looking monstrously frazzled. “Lauren. How do most real estate agents come up with a shortlist of houses for clients?” She skidded to a halt in front of the desk. “Hey, Jennie.”

Lauren blinked, trying to hop aboard a conversational tornado. “Most agents, or this office?”

“Most.” Lizard sat down, but her mind was bouncing like a fish tank full of Superballs.

“Well, any decent agent gets a sense of what the client wants in a house and tries to match that to available listings.” Which was hardly news to her assistant, but a good negotiator knew when to bide her time. Something big was on Lizard’s mind.

“The house, right? But not the neighborhood.”

Ah. This had something to do with the maps. Clearly Josh wasn’t moving slowly. “Well, good agents have a feel for the areas they typically sell in, and you try to match that up with a client—but it’s more art than science. Partly it’s because good information isn’t as available—that’s why those maps of yours are so useful.”

Lizard nodded, still distracted by the thoughts firing around her brain. “That’s what Josh said.” She looked up, eyes suddenly clearing. “But the idea to pay attention to the neighborhoods is yours. I just did the maps.”

Okay, she was falling behind again. Lauren studied her assistant, trying to gauge where this was going.

She’s trying to worm out of owning her genius, sent Jennie quietly. She can do that if you let her be just the data flunkie.

It was always good to have backup. Lauren kept her voice casual. “It’s not a new idea. Any good realtor knows clients buy into a whole package—the house, the neighbors, the cute little shop or park down the street. But those things are really variable, so they’re hard to put on a listing sheet. It’s easier to focus on bedroom closets and whether the kitchen has nice appliances or not.”

“So most real estate agents don’t really focus on the neighborhood.”

Lauren’s inner negotiator could smell the deal now. “They might. If they had the right tools.”

Lizard glared, suddenly radiating suspicion. “Have you been talking to Josh?”

Bull’s-eye. “No, but you have. Are you going to tell us what you talked about, or are we going to keep playing Realtor Twenty Questions?”

Her assistant scowled. “He wants to make a fancy version of my maps and sell it to real estate agents across the country. Make all the data automated and stuff.”

That much, Lauren knew. “How do you feel about that?”

Lizard shrugged. “Less work for me, I guess.”

Murky territory again. “It wouldn’t be as good as your maps. You walk around the neighborhood, get a hands-on feel. Databases can’t substitute for eyes on the ground.”

“That’s what I told Josh.” Lizard’s eyes lit. “We need to hire people to go walk around the neighborhoods. Take notes.”

Jennie’s eyebrows flew up. “That’s not exactly a small undertaking. Or a cheap one.”

The jumble in Lizard’s mind multiplied tenfold, all underlaid with a thick coating of doubt. “He says he knows investors. Suits with lots of money and no ideas of their own. He thinks they might be interested in the prototype.”

In a parallel universe, Lauren might be keeping up with this conversation. “What prototype?”

“Josh and a couple people he works with jazzed up my maps. We talked about a few more ideas to add, and then he wants to show them to some people.” Lizard suddenly looked kind of green. “He wants me to meet with them too.”

Lauren tried not to laugh, imagining the culture shock that might happen if Lizard ended up on the other side of the table from the no-ideas-of-their-own guys. And then realized that was exactly the thing terrifying her assistant, in the short intervals when doubt wasn’t in control. Well, this much, she could help with. “Just pretend they’re naked.”

Jennie nearly snorted tea out her nose, and tried to cover by being helpful. “Or covered in tattoos.”

Lizard stared—and then her lips started to quirk. “Do I get to design the tats?”

“Absolutely.” Jennie smiled. And sent a tightly channeled message to Lauren. Keep me posted. I might know an investor or two who don’t wear suits, if this is for real.

Lauren hid her smile. Josh was for real, and she was pretty sure she could name a couple of Jennie’s investors. It had been a total shock to discover how much money ran quietly underground in Witch Central, and a good deal of it ran through her best friend’s husband. And there was no chance Jamie would show up wearing a suit.

Lizard jumped as her phone beeped. “Crap, gotta go. Class starts in fifteen.” She was already on the move. “I’ll be in at eight tomorrow. Is it okay if I leave early for my new poetry class?”

Since she didn’t wait around to hear the answer, Lauren figured the question was mostly rhetorical.

Jennie smiled. “That was interesting.”

“Yeah.” Lauren grinned. “Do you think Josh is ready for a bunch of witch investors?”

“Hmmm.” Jennie’s eyes were pensive. “I’m more interested in whether Lizard’s ready for Josh.”

She wasn’t the only one.

~ ~ ~

Elsie reached up and ran a hand through her hair, pretty sure she still felt sand. That probably wasn’t a huge surprise—even her eyebrows had been caked with sand by the time she and Aervyn had finished blowing up every volcano in his imaginary universe.

Running through the sprinkler afterwards had been fun, but it had mostly just spread the sand around to new places. Perhaps she should have taken Nell up on the de-sanding spell. It was apparently a pretty easy spell for an earth witch—and that troubled Elsie. She had minor earth talents. Why didn’t she know how to clean herself up when she got messy?

She walked slowly down the sidewalk, knowing the truth, and hating it. Because she’d never gotten messy. And now she was an adult with some huge, gaping holes in her life because she’d skipped way too many of the fun and silly parts.

She’d worked with an awful lot of clients who had blamed their parents for their troubles, and never truly understood it. But if a ten-year-old girl didn’t know how to be silly, how could that not be her mother’s fault?

Yes. She was angry with her mother. Scratch that. She was furious with her mother. And all the therapy degrees in the world weren’t helping her calm down.

It was easy enough to follow the pretty classic lines of what had happened. A father abandons his wife and child. The wife, distraught, works to remove any reminders of the father from her life—including those that lived in her daughter’s personality. Papa had been a painter, a sculptor, an artist. Messy and silly had been his stock-in-trade.

And after he’d left, guided by her mother’s sadness, Elsie had divested herself of the bits of her soul most like her father. It had been a willing transformation—Mom wasn’t the only one who had been abandoned.

Fast forward to adulthood, and you ended up with a woman who needed a remedial education in how to have fun.

Elsie stopped on the edge of a playground, watching a toddler throw sand with one hand and eat some mushy lump of gluck with the other. An older child balanced precariously on a skateboard, tongue sticking out in lopsided concentration. Further away, a group of giggly teenage girls stood watching a couple of shirtless boys throwing balls at a hoop.

Oh, God, thought Elsie. Silly wasn’t restricted to kids under six. She’d done well enough with Aervyn, learning the fine art of making mud pies. But nine and ten and sixteen-year-olds did three lifetimes full of things she’d never tried.

How did you catch up on more than twenty years of being the responsible, obsessively neat child who didn’t have any fun? Preferably without breaking any bones or getting arrested.

There were so many ways this could go badly. But she had to try.

She’d worked too hard finding this hole to refuse to fill it.

~ ~ ~

––––––––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: Vero Liantro <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Two happy hearts.

––––––––––––––

Jennie love,

Melvin has often said that Aervyn’s greatest talent is his capacity for joy. To that I would add his ability to be the engine of much of the silliness of Witch Central. It’s a delightful sign that Elsie is ready for his particular brand of magic. And if I recall correctly, blowing up a mud volcano is a pretty bit of spellwork as well.

I imagine that your hands itched for a camera—and I admit to a bit of a wish that you’d had one. Few things make for a sweeter picture than small, dirty boys and a good dose of joy.

I assume Lizard has returned by now—Melvin’s pendant gives no indication that she’s gone AWOL. And while I know nothing of this Josh, I know all too well how dangerous a nice man who suddenly gets demanding can be. My Melvin had me fooled for a while—that quiet accountant exterior of his is quite the disguise.

I find myself thinking that it might be an interesting journey for our Lizard to meet her Melvin. And then I laugh at myself for being a matchmaking old lady. She has plenty of time to find her own heart yet.

Although Josh might not think so. I know young people meet and part a lot these days, but we opera singers believe in grand loves. I’ll indulge myself in a little daydreaming on Lizard’s behalf. Reality might choose a far different path.

Walk in the light,

Vero

~ ~ ~

The house smelled insanely good. Lizard paused at the door, stomach ready to riot. It was Elsie’s night to cook dinner—and nothing in Elsie’s repertoire came remotely close to smelling like heaven.

Lizard reached out with a mindscan, checking for house invaders.

Welcome home, sent Jamie, mentally chuckling. We’re having a cooking lesson back here, and we’ve cleaned up most of the mess—I think it’s safe to enter.

Ha. They were still cleaning up flour out of kitchen crannies after the bake-Helga-a-rock-resembling-a-cake disaster. Are you a better cook than Jennie?

Laughter rumbled from Jamie’s head. On most things, yeah. More importantly, I know my limitations. We’re making tomato sauce.

That got Lizard’s feet moving toward the kitchen. Fast. Jamie’s tomato sauce had a street value higher than crack. She dropped her bag on the counter and kept moving, nose headed straight for the pot on the stove in front of Elsie. “How’d you get him to teach you his secret sauce?” She’d heard people had tried to bribe him for like two decades.

Elsie just grunted and squinted at the sauce.

Lizard spun around to face Jamie, glaring. “I even offered to trade my biscuit recipe. What’d she give you?”

Jamie grinned, draining pasta over the sink. “She babysat Aervyn for me today.”

Unless superboy had turned her roommate into a frog or something, that was the most pathetic trade ever. Lizard’s bullshit detector started beeping insanely. No way. What’s the real deal?

That’s it. Jamie poured noodles onto a big flat plate. She’s only a baby negotiator, and she really wanted to learn how to cook something that uses earth magic. My repertoire’s kind of limited, and she asked nicely, so we’re making sauce.

Lizard frowned and asked something that had bothered her for weeks. She’s an earth witch. Aren’t they born good at cooking?

Yeah. Jamie met her gaze. Some of us don’t manage to use everything we’re born with.

She had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling they weren’t talking about Elsie anymore.

Elsie spun around, victory blazing on her face. “Green stuff. It needs some of that green stuff. You know, the one with the little pointy things and the smell.”

Lizard blinked. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down a lot.” About half the kitchen herbs in the universe met that description.

Try grabbing the picture from her mind, said Jamie dryly. It’s a little more precise.

Ah. Rosemary. Lizard turned around, following her nose, and discovered about fifteen plates of chopped, mashed, and shredded herbs. “Whoa. You guys put all this in the sauce?”

Jamie grinned. “Nope. That’s just the range of possibilities. Elsie’s been picking and choosing.”

Normally that would have had Lizard running in terror, but she couldn’t deny the wondrous smell emanating from the pot. Gingerly, she handed over a plate of lightly crushed rosemary, and watched, fascinated, as Elsie ran her finger through the herb. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to hear what it’s saying.” Elsie leaned her nose closer to the plate, and then looked at Jamie, uncertain. “A little more?”

He shrugged. “Is that what it’s telling you?”

Get out, Lizard sent, smart enough not to disrupt her roommate’s concentration. Herbs talk?

Kinda. Jamie reached up for wine glasses. It’s not much different than kneading bread dough—how do you know when you have enough flour?

It sure as heck didn’t have a conversation with her. I just know. When it feels right.

He nodded and poured. It’s kind of like that for an earth witch, but with a little extra punch. And they don’t have to have done it ten times to have those good instincts.

Well, that was freaking convenient.

Jamie rolled his eyes. She’s cooking you a bad-ass dinner—are you really complaining?

No. Lizard started carrying stuff to the table. Cooking had always been her deal, though. It was weird to get kicked out of the kitchen.

Tell me about it. Jamie grinned, porting wine glasses into place on the table. Nat’s cooking pregnancy potions with Ginia in our kitchen. No geeky boys allowed.

Lizard snorted. So you’re really here to sponge food?

Pretty much. Trust me—you don’t want to know what goes into potions.

Nope, she totally didn’t.

Elsie turned from the stove, dripping ladle in her hand. “I think it’s done. Jamie, do you want to taste test?”

“Hell, no.” Jamie held out a plate and discreetly ported away the mess the ladle had made on the floor. “I want to eat.”

Lizard grabbed a plate and got in line. It smelled seriously good—and she was hungry enough to eat even if her nose lied. She nearly drooled as Elsie upended a ladle of sauce over her noodles. “So how come there aren’t people lined up around the block holding plates?” A month in Witch Central, and she was well aware what happened when witches smelled food.

“It’s top secret.” Jamie was already at the table, fork in hand. “Elsie wanted some space to experiment before she tries to feed the hungry hordes.”

“Since when have witches needed an invitation?” Lizard, still standing, spooned in her first bite, heavy on the tomato sauce. Tangy bliss rolled over her tongue, and she tumbled into a fog of tomato goodness. It took half the plate to notice the noodles were homemade—probably Jamie’s contribution—and that she was still standing.

Lizard was no dummy. She headed for the stove before sitting down, and piled her plate halfway to the ceiling. Setting her treasure down carefully on the table, she snagged another mouthful, and then gestured at Elsie and Jamie’s plates. You guys want more?

Jamie pushed her into a seat with one hand, the other snagging his plate. “I’ll get my own. Eat fast—I can’t promise the hordes won’t smell this.”

Three forkfuls into the mountain, Lizard finally pulled enough of her brain away from food to read the dumbfounded awe in Elsie’s mind. Confused, she looked up at her roommate, trying to get a better read.

“It’s really good,” whispered Elsie, staring at her fork.

“Good” was a really wimpy word. And Lizard had lots of words. “It’s stupendous. Magnificent. Monumentally scrumptious.” She vaguely registered the surprised pride in Elsie’s head.

“Nice one.” Jamie plunked back down at the table, a mountain to rival Lizard’s on his plate. “Elsie, there are people who will tell you this is better than mine.” He grinned. “They might be right.”

Now the pride was ringing clearer. Elsie blushed and twirled more noodles on her fork.

It was Jamie who had Lizard’s attention now. People just didn’t give up their claim to fame that easily. Jamie had decades as the reigning king of spaghetti sauce.

I’m not that old, he sent with a mental snort.

Whatever. She’d had his sauce. Elsie’s was a pretty serious competitor, but still.

There’s room for more royalty. Witch Central can easily handle another sauce diva.

Lizard took one more moment to wonder where that kind of easy generosity came from—and then she dug back into her noodle heap. Philosophy could wait. Even if Jamie was still watching her with eyes that were doing way too much thinking.

Then he switched his gaze to Elsie. “When are you going to invite everybody over for a taste test?”

Lizard snorted. Unless they barred the doors, an invitation wasn’t going to be necessary. She hoped her roommate could repeat her tomato miracle.

Elsie looked down at her fork for a long moment. “Tomorrow. For breakfast.” She smiled. “I have a little project, and I need help.”

No one at the table was dumb enough to point out that people didn’t usually eat spaghetti for breakfast. For this kind of sauce, a world of exceptions could be made.

~ ~ ~

Her pendant was vibrating—and Jennie was pretty sure that this time, it was mad at her. She was about to meddle, and for all the wrong reasons.

She’d asked Josh to meet her for coffee. If Melvin had ever done any such thing, she’d have turned his accounting ledgers into concrete.

Way out of line. She knew it, her pendant knew it, and if Josh was half as smart as Lauren seemed to think, he knew it too. Which made it all the more interesting that he’d agreed to come. Jennie shook her head and opened the door to the Headbeater Cafe. It had seemed like an appropriate location.

Josh waved from over at the coffee bar. Points to him for being early. More points for the mix of caution and curiosity in his eyes.

Jennie sighed. Sometimes love made you stupid—and she really loved Lizard. Walking over to the bar, she slid up onto the stool beside Josh. “I appreciate you coming.”

“Interesting choice of venue.” He grinned and caught the barista’s attention with the kind of smooth ease that said he’d been here before and tipped big. Headbeater baristas lived parallel lives as a biker gang or something—they were legendary for their cranky service.

Jennie ordered one of their insanely good Killer Espressos and figured a caffeine buzz that would keep her up all night was a good start to her penance. “I figured if I was going to be stupid and harass a young man I hardly know, I could at least offer both of us good coffee while I did it.”

His mind reflected no surprise at all. Lauren was right—he was plenty smart. “I’m not all that easy to harass, but I’m pretty much a coffee addict, so you have a captive audience until my cup is empty. Care to share the general topic?”

Jennie tried not to squirm in her seat as he lobbed this mess squarely back at her. “I’m a friend of Lizard’s.” Oh, so many miles out of line, and she hadn’t even gotten started. “And I’m reaching the age where I might get away with being a nosy old busybody, so I wanted to meet you.”

“She’s my real estate agent.” Josh’s lips quirked. “Meeting with all her clients must keep you pretty busy.”

The punk boy was playing her. Jennie tried not to be amused, although he’d done a good deal to calm her nerves already. “You’d be the first, and I imagine you’ve figured that out.”

He didn’t even try to hide his grin this time. “Pretty much. So why is one of the best portrait photographers in the world pointing her lens in my direction?”

She blinked. Very few people under forty had any idea who she was. “Googled me, did you?”

“Nope.” He sniffed happily as a steaming mug of dark coffee slid onto the bar in front of him. “Didn’t have to. My great-uncle is Charlie Tosh. I grew up listening to him curse about how you always had the light on your side.”

Charlie Tosh was a photography legend—easily the most talented artist with light and shadow she’d ever known. He was also a prickly bastard who scared off half his intended targets before he managed to get his camera pointed. They’d shared awards, fought publicly and privately, and generally been the face of an entire generation of photographers.

And she was only barely aware he had a family at all. “How is Charlie?”

Josh’s eyes lit with humor. “Totally obnoxious and reaching the age where he thinks he might get away with being a grumpy old man.”

Jennie laughed and sipped her coffee. Charlie had been born a grumpy old man. “Did he ever put a camera in your hands?”

“Nope. He hid them in the highest cupboard in his house under lock and key.”

A sneaky grumpy old man. “And did it work?”

“Sure did. All of us messed with a camera at some point. I got more fascinated by what you could do to the images once you had them on the computer.”

“Heathen.” Jennie knew how to edit a digital photo. She just hated it.

“Yeah.” Josh grinned and reached over the counter for a donut. He’d definitely been here before—getting service twice required an act of God. “Uncle Charlie always says he created a monster. The first piece of really nice code I ever wrote got bought by Adobe. It’s built into the filters in Photoshop now.”

“Which ones?” If it was the color-saturation adjustment, she had a complaint to lodge.

He frowned. “I thought you didn’t do digital editing.”

This meeting wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. “For my professional stuff, no. But when I’ve taken two thousand snapshots of my grandbabies, I use the computer.” Even her legendary darkroom stamina couldn’t keep up with her need to capture their faces on camera.

She felt his mind suddenly questing, his face carefully blank. “Taken any of Lizard?”

It took a very brave man to go there—and one with more than a passing interest in her student. Jennie treaded very carefully. “Sure. Her tattoos look lovely in black and white.”

“Those tats of hers suggest a pretty interesting story.” He met her gaze squarely over his mug of coffee. “I’m not asking you to tell me what it is. But I am going to ask you to stay out of my way while I see if I can find out for myself.”

Game, set, and match to Josh. He was asking her to get back in line—and the asking part was just basic politeness. Jennie set down her cup and touched his arm. “Tell Charlie I said hello.” It was as close to an apology as she dared come.

Damn. She really liked him.

~ ~ ~

––––––––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: Jennie Adams <[email protected]>

Subject: Coming clean.

––––––––––––––

Dear Vero,

Tell Melvin he can hush my pendant now. I’m done causing trouble, and even if I weren’t, I don’t think Josh is the kind of man to be messed with.

I’m not sure why I felt so compelled to meet him. Overprotective, I guess. I’m not convinced Lizard is at all ready to have a force the size of Josh Hennessey in her life, but he’s made it very clear that it’s not my choice. I’d love a chance to get those eyes of his in front of my lens. Most of the young people I like best aren’t afraid to speak truth to power. That one isn’t afraid to be power.

And he’s Charlie Tosh’s great-nephew. Anyone that grew up around that man isn’t going to find Lizard’s occasional prickles at all challenging. I find myself wanting to warn her, but I think I’ve done enough meddling for one day.

I don’t know if she’s remotely ready for what he brings to her life, but one barely legal boy in jeans just told me to stay the hell out of his way—and I think I might just listen. For now, at least.

Elsie has sent an invitation to her house for breakfast. Spaghetti, complete with Jamie-coached tomato sauce. I have no idea what’s up, but I plan to be there at the crack of dawn, before anyone else smells food.

All my love,

Jennie