I know from my sister that Kiki is strapped for cash. She had ample savings and investments but most of them were frozen following Drake’s arrest. She moved from a sprawling colonial in the glitziest part of Sparkwood to a small cabin in the hills.
It’s got great bones but damn, it needs some love. The sheetrock is cracked in spots, the paint chipping, the floors uneven and dull from years of wear. But over the last few weeks, she’s really warmed the place up with her homey touches. Splashes of her personality daring to emerge from the armor she erected to protect her heart from the onslaught of ill will.
She’s got a hell of an eye, playing off the rustic bones of the cabin and tempering them with soft touches of lace and flowers. One piece in particular captures my attention—a landscape painted in vivid oil, resting in an ornate gilded frame, hung against the rough-hewn wall of the dining space.
It absolutely should not work, but it does.
“She doesn’t match anything in here, does she?” Kiki asksfrom her spot at the kitchen table. “Doesn’t matter, I love her. One of the few things I was allowed to bring with me from my… former life.”
I drop into a chair at the table as she sets a plate in front of me. “That’s Sparkwood, isn’t it?”
Kiki nods, piling my plate high with pasta. “He’s a local artist. Discovered his work at the annual art fair and knew I needed that piece as a reminder of how gorgeous my hometown is. Want to hear something ironic?”
“Absolutely.” I sample a bite of sauce. “Damn, this is good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she says, pulling one leg up and tucking it under her. “I have talents.”
I’m sure you have many of them.
I bite my lip, literally press my mouth shut to keep from spewing that observation onto the dinner table.
“It’s delicious and much appreciated. Now back to what you were saying about irony.” Look, I need to get this conversation back on track before my libido gets any more of a foothold.
She sips her wine, her conversation thread momentarily forgotten. “What was I saying? Shit, don’t get old, Eddie. Your memory goes to hell, along with everything else.”
I rest my chin on my hand, eyes locked on her face. “From where I’m sitting, seems things only get better with age.”
That lands. A hint of color crawls up her cheeks and she hides behind her hand. “That was good.”
“True, too.” Even though she doesn’t believe me.
“My ancestors were accused of witchcraft.”
I choke on my beer, shocked by the sudden segue. “What?”
“That’s the irony of my life. My ancestors were… different. Healers. Outspoken outsiders. I don’t know all the details but their lives were upended before being declared innocent. Seems I’m carrying on the family tradition.”
I have two choices, lean into the moment or lean into humor and hopefully help her forget the moment.
She has enough time to ruminate on her life as it currently stands, so I go with the second option.
“Is this your way of telling me you can cast a spell on my ass if I fall out of line?”
Happiness breaks across her face like the sun breaking free of the clouds. “Just think of all the fun spells I could cast on you.”
“No,” I argue with a smile. “Let’s not do that.”
Kiki leans over, wrapping her slender fingers around my hand. “You’re the last person I’d ever hurt.”
My thumb glides over her hand, tightening my grip, a gentle moment passing between us. A hint of things still unspoken.
She tilts her head, shooting me a conspiratorial wink. “Since it’s just us adults tonight, I have an idea.”
Oh yes, I like where this is going.
“Tell me about Deirdre.”
For fuck’s sake, that is not at all the path I thought we were heading.
