The Christmas Witch Page 10

‘Just like Nancy Drew.’ Mina turned to Sutton. ‘Look, I’m going to head off. But have a great time and please try to ignore my cousin. Seeing as he’s family, I’m allowed to tell you he’s trouble. A real player. Make sure to warn any other women you chat to, too.’

  Sutton laughed awkwardly as Huxley scowled. ‘Oh-kay, thanks.’

  Good deed done, Mina ditched her glass on a bar table and gave Sutton a hug. ‘I’ll see you at work.’

  Feeling reassured, she walked away. She knew Huxley wouldn’t dare trying any magical persuasion on Sutton, knowing she was Mina’s workmate. Besides, Sutton was a clever girl, apart from her Wiccan aspirations. She’d suss out his intentions quick smart.

  Outside, Mina shoved her hands in her pockets near the church’s graffitied doors. A Tool track spilled into the shadowy side alley. She contemplated grabbing some dinner first or just heading to her car and eating whatever she could find in the pantry. Other black-clad punters hovered about, smoking cigarettes and nattering. It looked like the overspill from a Halloween ball.

  A lone figure strolled past, distracting her from her indecision. Her heart stuttered. The Adelaide Hills seemed to be shrinking by the millisecond. It was none other than Jadon in an off-duty tan bomber jacket, black jeans and, her weakness, Caterpillar boots. What was he doing in the bigger, more touristy town of Drafers that evening? It was like he had a radar for whenever she was in a questionable situation, or maybe that just summed up her life in general.

  His gaze snagged with hers, killing her attempt to hide by playing statue. Behind him, a streetlight excitedly flickered before burning out. ‘Oh, hey.’

  She edged forwards, once again cursing her life. ‘H-hi.’

  He glanced behind her at the church-turned-club. ‘This another of your Friday night hangouts?’

  ‘No,’ she said a little too loudly, causing a few heads to turn. She reverted to a more normal tone. ‘Sutton dragged me here.’ Unable to help herself, she teased, ‘Were you planning to head in?’

  ‘Nah … not sure it looks like my scene.’ He shifted his feet. Those Caterpillars. ‘I was just down picking up something for my dad, actually. Thought I’d take advantage of the late-night shopping hours.’

  It was nice to hear that Jadon’s social life could be as quiet as hers away from his usual big-city existence. It was also better news than discovering he was off to a late-night rendezvous with serial dater Gardenia.

  He darted a glance at her. ‘You off someplace else?’

  ‘Nup. Well, maybe just to grab a bite to eat …’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d thought to play it cool.

  Jadon raised his eyebrows. ‘Mind if I join you? I could do with something and I’ve got no idea what’s good around here. I mean, if that’s okay.’

  Mina’s foolish heart jumped about in her chest. She reminded herself that he was just asking her out of convenience, because she was vaguely acquainted with him and the area, and because she was right there, nothing more. Still … it was always better dining with company.

  ‘Fine with me,’ she conceded. ‘All right, how hungry are you?’

  He half-smiled. ‘Pretty hungry.’

  ‘Any culinary preference?’

  ‘I’m kinda craving some Italian.’ He ducked his head. Of course, though, he was missing Milan, not thinking about her. ‘But I’m not fussy.’

  Mina nodded. ‘Think I know just the place.’

  The dimly lit restaurant, where Mina sat with Jadon, could have been from a movie set. It had exposed brick walls, gingham tablecloths, chalkboard specials, and waitstaff bustling about. Festive Elvis tunes also added to the cosiness.

  Jadon eyed her across the table, within knee-bumping distance, a laminated menu in his hand. ‘What looks good to you?’

  ‘Him’ was the first word that sprang to mind. Which was wrong on so many levels. Maybe the restaurant’s candle lighting and intimate vibe wasn’t such a good idea after all …

  ‘Um, I was thinking of going the midnight spaghetti,’ she jabbered. ‘Apparently, it’s so named because busy chefs would whip it up after coming home from a long day. There’s not much more than garlic and olive oil to it.’

  The garlic was also a reminder to herself that this was not a date.

  ‘The spaghettata di mezzanotte. Good choice.’

  Unlike Riley, Jadon didn’t mangle his Italian pronunciations. The words just rolled melodically off his tongue. Mina reached blindly for a bread roll from the basket, but her fingertips connected with something warm rather than a fluffy bun. His fingers. Electricity whirred through her body. She jerked her hand back.

  ‘Ha, looks like we’re both after the same thing,’ Jadon joked. If only. ‘Want to split the roll? Don’t want to ruin my appetite. I’ve decided on the scaloppine alla Fiorentina.’ He mock-patted his rock-hard stomach.

  ‘Split the roll? Hmm … that depends if you prefer the top or bottom.’

  Oh, sweet Mother Earth. Could she have uttered something ickier? What the hell was wrong with her brain?

  The corners of Jadon’s mouth quivered, though he, at least, kept things professional. ‘The crusty top’s my preference.’

  ‘Looks like we’re a perfect match then.’ Mina hastily reached for a roll to tear apart. ‘I like the soft underside.’

  After they’d inhaled some bread, and a frizzy-haired waitress had taken their orders, Jadon excused himself for the gents’. Mina, meanwhile, gave herself a pep talk about how to behave around the boss’s son while tidying the tableware. You couldn’t take the La Befana out of a girl … The decorative basil plant at the table’s centre caught her eye. With its wilting leaves, it seemed to have been forgotten in the waitstaff’s stampede to get orders to tables.

  Mina reached for the bottle of sparkling water, discreetly pouring some into the soil. Carbonated water, full of minerals and extra carbon dioxide, was even better for greenery than the tap variety. The herb perked up before her eyes.

  ‘Watering plants at this hour?’

  Naturally, Jadon had chosen that moment to return, right when she looked like a garden-variety nutter.

  She shrugged as he took his seat, returning the bottle to its place. ‘It just looked like it needed a drink.’

  ‘Do you?’ The Earth seemed to tilt on its axis as she stared back into his hazel eyes. From candles … to wine? Then she realised he was now holding up the bottle of water she’d just put down. Anyway, her cocktail earlier had been enough.

  ‘A top-up would be great,’ she managed.

  He did the honours before filling his own glass. ‘What do you usually get up to on a weekend, anyway?’ he asked. ‘Aside from gardening and hanging out with emos.’

  ‘Ha, goths technically.’ Again, she cursed Sutton for making her look even weirder. ‘Um, just the usual stuff a single gal gets up to—shopping, socialising, fitness …’ For frog’s sake, why had she even mentioned her relationship status? Of course, she couldn’t talk about her ill-starred spell-selling or anything. She pressed on. ‘My family also take up a lot of my time, especially my sister right now with her bridal shower coming up.’

  No harm in reminding him about the occasion.

  Jadon nodded, softening his tone. ‘Your mum mentioned you just broke up with a guy recently too, right? Arlo someone? That’s always tough.’

  The personal question threw Mina, but then she had been the one to emphasise her aloneness. A kid in a highchair nearby squawked at his parents for more pizza, giving her a chance to gather her thoughts.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t that recent,’ she confessed. ‘Just still raw, I guess. I kind of have bad luck when it comes to relationships.’ More than he could ever know. But it was time to move the conversation on. ‘But, enough about me and my small-town life … tell me all about Milan. It must be amazing over there.’

  The waitress returned with their plates, interrupting things. Delicious aromas of tomato, garlic and olive oil permeated the air. After the waitress had doled out black pepp
er and parmesan, she trotted away again.

  Jadon reached for his napkin, laying it in his lap. Mina would have traded places with the fabric in a heartbeat, given the opportunity. Another life.

  ‘Unfortunately, it’s not a holiday twenty-four-seven,’ he replied. ‘It’s real life. Work. But it’s definitely a beautiful city. Still, Hilforest has equal charm.’

  Clearly, he was just being generous. Mina twirled some spaghetti with her fork. ‘I’m still so impressed you’re a furniture designer.’

  ‘Even if new gear doesn’t cut it with the old stuff?’ he teased.

  She laughed. ‘Touché. What made you choose Milan, anyway? Or did the city, indeed, pick you?’

  He sliced into his veal with his knife. ‘I suppose you could say that. I was doing a bit of work in the Big Apple, then heard about the job opportunity through the grapevine and got lucky. The Italian lifestyle—la dolce vita—was definitely a drawcard, and Milan’s proved a pretty good home for the past seven years.’

  Mina swallowed a silky mouthful of pasta. ‘And do you think you’ll stay there forever? Or are you the type to, you know, always have one foot out the door?’

  His gaze clouded over for a moment. ‘You think I’m a zingaro?’ A gypsy, in other words.

  ‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘I just thought that maybe you had the travel bug bad, that staying on the move might keep you creatively inspired.’

  This contrasted with her own life, with her never changing postcodes and feeling permanently tied to her tiny hometown.

  Jadon’s jaw relaxed. ‘Guess I’ve just followed the work, the opportunities. But I’ve always thought I’d return to Australia to settle down someday; plant deeper roots … at the right time, with the right person.’ Before she got swept away by her own fantasy, he added, ‘It’d be nice to be closer to Dad, mostly … Hey, it’s your song.’

  ‘My song?’ she echoed, her fork halfway to her mouth.

  ‘Yeah, the one about pasta fazool, like you mentioned the other day.’

  ‘Oh … Dean Martin, ha.’

  Jadon waved his fork in the air. ‘You know, I’ve always wondered why Italians sing about the moon so much. Like in this one, he talks about the moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie. And then there’s Frank Sinatra with Fly Me to the Moon and Moon River, that wedding track, Luna Mezz’o Mare, etcetera.’

  Mina shifted in her seat. ‘Well, both those Sinatra songs are actually covers, for the record. But I guess seeing as humans are mostly made up of water, it makes sense that, like the tides, we’re affected by the moon.’ Some more than others. ‘So why wouldn’t people sing about it, Italian or otherwise—’

  ‘Red rose?’

  A man in a beret hovered at their table, flourishing a lit-up silk flower. More novelty roses flashed in his cross-body bag. Mina recognised the seller from doing the rounds of local bars and cafes before.

  A blush crept over her face. ‘Oh, no, we’re not—’

  ‘I’ll take one,’ Jadon interrupted, reaching for his wallet. ‘Know what a plant lover you are.’ He shot her a wry smile. ‘And this flower glows. Consider it a thank you for being a good sport about changes at the shop.’

  She hadn’t been that good a sport.

  ‘Oh-kay.’

  After cash was exchanged, the seller handed her the flower. Jadon’s gesture was just in fun, but she still found herself holding the tacky, battery-powered rose like it was a prize-winner. And, as the street-seller moved on to his next victim, she allowed herself, just for a moment, to imagine how she and Jadon might have looked to a passer-by through the window … maybe even as perfect a pair as Arlo and Camila at that pizzeria many Sinatra moons ago.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Nonna, I have a question for you.’ Mina glanced down at her grandma, busily rearranging pots in her front yard that Sunday morning.

  Her nonna was using the rare bout of weekend sunshine to stage a plant sale, and Mina had lent a hand … even though she’d advertised the sale on SilverTrade. Things were currently quiet. Her mother was in her studio painting like a madwoman.

  ‘Si?’ her nonna replied, moving a soon-to-be-flowering frangipani plant to the front of her stand.

  Mina rubbed a mark on the wooden tabletop. ‘I was just wondering … have you ever had a spell go wrong? I mean, really, really wrong? Not just, you know, garnishing someone’s pizza with hair or anything like that.’

  ‘A spell go wrong?’ her nonna loudly repeated just as a brunette, carrying a baby in a sling, wandered in the gate.

  Mina waved like a loony at the woman. ‘Feel free to browse or ask us any questions.’

  Nodding awkwardly, the brunette headed over to check out the potted plants and cuttings lined up on the grass. A lawnmower started up in the distance.

  Nonna joined Mina behind the stand, lowering her voice. ‘There was one time when I turned a cousin’s face olive-green because he was behaving like a pig. He’d been cheating on his girlfriend. But I was young and couldn’t work out how to reverse the spell. So, it took a few days for his skin to fade. He had to miss an important job interview. He always said he could have ended up a banker instead of a butcher, if it weren’t for me.’

  ‘Old Alfonso?’ Mina whispered back. ‘A banker? As if. He would have deserved everything he got.’ The old guy, with his comb-over, remained a chauvinist nitwit.

  A blonde lady meandered down the drive next and crouched beside a ponytail palm with horsehair-like leaves. Mina returned her focus to her nonna. ‘And nothing worse than that has ever happened? Nothing that’s severely impacted another?’

  ‘No,’ Nonna Rosetta insisted. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Mina quickly looked away. ‘Just curious. I mean, I’m not as experienced as you in … the craft, so sometimes it worries me. You know, thinking about what could, potentially, go wrong. And maybe this time of year just heightens those feelings.’

  Her nonna patted her arm. ‘So long as you have good intentions, you’ll be fine.’

  Mina ducked her head. ‘Ta.’

  The sound of gravel being pulverised underfoot made her look up again. A burly man, with a shaved head and side rattail, was marching up the drive. He walked with out-turned legs, reminiscent of Queen Anne furniture, and wore a bulky motorcycle jacket. He didn’t look like a local. Though, of course, brawny men could like flowers …

  He paused at the stand, pushing wraparound shades up on his forehead. A teardrop tattoo glared beneath his right eye. Did that mean he’d once murdered someone, or just that he’d had a long stint in jail? He peered past Mina’s shoulder as though mentally casing the joint, taking advantage of the open house. Her nonna seemed to shrink even more beside her.

  ‘Got any other plants in the shed,’ he grunted, ‘or out the back?’

  It was a strange question, considering he’d just strode past the rest of the greenery without so much as glancing at it. Mina hated to judge a book by its cover, and yet …

  As she opened her mouth to respond, a gust of wind kicked up. Then, suddenly, before her eyes, the man vanished. Poof! Panicked, Mina glanced around, glad to find the other customers were still distracted by their plant-shopping. A ribbit, strangely, cut through the air. Her breath held, she leant forwards and spied a warty, slimy toad on the gravel. Plus, a discarded pair of wraparound sunnies. Dread swept over her.

  She darted a look at her nonna, hissing, ‘Did you mean to do that?’ The trick was an oldie but, okay, a goodie.

  Nonna Rosetta crossed her arms over her cardie-clad chest. ‘Yes, and my intentions were honourable: to get him away from my family. His were not. Not with that … eye drawing.’

  She’d noticed it as well then. The familiar fruity scent of Sicily by Dolce & Gabbana permeated the air. Mina’s mum appeared between them, as though sniffing out drama, wearing paint-splattered overalls and red lippy.

  ‘How’s the little plant sale going?’ she purred.

  ‘Fine.’ Mina stabbed a finger at the gravel, keeping her voic
e low. ‘Although, you up for a road trip later? It seems we have a toad of a customer to get rid of.’

  Nonna Rosetta nodded. ‘We can take him to the middle of nowhere. He’ll wake up with no memory of what happened or why he’s there. But he won’t ever want to behave so shadily again.’

  Enjoying the fun of it all, Sofia sashayed around to pick up their new ‘pet’. She held up the portly amphibian to the light, stroking its bumpy skin. ‘I’ve certainly kissed worse before. Sure, I can help.’ Then she turned to the blonde customer, now approaching with her ponytail palm. ‘Wonderful choice you’ve made there.’

  The blonde smile-grimaced, her eyes bugging out at the toad. Seeming too frightened to barter, she held out crumpled notes to Mina with her free hand. Mina accepted the cash with an overbright beam. Welcome to her crazy life.

  Mina hummed an old Livin’ Joy track as she headed into the shop Monday morning. She was feeling in a more positive frame of mind, despite staying up late relocating a crim-turned-toad. Plus, her guilt about Katy’s husband lingered. The silver lining was Clive was alive, and Mina had learned her lesson about spell-selling, the hard way.

  She didn’t want to think about whether her improved mood had something to do with seeing Jadon again, following their non-date. She said hello to Sutton, who was unboxing a ‘nest’ of circular wooden tables for display. Sutton waved, then returned her focus to the task.

  Mina wandered over to chuck her bag beneath the counter, darting a look through Jadon’s office window. Her mood deflated a little. The venetian blinds were pulled up, but the room was empty. She reached to remove her handbag strap but stopped mid-action.

  Sitting among the usual clutter on the countertop was a haggard-looking doll with silvery hair, a hawk nose and bad teeth. It also wore a witch’s hat and held a broomstick.

  A La Befana doll.

  Mina touched the toy in disbelief, only causing it to erupt with an evil cackle and its eyes to flash red. Urgh. She must have accidentally hit a hidden button!

  Paralysed, she stared at the doll. Could Jadon or Sutton have somehow guessed her true identity? Was this their way of saying she was ‘sprung’?