Chapter One
“I refuse to be married in white,” Ari said. “I simply won’t wear a white dress. Neither will Meagan. We aren’t virgins, we’re both forty, and we aren’t even straight. Nobody’s giving away anything that hasn’t already been out the barn door and around the track. Since we’re getting married in summer, I want to wear purple and she’s wearing green.”
I suppressed a laugh and just nodded. Ari and I were flipping through bridal magazines, looking at dresses. She and Meagan were getting married on July 12, and that gave us five months to get everything ready. Since Meagan’s parents refused to take part in their daughter’s big, magical gay wedding, we were coming up with cost-saving ideas that would be beautiful, as well.
“So, do you have a theme yet?” I asked, picking up another sandwich and biting into it. We were eating lunch on my back porch. Even though it was still chilly—it was a rainy 58 degrees—we both were more than ready for some fresh air and sunshine. The fresh air, we had. The sunshine, not so much.
“We’re thinking of a wisteria garden party theme…Meagan wants a tea instead of a dinner, and I like that idea. Oh, hey, that brings me to another question. Can we hold the wedding in your backyard?” Ari tossed the magazine to the side and picked up another one, starting to leaf through it. “None of these is right. I haven’t seen a dress I like.”
“Of course you can. Hold the wedding here, that is. And may I suggest that you look at ball gowns? I know it’s not the typical thing, but most of them are more colorful than wedding dresses, and usually a lot prettier. I bet you could find something in that direction.” I set down The Mature Bride, which was a magazine that focused on women over thirty who were getting married. Ari and Meagan, like me, were well over that. “Honestly, thirty is not old. Hell, I’m forty-one and I don’t even feel that old—just…a little seasoned.”
As I focused on my lunch, a gust of fresh air whistled past. The wind was coming in off the Salish Sea, and the sound of birdsong echoed from tree to tree. We were due for rain again, but the ground smelled like it was waking up, and I could feel the rhythms of the earth shift and turn as the equinox drew near. We were headed for Ostara, the spring celebration of balance and new beginnings, and everywhere, I could see the signs that the world was preparing to grow and stretch out, like a rose whose petals were unfolding.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll run the idea by Meagan and we’ll look online. We’d rather spend the bulk of our money on a fabulous party and honeymoon than on the dresses and flowers. Though I insist on having wisteria there, and black roses—well, the ones that look black.” She took a long sip of her coffee.
“What does Meagan want?” I finished my ham sandwich and leaned back, sipping my mocha.
“She’s left the flowers up to me. In exchange, she gets to pick our first dance song. We’re both writing our own vows, and we both are agreeing on the menu for the tea and the cake. I wanted chocolate, she wanted tres leches, so we compromised on a chocolate-caramel cake.” She shook her head, grinning. “I never thought I’d be planning a wedding. I really didn’t believe that I’d ever meet anybody I could get along with enough to commit to.”
At first, when I realized that Ari and Meagan were serious, I had a spate of jealousy, worrying that I might lose my best friend. But Meagan—whom I had loathed in high school—had turned out to be a decent adult once she came out of the closet. I no longer worried about that. It occurred to me that Ari might have felt the same way when I had gotten married to Ellison, and I felt embarrassed that I had pulled away from her for so many years, thanks to Ellison’s dislike of all things magical. With me and my best friend both being witches, he really got his nose out of joint when she came to visit. Meagan actually welcomed me in like a sister.
“Well, you picked a winner,” I said. “And you know I’d say something if I didn’t believe that.”
“I know—you sure did when you first found out who she was. No more ‘Mean Meagan,’ right?” Ari laughed.
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m sorry I was so whiny about her.”
“Well, she was a piece of work back in high school. So, are you ready to tackle your attic?”
I nodded, staring into my coffee mug morosely. “Yeah. But the caffeine’s done.”
“Get your butt out of the chair, January. We can have more when we’re done,” she said with a laugh. “Dangle that carrot in front of you.”
I grumbled but picked up my dishes. Ari gathered her things and we headed back inside as the clouds broke and a huge deluge came gushing down from the sky. Grateful that the porch was enclosed, I took one last deep breath of the air that hung heavy with the scents of cedar and fir, of geosim and pungent earth, and we headed inside to clean out the attic.
When I moved back to Moonshadow Bay after inheriting my parents’ house, I had changed out some of the furniture for my own, and I had finally faced reality and gone through the closets and cleared out my mother’s and father’s clothing. It had been hard—I still missed them dreadfully—but it was time, and I needed the space. But I’d left the attic alone. Now, it was time to tackle whatever was up there. Ari had agreed to help me.
The attic was accessible through a trap door in the hallway ceiling outside the master bedroom. I carried a stepstool up to the second floor so that I could catch hold of the ring attached to the trap door. As the door opened, a retractable set of stairs eased down. They appeared flimsy, but my father—who had been something of a handyman—had reinforced them so they were strong and sturdy. He had also affixed a locking mechanism to the bottom stair so the steps couldn’t jog loose and fold up when someone was on them.
I moved the stepstool and flipped on the light to the attic. The switch was located on the wall beneath the attic, and that made it possible to see as we headed up the steps. My father had been a practical man and had made life as easy as he could for my mother and himself.
I glanced at Ari. “Ready?”
She nodded. She was carrying a broom and a wet-mop. I was armed with a duster and a box of heavy-duty garbage bags. “And able.”
“Then onward, Wheeler!” I pointed to the stairs. “You first.”
“You just want me to make sure there aren’t any spiders hanging out at the top.”
“You know me well,” I said, laughing. I wasn’t arachnophobic, but I wasn’t that fond of the little buggers. I loved snakes, but spiders were not my favorite creatures.
The attic was well-kept. My mother had deep cleaned the house from top to bottom twice a year, so even though there was dust and a few cobwebs, and an occasional spider web, it wasn’t the attic from a horror movie. In fact, it was rather cozy. My father had tiled the floor, saying that, should the roof ever leak, no hardwoods or carpet would get ruined or spawn mold. The large room was finished, and my mother had painted the walls a creamy white to bring in more light through the windows on either end. The attic was almost the size of the second story.
One side was used for storage, and my mother had turned the other side into a crafting sanctuary. While she had kept her magical supplies in the library for easy access, she stored all her fabric and yarn and scrapbooking supplies in the attic. There was also a long folding table and several chairs, along with a very bright LED lamp. There was also a TV up here. I had only been back in Moonshadow Bay three months, and as I said, I had left the attic alone during that time.