Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Mom?”
“How could you not tell me you were engaged?”
“Oh.”
“Oh. Is that all you have to say? I had to find out about it from Otto at the bakery on my morning walk.”
“Otto from the bakery told you Alistair and I were getting married?”
“And Minh and Jackie across the road. They were out watering their garden!” exclaims Mom. “Nadine yelled out something as she rode past on her moped, but she was going too fast for me to hear. The point is, everybody knew except me!”
“That’s really only three people that we can be sure of. Not exactly everybody.”
“Lilah!”
I wince at the ringing in my ear. Mom always did have a great set of lungs on her. “Um. Yes, Mom. You’re upset. But the thing is—”
“I know we’ve had our issues over the years, but this is very disappointing, not to mention reckless behavior. You’ve barely known him a week. How could you be so foolish?”
“I know. But if you’d just listen—”
“You’ve hurt your father’s feelings.”
“My feelings are fine,” my father calls out in the background.
Oh my God. “Mom, please let me explain.”
“We haven’t even met this man.”
“May I?” Alistair holds out a hand. Hell yes, he can take the call if he wants. He clears his throat and says, “Ma’am, this is...Yes...If I could just...I would always try to be worthy of your daughter, of course, but...Sorry...Yes...I understand and...Hello?”
I accept the phone back without comment.
“We’re expected for lunch at one,” he says. “Probably best not to be late.”
“Okay.”
“She hung up on me,” he says in surprise. “I can’t remember the last time someone hung up on me.”
“It would seem my mother is experiencing a lot of big feelings right now. Try not to take it personally.”
“She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. To tell her the engagement isn’t real.”
“I’m not entirely sure that would have stopped the yelling. But never mind. We’ll break it to her at lunch.” And then something occurs to me. “How do we even get out of here without a swarm of media following us?”
His smile is almost childlike with glee. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
18
Saturday
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I say, staring at Good Witch Willow’s apartment door.
Alistair just picks another leaf out of my hair. This is my week for incorporating random greenery in my hairdos, apparently. His plan for escaping the media worked and then some. We made it all the way downtown without a single paparazzo on our tail. It turns out there’s a hidden wooden door in the hedge behind his house. Very Secret Garden. The neighboring property houses a rustic (but sprawling) wood cabin, with the biggest hot tub in creation, owned by a retired music producer. He was good friends with the original owner of Alistair’s house. They used to play cards several nights a week while taking turns working their way through each other’s wine cellar, hence the gate. But now it provides a discreet exit for either party.
Kevin, the previously mentioned music producer, didn’t seem surprised to find us standing on his back deck this morning, disheveled from fighting the overgrown shrubbery. He just tossed Alistair the keys to a vintage cherry-red Cadillac with a nod.
Now here we are. All the way up in the old elevator, Alistair was agitated. The toe of his boot wouldn’t stop tap-tap-tapping. But now he’s back to his usual take-charge self. “It’s going to be fine. I contacted Willow through her website, and she agreed to see us. We’re just going to have a little talk.”
“That’s the first time you’ve gotten her name right. How much is she charging you for this emergency witching session?”
“It doesn’t matter. Your peace of mind is worth it.”
“What exactly are you going to ask her?” I say. “Just out of curiosity...”
He gives me a wink and knocks on the door.
As pleasant as the idea of him magically sorting all of this out is, I don’t see him succeeding. Though his determination to try is admirable. Heartwarming.
Willow opens the door wearing a patchwork silk robe, and her long silver hair is flowing down her back. “If it isn’t bonny Prince Charming.”
“Not really a prince,” says Alistair smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Willow snorts. “Get that smile off your face. Don’t bother to lie to me, boy. Come in before my neighbors get nosy.”
Willow is a maximalist. Her apartment is small and colorful and packed to the ceiling with crystals and dried flowers, old black-and-white photos and books, ceramic animals, and an upright piano. It’s the sort of space you could spend a day just poking around, never knowing what you might find.
“This is amazing,” I say in awe.
Willow watches me with a faint frown. “Thank you, Lilah. I don’t know that it’s good to see you again.”
“Right back at you, Willow.”