Page 1 of Spellbound
1
Emma Grayce
I didn’t wantto be a ball buster.
But now my paper expected exactly that. Why? No idea. Maybe they had me confused with someone else. Someone who enjoyed the underhandedness of it. Someone who relished going for the jugular. I spent the last two years atTheAlertcovering fluff pieces. No political takedowns; no ruined reputations. Didn’t I like that better?
Um, no.
But the best place to grab a chowder bowl, status of construction in the tunnel, the Patriots’ chance at the Super Bowl—this was news the good citizens of Beantown couldn’t get through their day without. And it didn’t leave bile swimming in my throat. I wrote it because I could, because it filled column inches. And, well, because it paid the bills. But did it feed my soul?
Not for a solitary moment of my wasted time.
Now my associate editor wanted me to dig up dirt on some lowlife athlete who cheated on his girlfriend and then went on a shopping spree with her credit card. Allegedly anyway, but whatever. So not in my wheelhouse.
My boss didn’t see it that way.
“Emma Grayce, you gotta go out there and bust some balls!” Perry Thompson boomed this from across the room with an encouraging swing of his fist—his signature move—and that familiar heaviness settled in my stomach. “Come back with the truth, or, well, you know, the story that’ll sell papers.”
I caved and delivered my initial report with very little research and no photographic evidence, same as any of my unimaginative co-workers might. I didn’t have to continue the witch hunt now, did I? All I had to do was say no, right? Remind him I was off-duty as of five o’clock, scheduled for a couple of weeks off. And if the stars aligned, I’d get a call about the career change I was excited for. The one thatwouldfuel my soul.
I blew wispy bangs out of my face and reached for the dish of leftover Halloween chocolates. With or withoutthe call, there was no way I could—or would—blow off my college bestie’s wedding. I promised to be a bridesmaid, for heaven’s sake. Stephanie had already messaged me four times today, each time raging that a snarky friend-slash-family member-slash-total stranger had questioned the theme of her nuptials.
I could understand their confusion. As soon as I finished the email I was composing, I picked up my phone to mine my friend’s thought process. My friend who was crying. Again.Of course.
“Why does everyone assume I’d want either a destination wedding at the beach or something white lace and red roses? What’s the matter with wanting something different and fun?” the bride-to-be complained aloud amidst a bout of sniffling sobs. “If people want a tropical vacation in the fall, they can damn well plan it for themselves.” Stephanie broke from her diatribe to suck in a breath, and I knew what was coming. I’d heard this all before. “Who doesn’t love the small town vibe?”
“Steph, from the photos you’ve posted, your little town is wicked cute. Who wouldn’t fall straight in love with anyplace called Kissing Creek? But the sinister season and everlasting love, well, they’re not your ordinary bedfellows.”
Which was somewhat disappointing. I loved weddings, and love. Well, the idea of love anyway. I’d been in three weddings this year and still held hope I’d find the man of my dreams.Cliché much, EG?
A girl had to have faith.
The tinny whir of an electric motor echoed through the line. Stephanie must be at her bakery— creatively named Cruller Me Happy—whipping up a batch of something that would make my taste buds weep in ecstasy.
Perry marched past my office window, a red licorice dangling from between his lips and a sheet of paper clutched in one fist. His other hand was raised to the side of his head with his pinkie and thumb spread in the classiccall memime.
What now?
Stephanie hiccupped on the other end of the line, then let out a long sigh. “My momma and daddy were married here on Halloween, thirty-five years ago. We have the prettiest town square with big trees and a gazebo and the cutest water tower that people spray paint messages on. It even has a playground for the kids. Don’t you just love the sound of children laughing and playing in the park?”
Sure, as much as the next person, but—I muffled my sigh.“It’s magical.”
“Right?” Stephanie’s tone had definitely perked up. “I’ve wanted a themed wedding since the first time I saw their wedding photos. Did I tell you we decorated the rotunda with the most adorable fall colored twinkling lights? They’re red and orange, and, oh my goodness, simply enchanting.” Without pausing for breath or a segue, she careened right into, “And, well, there’s my nana. She would be heartbroken if she couldn’t watch me say my vows.”
I ignored the flashing light signaling an incoming call on my office line, popped another mini Snickers, and picked up the save-the-date card held down by a papier mache jack-o-lantern. It resembled a tarot card.The Lovers.I knew when I’d been beaten.
“Steph, it’s your day, yours and Grant’s. If a Halloween wedding in a water tower town is how you want to start your life together, I’m there for you.”
Instantly cheered, Stephanie giggled, sounding damn near chipper. “Aww, Emma Grayce, you’ve been there for me since I needed help editing my papers for Freshman English. You’ve had such creative ideas for the decorations, and I’m so excited at how the reception is coming along. But honey”—her voice lowered conspiratorially—“you didn’t RSVP for a plus one. If you need help lining up a date, I’m sure I can find someone. Mrs. Cates’ grandson will be in town, I hear. Jeremiah, I think his name is, but who can remember? The head count isvery important.”
Oh, God. Me, Colleen—our suitemate from junior and senior year—and Stephanie’s sister, Shea, had spent months tracking down the perfect black wedding dress—isn’t that just the best idea?—and creating the Halloween—but not the creepy kind, K?—wedding of Stephanie’s dreams. Now here was another level of bridesmaid hell. I had hoped if I didn’t bring it up, Stephanie wouldn’t notice I was solo until it was too late. When this wedding was over, I may head for that tropical vacation after all.
An inter-office chat notification popped up on my computer monitor. Perry. I NEED TO SEE YOU IN MY OFFICE. I checked the clock hanging on the wall. Barely ten; probably too early to drink.
“You’re right, Steph, and I’m sorry. But with everything I’ve had on my plate lately—work, you know, plus everything we’ve been tackling for the wedding—it completely slipped my mind.” I hoped I’d added the proper amount of contrition to my voice, and hidden my dismay at being thwarted. “I’m sure I can drum up my own guy.”Or not. “But when it comes to your beautiful day, I’m on it. Just let me know what you need.” Besties for life or not, I wondered how badly I’d regret the offer.
I disconnected my call with Stephanie and with an irritating combination of annoyance and trepidation, slapped away the orange and purple crepe paper streamers hanging from my door frame and marched into Perry’s office. He was reclined in his wooden chair with his feet propped on the desk. A slim letter opener paused in his hand, the tip buried under his fingernail.Such a classy guy.His scuffed loafers dropped to the floor at my approach.
