Page 41 of Witchful Thinking
Prom night wasn’t anything special. They went together as friends, dancing in a circle with their classmates and filling up on food from the open buffet. Alex was a gentleman, asking her to dance but kept his hands to himself. He went to the after-party at the lake. She went home resigned to the fact that Alex only saw her as a good friend and nothing more.
“I’m glad she did,” Alex said quietly. “I was so careless. Who knows what would’ve happened if she hadn’t said anything?”
Who knows? She could find out once and for all. She reached out and took his hand.
Alex didn’t move, but he faced her. She closed her eyes. A vision shimmered before her. He stood on the decorated dock of Grove Lake on prom night in a borrowed suit and dress shoes while he watched Lucy. He was eighteen again, his face fresh and glowing with hope. She, in a dress the color of ocean foam, swayed and mouthed the words to the slow-burn eighties pop song. He approached her and took her into his arms. They pressed their foreheads together and swayed to the song being played on a distant radio on the shore. He leaned down and he pressed his lips to hers. Lucy did a double take at the scene before her. Whoa. In all her previous visions, there never was a kiss on prom night. They flirted and teased each other, but they hadn’t kissed. Euphoria shot through her veins at the sight of this tender embrace worthy of a movie screen.
Her phone trilled. The vision fizzled away leaving her bereft. Her eyes snapped open. Alex stood there watching her. She dropped his hand, breaking the connection.
She checked her phone. It was Ursula texting her an update. “The bridesmaid dress fitting got moved up. I have to go.”
“Sure. I’ll see you around the neighborhood.”
Lucy walked away, but he called to her. “Hey, Lu.”
She turned to him. “Yes?”
“Do you know what color your dress is? I want to match you.”
“I don’t know yet.” Lucy quickly explained to him her color choices. Alex listened. He looked her over deliberately slowly, practically drank her in like an icy glass of water on a humid day. One corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Pick blue,” Alex suggested. “You’ll look gorgeous, no matter what you’re wearing, but blue is made for you.”
Everything within her felt light. She knew merfolk were charming, but—Mercy. She stood a little taller, buoyed by his words. Alex looked down at his shoes, and Lucy noticed his ears were turning a little red. He waved and turned away from her. Lucy watched him head toward the parking lot. He had been in the zip code for less than three weeks and she wanted to take a few laps with him. She usually wasn’t so bold with such thoughts, but being around him made her feel a bit bolder. Maybe it was the spell.
Chapter Twelve
The Freya Grove Annual Cakewalk Fundraiser was being held in the Grove Park, underneath the wooden picnic shelter, safe from the sun. It was a lovely summer Sunday with a wide blue sky and bright sunshine, a good day for cake. A mobile DJ table complete with large speakers, adjustable monitors, and gear was set up next to a speaker’s podium. Alex stood around with the prospective buyers, who pointed and schemed on which dessert they were going to bid on. The place was an open-space area with twenty tables set up in a horseshoe pattern. Each baker was allotted a table for their dessert. The more ambitious bakers not only had their dessert set up but had themed decorations and signs to draw attention to their treat. Colorful plates of confetti cake, chocolate-dipped sponge, and other tempting treats were a few of the items on display. He nodded his head, impressed with the setup. This wasn’t his mom’s cakewalk, which consisted of people walking around, musical-chairs style, hoping to get a chance to get their favorite dessert. Every table was taken but one. Lucy’s table was empty—she wasn’t there yet. Alex glanced at his watch. She’d texted him that she’d meet him bright and early. The cakewalk was starting soon. A woman with the same big brown eyes he’d been staring into for the last month, wearing a pink floral dress, came up to him.
She clutched a clipboard to her side tightly. “Hey, Alex. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Ursula. Lucy’s cousin.”
“Oh. Yes, of course. It’s not every day someone threatens me with glitter.”
“Well, yes.” Ursula gave him a sharp smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Alex extended his hand to her. She briefly took it, then let it go.
“Have you heard from Lucy? We’re going to start in about twenty minutes, and well—” Ursula motioned over to the empty table with a raised brow. Disappointment seemed to radiate off her in waves.
“I’m sure she’ll be here.”
“Do me a favor. Remind Lucy. Let her know we’re really looking forward to having a peek at her—um…creation.”
Something about her bemused tone brushed him the wrong way. Ursula seemed a little intense about this event. She nodded, then left Alex alone. He watched as she triple-checked with every single baker about their cake table and straightened out anything that was crooked.
Ten minutes before the start time, Lucy appeared from the parking lot. She wore a blue watercolor dress that hit her knee, ballooned out, and made her look like an elegant jellyfish. A tote bag swung from her elbow. Her ballet flats shuffled on the ground as she walked slowly, holding her container. It was clear she was making sure to watch out for sticks and rocks that might trip her and send the cake flying out of her hands. The thought made him nervous, and he raced over. Alex met her halfway, taking the cake stand from her and bringing it to her table. She thanked him.
Lucy gestured to her dessert. “Meet Claude.”
“You named your cake Claude.”
“Yes, I named Claude after the Impressionist painter.”
“Why?” Alex asked, worried. She looked very flushed. Maybe she needed some cold water.
“Because it’s French, and some people will think it looks like a whole mess.”
Alex truly looked at the croquembouche. Words failed him, but then he decided on the truth. “Your croquembouche looks—”