Witches on Parole: Unlocked

Chapter 8
Nat stood in the hallway, eyes on her intern. 9 a.m. and she’d already folded the towels twice. It was turning into a morning ritual. A soul numbing, life-constricting ritual, the kind that made Nat’s throat close up just observing it.

It was like watching a plant die from lack of water. And it was happening in her studio.

Nat tried to breathe, tried to find the open mental space she needed to think clearly. Instead, a line from Jennie’s email of the night before marched to a jarring beat in her head. We need to support her, instead of propping her up.

It sounded like Melvin’s advice.

Nat watched another towel land on top of the pile, corners crisply aligned—and suddenly knew, with terrible certainty, that Spirit Yoga had become one of Elsie’s props. She closed her eyes against the squeezing pain and directed one furious blast at the pendant around her neck.

Why was this hers to do?

The answer flowed back into her fingers. Because she was the one who saw the need.

Nat wandered back to the small kitchen, thinking and breathing and trying to soften the ache in her heart. The pendant around her neck brought with it some demands—she’d known that the moment it had been laid in her fingers. She’d made a promise to Elsie the night they’d both put their necklaces on.

Sometimes keeping promises really sucked.

She’d pushed very hard on Elsie before, and it was time to do it again. No more flaming interns—she’d promised Jamie. But this was going to scrape at Elsie’s soul.

Taking two teacups off the shelf, Nat poured some of the steeping tea, willing her hands to stop shaking. Some lovely blend of chamomile and strawberry—one of Ginia’s recent experiments. Nat inhaled deeply, letting the ripe smell of strawberry carry the richness of summer deep into her lungs. This time of year was full of abundance. Time to go water Elsie’s garden a little—even if it meant ripping the plastic off her greenhouse first.

She paused again in the hallway, watching. Elsie had been so vibrant during the water-balloon fight. Out of her element, surrounded by friends, and totally open to the possibilities. It was time to give that Elsie more room to play.

This was going to tear both of them in two—and it had to be done.

Nat stepped forward, holding out a cup of tea. “I think maybe this isn’t the place for you right now.”

Towel folding completed, Elsie shifted to straightening yoga mats. Ones that were already perfectly straight. “I don’t understand—do you have something different you need me to be doing?”

Even tea felt lumpy in Nat’s throat. She pushed her anguish away—there would be time for that later. “Take some time off. I don’t really need anyone to fold towels for me, and if I do, there are plenty of willing hands. You need time to explore who you are, and I don’t think that being here is serving you right now.”

“You’re firing me?” Elsie’s hands fluttered, her steady rhythm shattered. Her bleak eyes nearly tore Nat’s heart out.

“No.” It had seemed so clear a moment ago. Nat tried to cling to the tattered remnants of her certainty. “When was the last time you had a life free of commitments to anyone but yourself?”

Elsie’s voice was a harsh whisper. “I’ve never asked for that.”

“I know.” Nat kept her tears at bay—they wouldn’t help. “But I’m giving it to you anyway. You are always welcome here—but come when yoga calls to you.” Or maybe, friendship. “Come for your needs, not mine. Come because Elsie Giannotto feels the need to move and breathe in the way we do here, or because you have a sudden urge to be upside down. Come every day, or don’t come at all.”

The weight of freedom bowed Elsie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I must have failed.”

Nat caught her by the arms, wishing she could reach the heart that was already fleeing. “You didn’t fail. If you believe nothing else, please believe that. You’ve been so brave. I’m not pushing you away—I’m trying to tell you it’s okay to take some freedom.” And right now, Spirit Yoga was just another chain weighing down Elsie’s responsible soul.

Elsie’s eyes were hollow. “I guess it’s my lacking that I don’t understand the difference. I need to go now.” She turned, her movements those of an old woman, and walked very slowly toward the door.

Nat leaned against the counter, holding her pendant and feeling sick. And prayed Elsie had a soft spot to land.

Her pendant beat a steady vibration on her chest. She didn’t know if it was cheering or crying. Nat laid her head down on the counter and let the tears come.

~ ~ ~

––––––––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: Jamie Sullivan <[email protected]>

Subject: What the hell is going on?

––––––––––––––

Jennie,

I get a phone call from Melvin, telling me to go to my wife, and arrive to find her as devastated as I’ve ever seen her. All I’ve picked up so far is that she fired Elsie. Well, not really, but that’s how it feels to the both of them.

Something about folded towels and chains and pulling the wings off caged butterflies. It’s hard to make much sense of words swimming in a vat of tears.

I’d go hit somebody, but I’m pretty sure my wife has done this to herself. She’s sliced her heart in two because she believes she had to.

I’m no stranger to the best among us being asked to walk the hardest road—and I know all too well that she’s one of our very best.

But as the guy wiping her tears, let me just say for the record—this bites. I want to know what the hell’s going on, and what that wise old guy in San Diego knows that I don’t.

If Nat’s not out of the bathroom in two more minutes, I’m going in. Pretty sure that’s in my marriage vows somewhere.

See if you can find a witch to come cover the studio, please? I’m taking my wife home.

Over and out,

Jamie

~ ~ ~

Elsie stumbled through the door of Knit a Spell, no longer able to hold back the faucet of tears. She made it two steps and felt Caro’s strong arms wrapping around her. “Shh, sweet girl. Shh.”

Hands and voices joined Caro’s in a chorus of concern as Elsie shook with sobs. Some part of her fought for control—in her world, tears weren’t a communal activity.

Nonsense, child. How better to cry than surrounded by friends?

Friends. She had friends. A few last hiccupping sobs, and Elsie picked her face up off Caro’s shoulder. Helga handed her a delicately embroidered hankie. “Here you go, dearie. Have a blow, and then come sit and tell us all about it.”

Elsie looked at the hankie in consternation. “It’s so lovely. Maybe a Kleenex instead?”

“Pfft.” Helga’s eyes twinkled. “A little snot never hurt anything well made.”

The giggle that snuck out caught Elsie’s bruised heart totally by surprise. Carefully, she blew, trying to keep the pink roses as clean as possible. It was a bit of a hopeless task.

Helga looped her elbow through Elsie’s and led her back to the tables. “So, was it a man?”

Elsie tried to get her brain moving. “A man?”

“Tears like that usually mean a man,” said Helga sagely as the others nodded. “It’s their Y chromosomes, dear—they don’t know any better.”

Jodi bounced her small boy on her lap. “Except this one. I’m going to raise him right.”

“You give it a good try.” Marion patted her knee. “But don’t be too hard on yourself it if doesn’t turn out quite the way you expect.”

Elsie felt their banter coating her soul in comfort. Friends. She had friends. “It wasn’t a guy.” She sniffled one last time. “I got fired.”

Helga frowned. “From where, dear? I thought you were taking a break from your therapy practice.”

“I am.” Elsie took a deep breath. “Nat fired me. From the yoga studio. Well, not really fired, but she told me to go away, which is pretty much the same thing.”

Caro’s eyebrows flew up. “That doesn’t sound like Nat.”

“I was there.” Elsie hated the bitter tone in her voice. “She told me none of the things I’m doing for her are very useful.”

“Wasn’t she the young pregnant woman at the water-balloon fight?” Marion’s needles stabbed her knitting rather fiercely. “She seemed nice enough. I guess appearances can be deceiving.”

“She’s wonderful.” Elsie jumped to Nat’s defense. “She’s worked very hard to help me during my time working with her.” She stopped for a moment as the true awfulness of what had happened came to sit on her heart again. “It’s me. I was sent to be her intern, and I guess I haven’t done an acceptable job.”

“Bull hooey.” This time Caro’s eyebrows stayed in their normal place. “There’s not a chance Natalia Sullivan said that.” She tugged on a couple of errant balls in the counter yarn display. “It might have been what you heard, but that’s a different kettle of fish.”

“Ah,” said Helga, setting down her knitting and pulling out a large plastic container. “Sounds like we need some chocolate, and then you can tell us exactly what Nat said, Elsie dear. We’ll put our heads together and see if we can figure out what it all means.”

Elsie took a brownie, blew her nose again, and started to tell the whole, miserable story. And felt better the moment the words started to flow.

~ ~ ~

Lauren sighed and started back at the beginning of her pile of listings. It was like there was a disturbance in the force, or something—she was finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate this morning. She looked up as a shadow interrupted the warm sun streaming in her front door, and did a double take. Totally hot guys didn’t walk into the office every day. “Hi, welcome to Berkeley Real Estate. Can I help you?”

It wasn’t until he smiled that Lauren realized how young he was. “Hi, I’m Josh. Is Lizard around? She said she had a counteroffer for me to look at.”

This was Josh? Holy hell. “She’s gone around the corner to put a sold sign on one of our listings. Have a seat—she’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m Lauren, by the way. I’m glad Lizard found you something you liked so quickly.”

He slouched into a chair, easy charm in ratty jeans. “Her maps really helped. Those are pretty cool. I haven’t seen other real estate offices using them—is it a proprietary system you’ve developed?”

Lauren blinked. Ratty jeans and casual conversation or not, Josh’s mind screamed high-flying businessman. “That’s Lizard’s baby. I’m a fairly competent computer user, but she’s our resident tech genius. I’m just smart enough to let her do what she’s good at.”

“Most bosses aren’t that smart.” He shrugged. “I played with the maps she sent me last night. I don’t think it would be that hard to set up a system. Sell it to other realtors maybe, or offer it as a service to buyers.”

Interesting idea, but it had a couple of obvious flaws. “And lose my competitive advantage?”

“Nah.” Josh flashed that grin again. “The maps are cool, but the genius is in Lizard’s head. You can’t sell that. It would be a useful tool that might make you a lot of money, though—and you guys would still have the best maps in the city.”

His eyes got hazy for a moment. “Or you could offer it on an exclusive-licensing basis to one real-estate team in each metro area. No competition for you, big advantage for each of them.”

Lauren was a smart businesswoman. She appreciated Josh’s quick mind and grasp of her business. But the fact that he got Lizard? That was making her totally melty. “It sounds like an interesting idea. The maps are Lizard’s—have a chat with her.” She debated a moment and went on instinct. “You might go slowly with it. She’s not quite as convinced as I am that she’s a genius.”

Josh’s face didn’t change, not even a flicker. But she felt her words land—and the empathy and curiosity that followed. “Sounds good. First I want to buy a house, though.”

Lauren heard the mental clomping that signaled Lizard in the vicinity. “Here comes the woman who can help you with that.” She swept up her papers. “I’m in the back office if you need me.”

More points to Josh when he waved vaguely in her direction and turned toward the door, looking for her assistant—with an eagerness in his mind that gave Lauren’s heart happy flutters.

~ ~ ~

Lizard set the paperwork down in front of Josh. “Okay, here’s their counteroffer. They came down some on price, but I think we can do better—the place is vacant, and not every buyer’s going to be thrilled with the new baby next door.” Josh, on the other hand, had already offered to babysit.

He glanced at the papers. “Did they agree to the earlier move-in date?”

“Yes.” After a long conversation trying to convince the selling agent that her client was for real. “With a cash offer, we can move things along pretty quickly.” She’d spent hours on the phone with bank people and insurance people and paperwork people, making sure they could get the rich-but-crazy Joshua Hennessey into his new house in exactly one week.

Josh grinned. “Sorry. I told you I was going to be a pain-in-the-neck client.” He looked around. “Got a pen?”

Crap. “You really shouldn’t sign this one. They’ll come down on price.” She was sure of it. The selling agent probably sucked at poker—she’d had “wishy-washy” written all over her face. “Let me go back to them one more time. They’re just getting greedy because they know you’re in a hurry.”

“I hate hotel rooms.” He shrugged, easygoing—and mind totally made up. “And it’s just money.”

He was going to sign it—with a year’s salary worth of wiggle room still on the table. Lizard gritted her teeth, glared at him, and swallowed her pride. Yo, Lauren—can you come here a minute?

Lauren’s head poked out of her back office seconds later. “Can I help with anything?”

Lizard folded her arms. “Yeah. Tell him it’s dumb to sign this counteroffer. They’ll come down another forty grand, maybe more.”

Lauren leaned back against the doorframe and assessed Josh. “You gonna sign it?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“Can you afford it?”

Another grin, slightly embarrassed this time. “Yeah.”

Lauren shrugged. “Give the man a pen.”

Lizard blinked. What had happened to her boss’s fabled negotiating skills? “How come you’re on his side?” Then she swung around and glared at Josh, who was totally smirking. “And why do you think it’s funny?”

Josh just looked at her for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded almost impressed. It did weird things to her gut. “How many real estate agents would be trying to talk me out of signing this deal?”

She had an answer for that. An answer Lauren had taught her, damn it. “All the smart ones. We’re supposed to keep clients from doing things they’ll regret later.”

“I won’t regret this.” His eyes were clear-blue amusement—and then they darkened to something harder to read. “You found me a home, Lizard. Now let me buy the damn thing.”

Well, frack. What was she supposed to say to that? Lizard reached into the desk drawer and handed him a pen, watching as he scrawled his name in big, bold strokes. And then she felt the pleasure hit his mind. Little-boy-dancing-in-a-mud-puddle pleasure.

Congratulations, sent Lauren. You did good.

He paid forty grand too much.

Yeah. That should tell you something.

Lizard frowned. He’s filthy rich and stupid?

Lauren rolled her eyes. No. He really wants a home. She waited a beat, and then grinned. And he’s stubborn as a rock.

Great. How come she got all the hard clients?

Lauren’s mental laughter was loud enough that Josh could probably hear. He’s young, sexy, and rich, girl. How come you get all the luck?

Lizard scowled and looked up to find the sexy, stubborn guy in question holding out a sheaf of papers and smiling. “Signed. If you handle the sealed-and-delivered part, I’ll go pack my stuff.”

Lauren just eyed Lizard.

Crap. They were supposed to celebrate this part and stuff. Requirement of the job, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t the fruit-basket type. “Can I take you out to lunch first? There’s a great Thai place down the street you should know about. They have seriously good green curry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to scowl at me the whole time we eat?”

She shrugged and tried not to grin. “Probably.” He totally deserved it.

She could still hear Lauren laughing when they were halfway down the block.

~ ~ ~

Jennie glanced at Caro as they walked out of power yoga. Is Elsie as messed up as Nat? She’d never been in a Spirit Yoga class with their teacher so distressed. Or with Jamie hulking at the back, broadcasting so much concern.

Nope, not anymore. Caro wiped her face with an already soggy towel. A few tears, brownies, and a bevy of meddling knitters, and Elsie’s on the road to recovery. Burdens get lighter when they’re shared.

Jennie pulled two water bottles out of her bag and handed one over. “That’s no small thing for Elsie to discover. She’s found a real home there amongst your balls of yarn.”

“Knitters are good people.” Caro’s face softened. “And Elsie’s got a huge heart that’s slowly digging its way out. Nat just gave her a bit of a hand.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow. “You think Nat did the right thing?” They hadn’t had much time to talk before class—just enough to know that Elsie had surfaced at Knit a Spell.

“Doesn’t she always?” Caro glugged water. “Bruised both of them a bit, but it’s for the best. Kind of like hip openers—uncomfortable, but good for you.” She put down the bottle. “I have to run back before Helga gives away too many balls of yarn or uses her water pistol again.”

Jennie grinned. Helga was a force to be reckoned with. “Where did she get that, anyhow?”

Caro’s laugh was long and deep. “From Melvin. He brought two.” And then she was gone, long strides carrying her out the door.

“Never underestimate a blind accountant,” Jennie muttered under her breath. She was the last person who should have needed a refresher of that particular lesson.

“Talking to yourself?” Lauren, arriving for the next class, looked amused.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Jennie pulled her over to a quiet corner. “Do me a favor—spend some time with Nat after work today?”

Lauren’s eyes sharpened. “What happened?” Then her eyes hazed as she began to pick up the emotional currents. “What’s wrong with Nat?”

“I’m not sure yet, other than she fired her intern.”

“I didn’t.” Nat’s soft voice stopped them both in their tracks. “I released her from obligation. There’s a difference.”

Jennie blinked. It was like looking into Melvin’s eyes. Wisdom and pain. “You think being here isn’t good for her?”

“It was.” Nat took a deep breath. “And I believe it will be again. But obsessively folding my towels isn’t what Elsie needs right now. She’s managed to turn it into an act of obligation, rather than one of service and meditation.”

“You meditate while you fold towels?” Lauren shook her head, eyes full of concern. “Never mind, dumb question. So, you threw Elsie out for her own good?”

Nat winced. “I didn’t throw her out. Exactly. I invited her to return whenever she wanted.”

Ah. Finally Jennie understood. “When she wants. Not because she’s needed.” That subtlety had likely flown right over Elsie’s head.

She could feel Nat’s distress mute a little. “Exactly. There’s so much here that could help her—but…” She trailed off a moment, arms wrapping around her ribs. “It’s like handstands. If I give students a choice at first, almost all of them will pick the wall over the support of my hands in the center of the room.”

Jennie blushed. She’d been one of them. “The wall feels safer.”

“Yes.” Nat smiled, a touch of brightness fighting through her aching sadness. “But it isn’t, and most students eventually choose to give the center of the room a try.”

Lauren stared at her friend, finally nodding. “And if they don’t, you take away the wall.”

“Yes. If you time it right, almost any student can be freed from needing a wall to prop them up.” The pain was back in Nat’s eyes. “I know Elsie’s wall needed to go. I’m just not sure I got the timing right—and if you mess up, people stop doing handstands.”

Jennie reached for Nat, remembering her first fearful handstand in the middle of the room. “That’s up to Elsie to decide.” It felt awfully early to be sending Elsie to the center of the room. But darkroom photographers knew a lot about timing. Sometimes the most beautiful results come from getting the timing wrong.

They would just have to see.