Page 61 of Dream Weaver

ABBY

I stalked over to Walt, not at all pleased. It wasn’t often that I got invited “out,” even if that was just snacks in the metal shop. The urge to accept the invitation was even more rare, but this time, I really wanted to stay. Dinner with Cooper had been great, and I wouldn’t have minded more downtime with him — even with his mother there. Besides, seeing his mother exude unequivocal love switched on my inner anthropologist. Normal families were a source of endless fascination to me.

But no such luck. Not with Walt gesturing me over.

“Yes… Absolutely…” He nodded to the person on the other end of the line. “Not a problem.”

I stomped to the threshold of Walt’s office just as he concluded the call. “Perfect. I’ll send her over right now.”

I bristled. Whomever he was sending had better not be me.

Walt jotted an address on a slip of paper and handed it to me. “That was that woman — Miss Steinmeier. You know, the one who wants the brazier.”

“The one who’ll get her braziernext month,” I corrected.

The witch,I nearly added, but I kept that to myself.

Walt shook his head. “You’re ahead of schedule with the axes, thanks to Cooper’s help.”

True. But we were on a roll. Why stop now?

“We can’t afford to lose her,” Walt said grimly.

For one fire pit? I frowned. Could witches cast mind-spells over the phone?

He rattled a set of keys. “Here, take the van. Whatever she wants, make it happen. You got that?”

“Listen, Walt—”

My boss stuck up a hand, definitely not in an indulgent mood. “The axes are important, but this is too. Now, go.” Every line in his face said,Don’t mess this up.Then he lightened up a little. “She says she has faith in you. I have faith in you too.”

Hmm. Was that Liselle’s mind-bending, or did that come from the heart?

Still, it was like I’d told my father. A job was a job, and there was only so far I could push my boss. Also, Liselle was a third-class witch at best. I had nothing to fear from her. I just had to watch my step so she wouldn’t figuremeout.

A glance at the clock — two p.m. — had me hurrying along. If I was going to fit in this house call before picking up Claire from school, I had to get moving.

“Thanks so much,” I said, selecting a cinnamon doughnut from the box Cooper’s mother offered on my way out. At the door, I turned back to look at Cooper. Our eyes met one more time. And, oh. So much longing, so much said without uttering a word.

“Abby…” Walt grumbled.

Dammit. I did an about-face and marched to his van, munching the doughnut on the way.

The more I drove, the more bitter my mood became. First, my father, then having to turn down a nice invitation, and now this. I cursed all the rubbernecking tourists who drove at painfully slow speeds, and I grumbled at every McMansion and golf course I passed along Jacks Canyon Road. A golf course. With grass. In the desert.

I made a face. Okay, so maybe my values aligned with my father’s in one small way.

My frown deepened as another thought struck me. Did witches play golf?

I mulled that over, only half concentrating on the road. When a pickup sped by in the opposite direction, something caught my eye, and I whipped around. I turned back to watch it in the rearview mirror, unable to make out whatever it was that had caught my attention before it faded out of sight.

Shifting in my seat, I did my best to focus on the task ahead. Several twists and turns later, I pulled up to the entrance of a gated cul-de-sac, where a security guy leaned out of a little shed.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

I checked the address Walt had scribbled down. Wow. Maybe he was right about hanging on to this customer, witch or no witch. The development screamed big money — really big money, judging by the way houses backed on to the immaculate golf course. The helicopter landing pad in the middle of the development was another clue. Whoever lived here had the cash to buy magnificent views and major privacy.

“I’m here to see Liselle Steinmeier,” I said, going for anI so belong herevibe.

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