Ingrid tried to appear neutral. No matter who Corky Hutchinson’s husband was, the woman was entitled to the same service from Ingrid as anyone else. “Why would you think that?” she asked.
“All the usual stuff. He works late. He comes home and smells like perfume. He doesn’t answer his cell phone when I call, and when I ask him about it he has all these excuses. He changed the passwords on all his e-mail accounts. His voice mail, too. I checked,” she said bitterly. “I was on camera all weekend because of this disaster and didn’t hear from him once.”
“What would you like me to do about it?” Ingrid asked.
“I don’t care about the affairs. I don’t want to confront him. I don’t really want to get into it. I just want—I just want him back. I want him home with me. I know I’ve been working a lot, not just this week, but all year. But still, I don’t deserve this. I love my husband. And I think he still loves me. I brought this.” She thrust a paper bag in Ingrid’s direction. “I heard you have to bring . . . hair . . . for the . . . whatever you do. The knots.” The mayor’s wife exhaled. “I mean, it’s probably just some kind of voodoo and I should really just deal with it myself but, whatever.”
Ingrid accepted the bag. For a moment she wanted to tell her to go away, that she couldn’t do anything to help her. She found it odd that a woman like Corky Hutchinson—glamorous, confident, aggressive—would decide to solve her husband’s infidelity by consulting a witch. Corky wasn’t the type. She was the type to throw her knowledge of her husband’s infidelity right in his face and have a screaming match. Followed by passionate makeup sex if they were lucky. Freya would know more about that.
She wasn’t sure helping her was the right thing to do, especially since Corky Hutchinson had used the v word—voodoo—which meant she thought very little of Ingrid’s talents. But she also knew that a go-getter like Corky would not leave Ingrid’s office until she got what she came for. What could it hurt? Maybe if the mayor’s home life was happy he would stop trying to sell the library from under her. Ingrid opened the bag and went to work, creating a little knot from Todd’s hair, weaving it together with a thread from his wife’s blouse that Ingrid had surreptitiously taken when she’d shaken her hand. She put the knot in a tiny velvet pouch and handed the little talisman to the mayor’s wife. “Put this under your mattress. It will keep him from straying, and you will have him all to yourself from now on. It will keep him home, like you want. But you’ve got to put in the time as well. If you’re not at home enough, the power of the knot will fade.”
Corky nodded. “How much?” she asked as she opened her pocketbook.
“I only ask for a donation to the library fund,” Ingrid said. “Whatever you think you can spare, we would very much appreciate.”
“Is that all?” Corky laughed as she wrote the check. “You don’t really know much about people, do you?”
Ingrid felt an instant dislike for the arrogant news anchor. She probably should not have helped her with the knot. Well, it would keep the mayor from straying but it wouldn’t keep him there for long if his wife did not do anything to help him stay. She thought of that lavish six-page spread on Todd and Corky Hutchinson’s fabulous new life in the local glossy. They had been bursting with happiness and love. People who were so shiny that Ingrid could not help but feel just a tiny bit jealous, the way the magazine wanted you to feel—that there were people in your midst who were living more glamorous and important lives than you could ever imagine. How funny that the truth was never quite that perfect. You never knew about people, she mused. Marriage was like the surface of an ocean, seemingly placid and serene above; yet if you weren’t careful, seething and raging with underground earthquakes below.
chapter fourteen
Friends with Benefits
This being North Hampton, the only appropriate response to a disaster was through prodigious fund-raising. “Fishing for a Cause,” as it was nicknamed, brought the community out in force. The party was held on the grounds in front of city hall, with Todd Hutchinson shaking hands and promising vigorous lobbying for federal and state funding to get the waters clean again. Yet there was still no official explanation as to what the mysterious oceanic substance was made of. None of the scientists could figure it out.
The Gardiners were the primary sponsors of the event. Bran was supposed to make an opening speech, but his flight was delayed, so Killian had played host instead.
“Thank you all for coming here today,” he said, waving to the assembled crowd. The younger Gardiner looked handsome and earnest under the spotlights. He cleared his throat. “North Hampton is a very special place, and we want to keep it that way. It means a lot to my family. I know we haven’t been back here in a long time, but even if I’ve been here only briefly, I consider this place my home.” He was very articulate and moving as he continued to speak about his family’s close historical connection to the area and how much they were putting into the rehabilitation of the coastal waters and helping those whose livelihoods depended on it.
Freya attended the event with her mother and sister. A disaster of this magnitude forced Ingrid out of her antisocial stance, and Joanna had pledged to help in any way she could. Freya knew her mother was itching to use her talents to restore the delicate ecological balance in the area, but the restriction kept her from doing so. She was impressed with Killian’s words, although she tried not to be. “What a pompous idiot,” she whispered to her sister.
Ingrid looked taken aback at her vehemence. “Jeez . . . I thought he gave a nice speech. What do you have against the guy? Every time his name comes up you look like this.” She made a sour face, imitating Freya’s grimace.
“Nothing,” Freya muttered. “Forget I said anything.” She didn’t really want to talk about Killian. Instead she took a lap around the room and chatted with the mayor, who looked a bit worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes. “This thing keeping you up nights?” she asked him.
“Yeah. I’m having a hard time sleeping for some reason. My doctor prescribed some sleeping pills, but they don’t kick in.”
Freya regarded him keenly. She could see the traces of the spell, recognized it as a working of Ingrid’s. It was an infidelity charm, which kept his sexual history obscured, as each sister’s magic canceled out the other’s. Freya hoped his wife knew what she was doing. Those fidelity knots of her sister’s were no joke.
Freya continued to flit about the party, concerned with avoiding Killian at all costs. She really did not have anything to say to him, and she didn’t want to make their relationship any more awkward than it had to be. She hadn’t bumped into him since that day at the bar when the news broke out about the explosion. So when she found him standing next to her in the buffet line, she smiled politely, picked up a fruit skewer, and put it on her plate. Unfortunately, Killian had other plans. It turned out he had a lot to say to her this time. “I saw you,” he whispered in her ear. He was so close his breath made the hair on her skin prickle a little. “The other night. In front of the fireplace.”
So she was right. He had seen her. Freya felt her cheeks get hot.
“You were amazing.”
“Stop it,” Freya hissed. “Stop it.”
“I know you were thinking of me. I could feel it. That’s what brought me downstairs,” he said. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you—”
“Killian. Please. Not here.”