Page 56 of A Winding Wave of Magic
BY CANDLELIGHT
Dance First. Think Later. It’s the natural order.
— SAMUEL BECKETT,WAITING FOR GODOT
“It’s not a date,” I told Reina for the tenth time as I examined myself in the floor-length mirror in Gran’s closet.
Ghosts swirled around me as my shoulders brushed the lace and silk of vintage dresses hanging there. Tonight, I wasn’t in a hurry to chase the fragments away. The rest of the house had remained irritatingly silent despite my continued attempts to find any knowledge of Gran’s death, but her closet wasn’t quite so stubborn, welcoming me with open arms and happy memories. My hands were bare, reaching out for any and all remnants of Gran’s energy I could find, to take her confidence with me tonight.
Through my phone’s speaker, Reina snorted. “I can Sense your nerves from here. You’re more jittery than a cup ofespresso, and I know it’s not just because he annoys you. It’sdefinitelya date.”
I frowned at the light blue dress I held up to my body. Usually blue worked well with my eyes, but this one washed out my pale skin. I put it back.
Okay, yes. I was still irritated with Jonathan’s cryptic responses in the parking lot. But I was also determined to go to this dinner, where Iwouldget some answers, and somehow, that had evolved into putting my best foot forward. I wasn’t going to sit across from Mr.GQmodel looking like a ratty college student. Jonathan Lynch was immaculately groomed and put together whenever I’d seen him, and tonight, I’d manage the same whether it killed me.
Unfortunately, all I had brought from Boston was a few other pairs of worn jeans and my favorite sweaters, and Manzanita wasn’t exactly awash with fashion. Gran’s closet was the only place I could shop.
“That cute, is he?” Reina asked
I recalled Jonathan’s large green eyes, his thatch of tawny hair, the aquiline shape of his mouth–the details of which I hadn’t described to Reina once I’d called to fill her in on everything she’d missed since leaving.
And the glasses. I couldn’t forget about the glasses.
Yeah, cute didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Dang,” she muttered.
“Your range is getting annoyingly good,” I replied as I turned back to my suitcase and pulled out a pair of jeans. This didn’t have to be a big deal, even if it was kind of, not really the first real date I’d had in an embarrassingly long time.
“Not as good as that boy’s butt. Damn. Two scoops right there.”
I sighed. I hadn’t even known my thoughts had gone there, but now the image was front and center. “Fine, I’ll admit, he’s reasonably attractive?—”
“I think you mean Henry Cavill-level hot?—”
“But, Rein, he’s also an annoying know-it-all?—”
“Who challenges you and doesn’t take your crap?—”
“Who’s impossibly arrogant!” I huffed and threw my jeans back on the bed. Nothing I had was appropriate.
Reina chuckled. “But it’s not a date.”
Two people. A nice restaurant. I sort of couldn’t get away from the facts.
“You don’t have to be so damn smug about it.”
Another snort. “Whatever. I live half my life in scrubs these days. Sue me if I want to get dressed up with you for the date with the pretty, pretty man.”
“I didn’t tell you he was pretty.”
“Baby, you didn’t have to.”
I gave up arguing and turned back to the closet. Gran’s scent, a soothing mixture of sea salt, lavender, and some perfume no one made anymore, floated from the silks and knits as I sifted through them. It was a punch to the gut.
Holding my breath, I snatched the first outfit I saw to distract myself in the mirror and immediately scowled. Turquoise polyester jumpsuits were definitely not my thing, but that scent still dug a pit of sadness in my belly.
“Don’t wear that. You’ll look like Cher.”
