at any moment. I no longer worried about getting the job. I’d put the time and my magic into the samples they would taste test, so success shouldn’t be an issue. Well, I hoped not. And no, I didn’t feel guilty—use what you got, that was my new motto. Besides, we’d give them their money’s worth, and they’d be thrilled at the results. I was positive of that.
“Yes, but now you can’t be nervous. Now, since they’ll be here at any second, you need to be persuasive, charming, and sure we are the best in the business.”
He stopped pacing and thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “I can do that.”
Smiling reassuringly, I said, “Of course you can. You’re the most charming man I know.”
The bell on the door jangled, and the well-dressed politician’s wife and her daughter strolled in. Penelope Henderson was tall, almost six foot, with ash blonde hair cropped close to her head. The effect was one of aged beauty and almost larger than life eyes.
Grace, in contrast, was barely taller than five foot and had long sweeping hair and a pixyish face. Unlike her mother, who wore a fashionable jewel-toned tea-length dress, Grace was dressed simply. Jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. Of course, I’d bet money that her ensemble, as casual as it was, cost more than most of my wardrobe put together. That’s the way it was with high society.
“Mr. Winterson and Ms. Stevens, I presume? I am Mrs. Henderson, and this is my daughter, Grace.”
Moving forward I stretched out my hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Please, come in. We have some samples for you and some ideas to share for your wedding.” I directed this last comment toward Grace, which earned me an icy glare from the mother. Apparently, the bride wasn’t in charge.
The door jangled again, and I glanced over. As soon as I saw who’d entered the shop, my blood turned cold. This wasn’t a scenario I’d considered. And suddenly, I wasn’t nearly as sure of our success as I’d been just a few seconds earlier. Troy Bellamy stood at the shop entrance, straight as a rod, angry eyes focused on me.
“Jon, why don’t you escort our guests into the backroom to show them the samples we’ve prepared? I’ll take care of our new customer.” I spoke calmly, and my smooth voice didn’t betray my nerves. Not sure how I managed it, I pulled it off. Troy walked closer, stopping somewhere between the front door and the counter. What was he doing there?
Jon glanced at me and nodded. “Please, come with me. I know you’ll love what A Taste of Magic can offer your daughter’s wedding.”
Mrs. Henderson stiffened her back. “I’d prefer to discuss matters here, where the sun is shining in the windows.”
“It’s plenty light enough. I assure you.” I sent a pleading look to Jon. The last thing we needed was Troy creating havoc with the client of our career. Losing this job would hurt. Big time.
Jon, bless his soul, with no clue at all to the severity of the situation, took it in stride. “Let me show you. If you’re still uncomfortable, we can bring everything out front.”
The mother didn’t look convinced, but Grace stepped in. “We have an appointment with the caterer in an hour, Mother.
Let’s not make them move everything out here. That will just waste time.”
Nodding briskly, Penelope Henderson said, “True. So very true.” With her hand on her daughter’s elbow, Mrs. Henderson guided Grace toward Jon. “Let’s get this over with then.”
I told myself to breathe. Once Jon had escorted the Hendersons out of the lobby, I pulled myself up straight. Facing the interloper, who’d stayed quiet thus far, I said, “Troy. What a surprise.” An unpleasant one, but still a surprise. “What can I do for you?”
He sneered. “I figured it out. It was the cake, wasn’t it? You hexed me with a cake.”
Stiffening, I looked over my shoulder. If the Hendersons had heard that, there was no way A Taste of Magic would get their business. And that would ruin everything. I waited a pause, but luckily, it seemed okay. They weren’t running from the shop yet.
“Don’t deny it,” Troy said. “Like I said before, my mother is a witch. You can’t fool me.”
My mind ran through all the possibilities of each answer I could give him. I chose to stay on the side of safety. Keeping my voice low, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking