Page 74 of The Witch is Back

“With a twist.”

“Emma?”

Still getting used to byplay that didn’t have a mean undertone, Emma startled at her name. “Ah...water’s fine.”

“You needn’t have water on my account,” Diana said. “Unsettled stomach is all.”

They all knew it was more than that, but Emma didn’t comment. “Okay. Um...” What was appropriate with in-laws?

Bastian pressed his leg against hers. “I’ll have a beer, Dad. Emma?”

She nodded gratefully.

As with Diana, everyone acted as if it was normal. Again, the differences between this family and the Bluewaters paraded in front of her. Wearing neon clothing just to make the point.

For one thing, if she’d gone mute in front of her mother, Clarissa would have lost her temper. For another, if she’d asked for beer, she’d have been subjected to a lecture on how beer was a common drink and Bluewaters weren’t common. Then again, the Truenotes had achieved the kind of blue-blooded success Clarissa craved; they didn’t need to try so hard. She still wasn’t entirely sure why they’d agreed to sign that stupid engagement contract to begin with. Bet they were wishing they hadn’t. The truth sat like a rock on her chest as she accepted the beer.

When they all had their drinks, Diana turned to her with expectation. “So, Emma. You live in Chicago now, correct?” At Emma’s nod, her smile cranked up a notch. “What made you settle there?”

Concentrate on simple sentences, she reminded herself. Less likely to hint at Sloane then. Her hands twisted in her lap as she took in a breath. No need to be nervous. What did it matter if they liked her?

“A human I met told me about it,” she said carefully. “She, ah, said it was full of art and food and culture. And cold.” A quick smile. “I liked the idea of cold.”

“So do I sometimes, when it’s August and I’m fixing to melt,” Diana agreed. She took a sip of water, glass trembling. She ignored the weakness. “And you run a bar? Do you enjoy that?”

“Mom.” Bastian slung an arm over the back of the couch, almost across Emma’s shoulders. “Interrogation much?”

“I’m just getting to know her. She’s our guest.”

“There’s the third degree, which you aced. You’ve moved onto fourth.”

Emma again held her breath but unclenched when Diana aimed an arch—but clearly unoffended—look his way.

“It’s fine,” she told him, focusing on his thigh that pressed against hers, the heavy feeling of his arm so close to her. She felt enclosed, protected. Attention back on Diana and Alistair, who’d poured himself a scotch and sat next to Diana, their hands clasped, she pondered what to say. “It’s different. A challenge.”

“Tia Hightower is your partner, if I recall. She always struck me as smart,” Alistair commented, swirling his scotch.

“She is. And we have a third business partner. A—a human.” Unsure how the society couple would take that, she braced.

“I always used to love having humans on my team,” Alistair said, a finger to his chin thoughtfully. Catching her confused look, he added, “When we did research with potions and lotions, we’d always have some humans in the know to bring their experience to the research. All sanctioned by the High Family, naturally,” he continued. “Humans are in high demand in certain sectors of the business circuit. For those of us who can see beyond our egos.” He winked.

“I know what you mean,” Bastian cut in. “On our digs, I’m always amazed by the leaps in logic humans make. We’ve often made an important discovery because of my team’s instincts. And when you consider what we’re digging up—admittedly, I like the magical finds, but even so, some of the older human antiquities are...” He trailed off with a sheepish smile Emma found annoyingly endearing. “Anyway, Leah—Emma’s business partner—has the same...zest for life that I see in my teams.” He nudged Emma. “She’s the fun part, right?”

She frowned. “I’m fun.”

“Tia’s bold,” he carried on, “and you’re smart.”

Before she could argue with that succinct diagnosis, Alistair tipped his glass to her. “He’s right, you were always a smartie.” A teasing glint in his eye. “We were grateful when you and Bastian became friends. Hoped he would follow your example and crack a book sometime.”

“I went by the osmosis theory,” Bastian said lazily.

“A son of mine who didn’t read,” Diana mourned. “I used to buy him books as a child and would find them propping up furniture or used as projectiles.”

“She exaggerates,” he told Emma, who was fascinated by this window into a Bastian she hadn’t known. “And I did learn to like books. Some books.”

“All Emma’s influence, I’m sure.”

All three turned to look at her and the beer bottle she’d been lifting to her mouth froze. They were waiting for her to speak, she realized, to say something unbelievably witty. To sparkle as Bastian’s fiancée should. Nerves circled her throat.

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