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Authors: Candace Havens

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BOOK: Like a Charm
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Something occurred to me. “Are you going to Dallas to see your daughter for Thanksgiving?” I put the books in a large grocery bag she handed me to transport them to the car.

“No. The kids are in Vancouver at my son-in-law's parents'.”

“Would you mind coming out to Mom and Dad's? We'd love to have you. Dr. Sam will be there and maybe a few others. Mom will cook her idea of Thanksgiving, but I've also ordered a complete dinner from Lulu's.”

“That's very sweet of you. I'll certainly think about it, and if I do come, I'll bring some extra pies.”

“Oh, you don't have to bring anything but your lovely self.” I reached across the desk and hugged her. “But I do hope you'll come.”

 

O
n the way home I heard a strange ringing and realized it was my BlackBerry. It had been so long since anyone had called, I'd forgotten about it.

I pushed the speaker button on the Lexus. “Hello?”

“Is it there yet?” Justin sounded harried on the other end of the line.

“Is what here yet? What are you talking about?”

“The FedEx package. I just found out about ten minutes ago that the Official Asshole—you know, your boss—sent you a package, but it didn't come through me. I want to know what's in it,” he demanded.

“Well, I'm in my car at the moment, but I'm pulling in the drive right now. I'll call you back when I get inside.”

He sighed. “I don't think my heart can take it.”

“Justin, what's going on? Why are you so upset?” He could be a bit of a drama queen, but this time he was tied in knots. “Take a deep breath and just tell me.”

“You know how I get bad vibes about things…Well, that they didn't have me send the package to you makes me think there's something in there they didn't want me to see.”

“Did you ever stop to think that it's probably just some confidentiality agreements for one of the contracts I'm working on? Stop being a goofy brat. The
boss
probably just needs me to look over something and had his assistant send it out.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Is there something you aren't telling me?” Now he was making me nervous.

“I don't know. Just promise me you'll call as soon as you get the package,” he pleaded.

“Okay, okay. I promise. But I bet a sushi dinner it's nothing but contracts. I'll talk to you in a bit.” I pushed the button to turn off the phone and opened the car door.

As soon as I opened the door to my room, I saw the FedEx envelope on the bed, a very thin one. I dumped the books on the small bedside table and picked it up. It couldn't have been more than a page or two. For a second I was worried, and then I laughed. Justin was playing a practical joke. He was probably just messing with me.

I rolled my eyes and ripped open the package.

Two pieces of paper floated out to the bed.

The first was a letter with the header for Zeb Corporate and it said:

Dear Ms. Smythe,

We appreciate your many contributions to our organization. You are a sterling employee and your efforts have been duly noted.

Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we must cut our department budgets by thirty-five percent. Beginning immediately, your employment here has been terminated. You will receive full medical coverage for as long as necessary as part of a generous severance package.

We wish you well in your future endeavors.

Martin Landover

Vice President, Corporate Affairs

The second piece of paper was a detailed outline of my severance package. It was a good one, excellent by most standards, but I still felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.

Sucker punched.

Confused, I sat on the bed. He couldn't fire me while I was on medical leave; it was against the law.

I should be furious.
I'd just read a letter telling me they didn't give a crap that I'd dedicated my life to that job, but…somehow, I didn't care.

That's not true. I did care. I was angry, but also relieved for some reason.

The cell phone rang again. “What the hell is going on? They're moving me to a new department,” Justin yelled.

There was no getting around the truth. I took a deep breath. “I've been sacked.”

“What?” He screamed so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“You heard me.” I told him about the budget cuts.

“That's ridiculous, you made those bozos millions of dollars the last few years.”

My hands were shaking. “Evidently it wasn't enough.”

“You know why this is happening, and you know you can fight it,” Justin urged. “They can't blame you for what happened to Melinda.”

Oh, they can. I do.
“Yes, but I don't want to fight anymore. I'm done with that.” After the last few months I no longer had it in me.

It had taken me a few days here in Sweet to realize why I'd really come home. I, the ruthless Ice Princess, had been emotionally and physically devastated. Not just by Melinda's death, but by the events that had led up to it. I'd given up on everything, including myself.

That was about to change. I wouldn't fight the layoff, but I would do something about my life.

“It's time for me to move on.” I stood and began pacing. “I need you to do me some favors. Do you still have the key to my condo?”

“Yes. And I'm not working at this place without you.”

“Justin, I appreciate the loyalty, but you know how much you need that job.” He was still paying off his college loans. “When you get off work, go to my condo and e-mail me a copy of my résumé from my desktop. Then call Cynthia Jordan, that headhunter who has been after me. Give her my number and tell her to call if she's interested. I'm going to get a new job,” I said determinedly. “And as soon as I'm settled I'm bringing you on at twice your current salary. How does that sound?”

“Like the Kira Smythe I know. I'm with you all the way, girlfriend.” I imagined his hand swinging back and forth in a sassy snap. “You haven't been yourself lately, and I, for one, am glad you are back.”

I wasn't sure about being back, but the letter had been a good reality slap.

We hung up and I sat back on the bed.

It's a temporary detour. I can handle it. I'm Kira Smythe. I can do anything.

Five Bad Things That Are Worse Than Losing a Job

  1. Dying
  2. Going crazy
  3. Losing a loved one
  4. Being bedridden with some horrible disease
  5. Being betrayed by someone you love
Chapter 5

'Tis misfortune that awakens ingenuity, or fortitude, or endurance, in hearts where these qualities had never come to life but for the circumstance which gave them being.

THE HISTORY OF HENRY ESMOND

By Thackeray, William Makepeace, 1811–1863

Call #: F-MAK

Description: 415 p.; 19cm

“M
s. Smythe, so happy to hear from you.” I'd called Cynthia Jordan after she'd told Justin to have me contact her immediately.

“Thank you for taking my call. I realize it's the day before Thanksgiving.” It hadn't occurred to me that she might be out of the office. “Are you on vacation?”

“I'm going through security as we speak on my way to Belize. Don't worry about it. I'll be here for at least another hour. Listen, Justin tells me you're ready to move on from Zeb bore, excuse me, Zeb Corp. Does it have anything to do with the jumper?”

I should have expected the question, but it startled me. The news reports had said I was on the roof with the police when Melinda jumped. Of course, I had no memory of it. No, that's not exactly true. I have a vision in my head of her on the ledge, but that's it. I wasn't sure I wanted to remember what happened. “Let's just say I'm ready to move on.”

She clucked her tongue. “Of course. I know Bachman, Ride, and Yoren is looking for a new contract lawyer. And Telrine wants someone to lead up their legal affairs office. Both would be perfect for you. I'll call them to set up appointments for next week and get back to you with the details.”

“Okay.” I hadn't expected things to move quite so fast, but in a way it was good. I didn't want to sit around twiddling my thumbs for the next few months searching for a job.

We hung up and I downloaded my résumé onto my mom's office computer. Justin had e-mailed it and I always kept it up to date. It's something ingrained in me from my days at Harvard. “Always be prepared for all contingencies,” my professors would say.

I filled out the form Cynthia had sent from her BlackBerry, and attached it and my résumé to an e-mail back to her.

My mother came in just as I was finishing up. “How are you feeling, honey?”

I smiled. “Good.” Then I noticed the black cloth suitcase next to her. “Are you going somewhere?”

She pursed her lips and scrunched her face. “Your dad and I are needed in Laguna. Our manager out there, Sherry, is having her baby and her husband has just taken her to the hospital. She's almost a month early. They have a full house at the ashram, so your dad and I have to go take care of things.”

Walking forward, she sat in the chair in front of her desk. “I want you to come with us. We have plenty of room in the Piper.” My dad had learned how to fly a couple of years ago, and my parents' business had done so well they had their own plane. The craziness never stopped with these two. “I'm worried about you being here alone, and I can't stand that the first time you're home in two years we have to leave. And you've just been so sick.”

I waved her away. “You guys go. As you can see, I'm fine. In fact, Sam is coming over tomorrow to hang out, so you don't have to worry. I'll have my personal physician on hand.” She couldn't see it but inside I was jumping up and down screaming, “Woo hoo! No Tofurky! And I won't have to explain my atypical parents to hot guy Caleb.” “I'll miss you guys, and thank you so much for taking care of me.” I meant the words. Her homeopathic recipes, though not terribly delectable, had helped me heal faster.

I hugged her. “I have to head home on Saturday for some meetings on Monday.” She started to argue, but I held up a hand. “Thanks to your great care, I'm feeling so much better. I'm going to leave my car here and fly back. I don't think I'm up for the fifteen-hour drive yet. But I'll come pick it up the first chance I get.”

She sniffled. “Now I feel really horrible about leaving you for Thanksgiving. We probably won't see you again for a couple of years.”

Hello, mothers' guilt.
I shook my head. “I'm sorry, Mom. I haven't been around much, but you know I love you. And I promise I'll try to come back to visit sometime around the end of the year.”
Depends on the new job
. “And I'll definitely have to get my car, so don't worry.”

Dad walked in. He thumped himself on the head. “Oh, kiddo, I knew I forgot to tell someone. You were gone when the call came in this afternoon. Can you get packed fast? We need to go.”

I grinned. “I'm not going, and don't worry about it, Daddy. I'm fine. Mom will tell you my plans. You two go on. Enjoy some of that California sunshine for me.”

He hugged me and ruffled my hair like he did when I was a kid. “Everything okay in Atlanta? A package came for you today.”

I cleared my throat, caught off guard. I shrugged. “Just work stuff. One of the reasons I need to get back soon.”

I finally pushed them out the door an hour later, after receiving explicit instructions on how to lock the place up. Mr. Johnson would be responsible for the care of the vineyards and he'd check on the gardens. Mom and Dad would be back on Monday to usher in their new crew of Zen wannabes. So I pretty much had the place to myself.

I knew I should do some research on the Web about some of the companies the headhunter had mentioned, but I needed a break.

 

M
y dad's love for yoga had rubbed off. I'd taken a few classes and was hooked. I remembered enough of the poses to go through most of them, even without my dad. After an hour of meditating and doing deep breathing exercises in my room, I took my last cleansing breath.

“It's almost time.” I heard a voice in the corner of the room. My mind snapped into gear. I stood up, trying to see who was there. I thought I saw an arm and part of a leg. I blinked and the images were gone.

“She doesn't know and I don't think she'll be ready,” a woman said.

I jumped up. “Who's there?” The room had to be forty degrees and my teeth chattered. My hands shook and my voice trembled a little.

“Look. I know someone's here. I'm not crazy.”

“Of course you aren't.” It was a husky voice, slightly feminine, but deep.

I whipped around, but still couldn't see anyone. “Where are you?”

“Right here in the corner. Sorry. I don't think you can see us yet. That you can hear us is a very good sign. Some people don't think you're ready, but I know you are well on your way.”

“My way to what? Being psychotic? I'm talking to air.”

“Honey, don't get so upset. Just because you can't see someone doesn't mean they aren't there.”

“No! Go away. I'm not crazy!” My hands squeezed my head.

“Whatever you say, hon.” The voice faded away. I threw on my sweater and waved my hand across the access panel on the door.

I searched the house for the source of the voice. Some nasty person was playing tricks on me. By the time I made it to the kitchen I'd convinced myself I must have been dreaming.
Maybe it was that third eye Dad's always talking about.
I found the controller for the heat, and it was set at sixty-eight.

Splaying my hands on the cold granite countertop, I took a deep breath. “Well, that sure as hell was weird.” I turned on the lights as I made my way back to my room. It was warm now. I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and cleaned up some mascara under my eyes with a tissue. I put on some lipstick and pulled my curls into a low ponytail.

“Much, much better.”

But I didn't want to be there. Third eye or not, I was hearing strange things.
I am not going crazy.
I'd said that to myself so many times the last few days it was ridiculous. Feeling antsy, I grabbed my purse and keys.

Since it was the night before Thanksgiving, the town had rolled up the sidewalks even earlier than usual. The only light on in the square was Lulu's. When I got out of the car the smell of smoked meats drifted my way. My stomach growled.

“Thank goodness for Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen,” I said aloud.

“I was thinking the same thing,” a man said behind me.

I jumped and turned around. Caleb's handsome face smiled back at me. He was dressed in a cable-knit sweater under a dark jacket and he wore jeans and boots. My heart did a little happy dance at the sight of him.

“Hey.”
Now there you go being profound, Kira.

“It's good to see you.” He held out his hand and I shook it. His hand was so much larger than mine, and very warm. He didn't let go. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation tomorrow.”

I pulled my hand back, reluctantly. “Oh, I'm glad to have the company, and since Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen are providing the meal, it should be delicious.”

“Are you headed in for dinner?”

I nodded.

“Those two do know how to cook. I highly recommend the special. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes, and cherry pie for dessert.”

I have to admit I was extremely disappointed that he'd already eaten. He'd be at the house tomorrow, but the company tonight would have been nice. “Thanks. That does sound good.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I could feel a blush creeping up on my cheeks under his scrutiny. I gave a little wave. “Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow around two. Have a nice evening.”

He nodded and began to move away. “Um.” He stopped. “I could use another cup of coffee, and come to think of it, I wouldn't mind another piece of that pie.”

I couldn't keep from smiling. “You're welcome to join me.”

Opening the door, he guided me in.

The smells when you walk into Lulu's are always pleasing, but the day before a holiday they are almost overwhelming. Turkey, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, all of it hits you head-on and it's a traffic jam of homey smells.

My favorite place in the café is the back booth; I like watching as people come in and out. When I was a kid I'd observe Ms. Johnnie and Ms. Helen interacting with the locals. As wild as the two women were, they garnered a certain amount of respect.

“Have you lived in Sweet most of your life?” Caleb's question pulled me out of my reverie. We'd sat down and I'd been staring at the menu for the last few minutes, lost in thought.

Hello, Kira? Hot guy sitting across from you. Maybe you should pay attention.
“Yes, and no.” I grinned. “We moved here from Laguna when I was about four. So yes, until I went away to college, this was home. I've been living in Atlanta the last few years.”

“Sweet seems like a great town to grow up in. Nice people and no crime from what I've seen.”

I shrugged. “It's quiet, but I honestly couldn't wait to get out of here.”

“Big city calling your name?” He put two sugars in his coffee and added some cream. I did the same.

“I just never felt like I fit in here.”
Geez, bring out the violins.
“I mean, well, my parents were, excuse me,
are
hippies. None of us are magic, and a lot of the people who live here are either witches or warlocks or different in some special way. But you're right. It was certainly a safe place to grow up. As soon I had the chance, though, I was out the door.”

“Hippies? I thought that was back in the sixties.” He laughed.

I smiled too. “Yes, well. My parents tried to bring the lifestyle back in the eighties and haven't noticed that it didn't catch on. So where did you grow up?”

“All over the place. Born in San Antonio, but I'm an army brat. My dad was in special ops and we moved every two years. They're still moving. In fact, they're in Korea now.”

“Wow. That must have been cool and difficult at the same time, living in new places.” I dug into the meatloaf Ms. Johnnie had put on the table with a wink at me. She hadn't even taken my order. She knew I loved her food; didn't matter what it was. I'd noticed her and Ms. Helen peeking over at our table more than once.

“I'm pretty adaptable and I never minded much. My mom liked living wherever Dad worked, so we could see him when he wasn't on assignment. Now I have friends all over the world, which is handy when I need a place to crash.”

I thought it odd that a carpenter had the funds to travel the world, but didn't say it. I scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. The girls had added sour cream, and the spuds were super creamy. “How did you end up here?”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm looking after a friend's sister. She bought a house here and I've been helping her fix it up.”

I wondered what he meant by the rolled eyes. “That's nice of you. Um, do you not like the sister?”

He sputtered his coffee and laughed. Mopping his lip with his napkin, he cleared his throat. “She has her moments. Her name's Bronwyn, have you met her?”

I shook my head. “No, but I haven't seen much of anyone since I've been home. I've been kind of sick.”

He looked concerned. “Is it serious?”

This time it was my turn to laugh. “No. Just mono.”

“The kissing disease? Hmmm. And here I was thinking you weren't that kind of girl.”

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