Witch You Were Here Page 7

  The reminder of what happened last Christmas when my grandparents came by for a visit made my mom shudder. Emotions ran high in our house when it came to putting the two of them in the same room. The likelihood that one of the houses would suffer was high. It was better it was theirs rather than my parents’.

  "You have a point there. Hold on.” My mom grabbed my shoulder and then turned her attention to Aris. “You better watch over my daughter, or I’ll put you in a jar and shake you up real good.”

  I snickered. “You told her, mom.” I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and patted her arm. I started to push the doorbell, but before I could even touch it, the door opened. It was then that I noticed the slight glimmer around the doorstep. A magical doorstep, of course. I was proud of myself for figuring it out on my own. Professor Morison would have been proud too. An older man to be in his late sixties gestured us inside.

  "Ladies, the Madame is waiting for you in the salon." He wore a crisp suit of pinstripes and had a balding head of grey hair. He seemed to have kind eyes, but his face was all business, stern and unemotional.

  "Charlie," my mom greeted him, not waiting for permission before enveloping the man in a hug. The butler, I was assuming, seemed to tense for a moment, not sure what to do, then hugged her back. "It's been so long. I'm sorry I haven't been by to visit."

  Charlie cleared his throat, taking back on his professional look even though there was a shimmer of emotion in his eyes. "Well, it couldn't be helped. I knew you'd come back around eventually."

  "You mean, Bella knew." My mom grinned and then drew me forward. "This is my daughter, Maxine."

  "Ms. Maxine." Charlie nodded his head. "You are as lovely as your mother."

  I grinned at the man despite myself. "It's nice to meet you."

  "I used to spend all my time with Charlie and his wife, Bella," my mom explained as we moved further into the house so that Charlie could shut the door.

  "Where was grandmother?" I asked, curious to hear more about my mom's childhood. She didn't talk about it... well, ever. I hadn't really realized until now how much of her former life she had hidden from me until this moment. Sure, I'd asked about it, but she'd always said she had a normal childhood, nothing too exciting. Now that I knew what normal meant for her, I knew that wasn't true at all.

  "Well, your grandparents are involved with a lot of groups," my mom started, patting my arm. "They loved me, but I was never their highest priority."

  "Pish posh."

  Charlie, mom, and I all turned at the voice. Grandmother came gliding out of the other room, dressed in a mint green skirt suit. Stopping before us, she clasped her hands in front of her. "You were always my highest priority. Why do you think I spent all that time getting in good with the other families?"

  "To feel better about yourself?" my mom supplied with a sneer.

  Grandmother didn't rise to the bait. "To find you a good match of course. I never cared for the endless parties, charities, and dreary social events. Really, I did it all for my darling girl, the same way I'll do it to make sure Maxine has the future she deserves."

  This time it was my turn to step in. I'd had about enough of her so-called help. "Now, about that...?"

  "Charles," grandmother ignored me and addressed the butler, "please take Maxine's bag to her room and have Bella bring the tea. You know the one."

  "Yes, Madame." Charlie bent slightly at the waist to grandmother before taking my bag. He hobbled up the grand staircase filling either side of the foyer.

  Now that he wasn't grabbing my attention, I took a moment to look around the house. Well, if you could call it that. It was more like a museum. The Broomstein home had more of a lived-in feeling to it, and Ian and Paul's parents were never there. However, my grandmother was standing right here, but we might as well have been in a hospital with how... sterile it all felt.

  The ground was an off-white, the walls an egg cream color. Even the carpet on the stairs was another shade of clinical white. The poor staff. It would be a nightmare to keep this place clean. How did she do it with kids?

  “Aris, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” I murmured to the guardian, turning in a circle.

  "Come along now, Maxine," my grandmother called after me. I looked away from the foyer to see mom, and she had already moved into the salon. Preparing myself for a long boring chat that would probably involve my mom or me getting pissed off, I followed after them.

  The salon wasn't any better than the foyer, I was afraid to say. However, there was a splash of color on the sofas and fireplace, slight as it was. They were vanilla colors standing out in a sea of white.

  "I see you've redecorated," my mom mentioned as she took a seat on one of the loveseats. I took the seat next to her to play buffer between her and grandmother. Between the loveseat and the chair my grandmother took was a glass coffee table. The legs were white, and the entire top made of glass. I couldn't imagine keeping that thing clean. Think of all the fingerprints and coffee rings. You'd need magic just to keep it in tip-top shape.

  My grandmother pursed her lips and glanced around the room as if she hadn't noticed it. "Oh, yes, about five years ago." Her eyes moved to mine, and she smiled. "I tend to change the color scheme every decade or so, keeps things lively. However, seeing as you'll be here..." She turned her head from side to side and then lifted both hands in the air with a large flourishing wave.

  As if a ripple had been sent out through the house, the white coloring melted away and replacing it with a warm brown and suede scheme. The couch beneath me darkened to a chocolate brown. The coffee table morphed into something less breakable and more meant for durability. Jeez, she sure expected me to break something, not that she wasn't right.

  "There, that's better." Grandmother shifted in her seat as if she had just had a Swedish massage. "You'll feel more at home now, don't you think?"

  I exchanged a look with my mom and then slowly said, "Sure, if you say so."

  "Of course, I do." Grandmother crossed one ankle over the other and leaned slightly forward in her seat, an intent look on her face. "So, now that we have you here, I wanted to get started on the preparations for the coming out party."

  "About that..." I started again but got cut off as a plump woman with curly red hair came into the room, carrying a tray with tea.

  "Oh, Bella. There you are." Grandmother didn't turn to see her but waved her hand forward. "Please, the tea. We must do a reading before we start anything."

  My mom made an annoyed sound, but I didn't see the problem.

  "What?" Grandmother shot a look to mom. "Do you not agree?"

  Mom crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her mother. "No, I don't. I think it's outdated and simply... well... stupid."

  I held back a laugh. My mother was acting, well, like me. She was usually so reasonable, but it seemed in the face of her mother, she receded to acting like a child, pouting and throwing a fit. It would be funny had it not been my future on the line.

  "What's outdated?" I asked, taking the teacup Bella offered me. "Thank you."

  When we all had our cups, Bella went around the room, pouring the tea. They didn't offer any cream or sugar, unfortunately, which really was the only way I would drink tea or coffee. Taking it black might put hair on your chest, but I liked mine bald thank you very much.

  "Drink up now, dear," my grandmother urged before taking a drink of hers.

  I glanced over at my mom to see her too drinking even though she had protested before. My lips twisted in a grimace as I took my first sip. I was about to put it back on the table with some kind of an excuse, but I saw that both my mom and my grandmother finished their cups. Not wanting to miss whatever was going on, I tossed back the rest of it, hoping that it wouldn't taste so bad if I just got it over with. Nope, still horrid. And freaking hot!

  "Max," my mom placed her hand on my arm, "you shouldn't do that. You'll burn your mouth."

  Letting out a small whimper, I tried to smile. "I'm fine. It w
asn't that hot." Fucking liar.

  Taking my word for it my grandmother sat her cup on the table, and then pointed at Aris. "I see you successfully mixed a Guardian Light potion. That's quite an accomplishment."

  Jeez, everyone and their moms knew about this dang thing. I shot an eye up to Aris. "Yeah, it was pretty hard."

  "But you still did it. Just like you healed the Headmaster's daughter." She smiled proudly, her hands in her lap. "Everyone is talking about it. You are making a name for yourself already, and you haven't even been in the magical community for a year yet."

  "Yeah, seems like."

  My mom made a disgruntled sound. I glanced over at her to see her cup in her hand, a frown marring her face. She sat her cup down on the coffee table with a scowl. "Stupid," she muttered to herself.

  "What's stupid?" I reached for her cup, but grandmother grabbed it first.

  Peering into the cup, my grandmother's eyes narrowed and then widened. "My dear, you really should take these warnings more seriously."

  "What warnings? What's going on?" I stared down into my own cup, only seeing a pile of tea mush spread across it.

  "It's stupid, superstitious nonsense." Mom sighed and leaned back against the love seat. "Don't take any heed in what she tells you."

  "Why, Margaret, I'm offended. Tea leaf readings have been passed down from generation to generation. You do a disservice to your ancestors with your disbelief." My grandmother held my mother's cup out to me. "Here, take a look."

  I took the cup and tried to make out what she had seen. "I don't know what I'm looking at." My lips twisted into a frown. "It just looks like mush."

  "That's because that's all it is," my mom answered, grabbing the cup from my hands and setting it back on the table. "It doesn't predict the future any more than a magic eight ball can tell you what to decide."

  The way mom was acting didn't make sense. There was no reason for her to be so upset over a single tea leaf reading. I mean, if it was just superstitious nonsense, then what was the harm?

  "Your mother doesn't believe if it wasn't quite obvious," grandmother informed me, holding her hand and gesturing for my cup. I handed it over, a bit curious to know what it said. She peered into the cup for a few moments, her brow crinkling with concentration. "Ever since that one time, she has refused to have her leaves read again. I'm surprised she didn't kick up a fuss today."

  "Would there have been any point?" My mom sighed, rubbing her forehead like she had a headache.

  "Not really, but I know how you like to stray toward the dramatic."

  My mom scoffed, throwing her hands up. "Me, dramatic? You should talk. All you know is drama." My mom stopped talking all of a sudden at the expression on my grandmother's face. Her eyes were intently on the contents of my cup and had all but forgotten she and my mom had been fighting. "Mother, what is it? What's the matter?"

  My grandmother pursed her lips and sat the cup down. "Oh, what does it matter? It's all bull hocky like you said. Now, let's go over the party invitations. I knew you said you wanted Sabrina to choose, but I really do think it's more personal if you chose the invitations yourself."

  "Hold up now," my mom interrupted before I could tell grandmother that Sabrina was a lying cow and could go die in her own filth. My mom apparently thought the cup was a lot more important now that it was her own daughter's future on the line. "You don't get to lecture me about not believing and then just turn around and dismiss the whole thing a minute later. What does it say?"

  Grandmother shifted in her seat, her eyes down and the edges of her lips pulled tight. "Nothing of importance. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

  "Well, I want to know," my mom argued, standing up to reach for the cup. My grandmother grabbed for it at the same time, and their clashing hands knocked the cup off the table. It landed on the floor, breaking into a dozen pieces as the contents of the cup spewed out. Annoyance pinched mom's face, and she snapped her fingers. The pieces picked themselves up, and the cup put itself back together again. However, the tea mush stayed on the floor.

  "Oh, I wish you wouldn't snap your fingers like that. So, undignified. Only commoners need to go to such lengths." My grandmother huffed, already back to picking at my mother's faults, the cup and its message forgotten. I took a napkin from the tray and started to lean down to pick up the mess. "Oh, don't worry about that, dear. Bella will get it." As if on cue, Bella came waltzing into the room with a dustpan. She swept up the mess, then gathered the teacups and tray before leaving again without a word.

  "You will tell me what was in the cup," my mom continued, staring hard at my grandmother.

  "But what does it matter?" My grandmother gestured with her hand as if to wave off the incident. "You don't believe in the power of the leaves so it shouldn't be a big deal to know what it said."

  "But this is my daughter. I would rather know if there is a chance for her to be in danger, even if it means believing in some silly tradition."

  The look on my grandmother's face warped into a smug grin at my mom's words as if she had just gotten across the point she had been trying to make with the whole thing. My mom caught on shortly after I did, her eyes falling. She took a few deep breaths, the kind she took when practicing yoga.

  "Mother, please tell me you didn't just make that whole thing up to prove something to me? Please, tell me you didn't about give me a heart attack because you wanted me to understand your side of this whole fucking tradition."

  The chandelier above our heads shook with the power of my mom's rage, but that didn't surprise me as much as the curse word that had come out of her mouth. My mom just said fuck! I covered my mouth to hide the laugh, but I wasn't fast enough. A snort came out, and my eyes widened. My mom's eyes shot to me and then I couldn't help it. I threw my head back and laughed, smacking the side of the arm as I did.

  "I don't see what's so funny." My grandmother sniffed. "You nearly broke my new chandelier. And what's with the vulgarity? Is that what living with the humans has taught you?"

  Mom didn't pay grandmother any mind, her eyes on me the entire time. I kept laughing as I choked out, "You said fuck. I've never heard you curse before."

  The edges of my mom's lips curled up and then she was laughing with me. My grandmother just sighed, clearly disappointed with us. However, we didn't let that stop us. We kept laughing until our eyes teared up, and we collapsed against each other on the couch.

  "Now, if you are quite done with that, we have some work to do." My grandmother twisted her wrist, and a thick binder appeared out of nowhere. "Now, Maxine, I thought we could go with a pale pink for the invitations, maybe even a salmon? What do you think?"

  Sitting up, I used one of the only spells I had mastered completely. The binder floated out of my grandmother's hands and over to me. I didn't even look at the samples, I simply shoved forth a bit of magic and set the book on fire. My mom jumped away from me, and I clapped the book shut.

  "Maxine, what in the world are you doing?" My grandmother gaped at me, completely taken back by my actions.

  "First off, Sabrina is a nasty bitch who will not have any say in my coming out party. This is my life, and I'm going to choose how I am presented to the magical community. And if you don't like it? I guess you can uninvite yourself because too fucking bad."

  While my grandmother gasped in horror, my mom patted me on the back to cheer me on. Man, did it feel good to get that crap off my chest. Now, I only had to follow through with it. What the hell did someone do for a coming out party anyway?

  Chapter 8

  "You did what now?" My grandfather thankfully found me funnier than my grandmother did. By the end of our little meeting, my grandmother was ready to call the whole thing off except for the fact that my mom reminded her that she had already put out an announcement. Apparently, a Mancaster never goes back on their word. If they say there's going to be a coming out party, then there very well better be one. Sick, dying, or dead, it was happening.

  "Seriously, Har
old, don't encourage the girl. She was completely disrespectful. I went through all that trouble to get her samples for the party, and she went and destroyed it." My grandmother shook her head, picking up her wine glass as we ate dinner.

  "You mean, Bella went through all that trouble," my grandfather corrected her, pointing his knife in her direction.

  "Same difference." My grandmother waved him off. "The point is that she owes someone an apology. Now, what are we going to do for invitations?"

  I speared a piece of my steak and shoved it into my mouth. "E-vites. Believe me, it's all the rage and saves trees."

  My grandmother scoffed. "Trees. In my day, we didn't bother with such nonsense. You can always plant more trees, you only get one chance at a good first impression. The next thing you know, you're going to want to wear jeans and one of those awful novelty shirts."

  "Actually, I was thinking more of a dress made of meat." I exchanged a smile with my grandfather as I held up another piece of steak. "I think it will really set me apart, don't you?"

  "Oh, goddess, save me from this wretched child," my grandmother prayed, her eyes closed and head back. "I'm going to regret this coming out party. This is a test. I'm sure of it."

  I snorted, not at all offended by her words. She was the one who wanted me to stay here not the other way around. It wasn’t my fault she couldn’t handle me.

  My grandfather, on the other hand, was taking my presence here in strides. He lifted his glass to his mouth, amusement pulling at his lips.

  “So, grandfather,” I folded my arm on the table in front of me, “what exactly do you do in the magical community? Everyone is all hyped up about me being a Mancaster, but what does that really even mean?”

  Grandfather opened his mouth to answer me, but before he could get a word out, grandmother steamrolled him. “I’m so glad you are finally taking an interest in your heritage.” She smiled demurely, patting her lips with her napkin. “The Mancaster line is a long and prestigious lineage with family tracing all the way back to the Dark Ages.”