you right now. The answer is no. So let’s say the jig is up and you can tell me the truth about all this.”
Lochlan sat back with a deep sigh. “I miss the days when I could light up a pipe after dinner.”
“You can still do that,” Maggie offered.
“No,” he said. “Times have changed.” At that he brightened a little, as if he’d had a brainstorm. I wasn’t the only one with an expressive face. Looking at me eagerly, he said, “You had lunch with Fie Mistral. Would you be more likely to have an open mind about extranormal topics if Fie was to join us?”
I was sure my forehead crevices would never smooth out again. “What is this? A cult?”
“Saints preserve us,” Maggie said.
“Since when are you Catholic?” Lochlan asked Maggie.
“I’m no’,” she said. “But sometimes the references just fit. You know most of my people are believers.”
I stood up. “I’m going.”
“You can’t go without hearing us out. Promises were made,” Lochlan said. “It won’t hurt to listen and, if needs be, we can offer proof to back up all our claims.”
Saints help me. And, no, I’m not Catholic either, but Maggie’s right about the lingo.
“You have proof of magic? And creatures?” I said.
Lochlan gestured toward the chair. “You’ve come far. Indulge us with an hour of your time. What’s the harm? More coffee? Perhaps with Baileys? And we have some of Maisie’s famous bread pudding.”
“I’m not a fan of pudding,” I said slowly. Then looking between them I added, “But I am a fan of Baileys.”
Maggie practically jumped to her feet. “I’ll do the honors.”
Lochlan gestured to the chair again. “Please.” I sat. “Rita, this is not a simple legal transaction. You’ve not inherited the Hallows and residence and the sizable assets that go along with that…”
“Sizable assets?”
“Well, yes.”
I’m not greedy. At least I don’t think so. It’s just never come up before. But the idea of ‘sizable assets’ beyond the store, the house, and Romeo, had me thinking there was no reason why I couldn’t spend an hour listening to lunacy next to a cheerful fire with Baileys.
Lochlan picked up the story at the point where I’d interrupted.
“In all the world you’re chosen to be the next magistrate. The last judge passed away a few weeks ago. A marvelous fellow. Fair. Measured. Served for forty years.” I had nothing to add to that except to wonder how long it would take to make a fresh brew of coffee. “He’ll be missed. Anyway, it’s a lifetime appointment with perks. The store. The house. The car. And money.”
“How much?”
“Have not looked lately. A good bit.”
“Enough to pay for my daughter’s education? Even if she wants grad school?”
He chuckled. “Oh yes. Plenty enough for that.”
For a second I’d been lured into a state of starry-eyed dreaming about writing debt-free checks for tuition. Then I came back to earth. “I can’t be a judge. I don’t have a law degree. I barely managed a B.A. in Art History. And, even if I did have a law degree, I wouldn’t be able to be a judge here. In England. I can’t think of anyone less qualified.” I immediately realized how ridiculous that statement was and amended. “Okay. I can think of lots of people less qualified. But that doesn’t make me the right person for the job. Judges don’t have names like Rita. They have names like Judy.” Even I knew that was arguably the stupidest thing I’d ever said. For that reason, I sincerely hoped I wasn’t being recorded.
“You are the exact right person for the job, Rita.”
“Who says?”
“The Powers That Be.”
“Oh here we go,” I said.
Maggie returned with a tray laden with a silver pot of coffee, a bottle of Baileys, fresh mugs, and what appeared to be lemon crisp cookies. “Here we go.” She repeated my last words cheerfully without realizing I’d just said that… in a much different tone.
“The position offered is not one of presiding over mundane courts,” Lochlan went on. “You’ll decide disputes between parties who are part of the magical world.”
I took in a deep breath and received the unintended benefit of a nose full of fresh, dark Sumatra blend coffee. It was the perfect distraction. I glanced up at Maggie and said, “Thank you,” as she poured.
“Leavin’ two fingers at the top for Baileys,” she said.
Two fingers sounded like a lot to me. But what the hell? I might be needing a lot.
I nodded, took the bottle, poured one finger, then decided to add