CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Claudia~
This was shaping up to be the day from hell. Ryan was acting as if everything was absolutely copacetic. As if the lifting of his death sentence altered nothing in their relationship. When in fact it had replaced its bedrock foundation with quicksand. She was torn between gratitude that he wasn’t dying and fury at his male obliviousness.
Before, she had been worried that his death would leave her and Jimmy bereft. She didn’t think having her conscripted husband wave goodbye and return to his old life would be less painful. And if Ryan vanished as swiftly as he had parachuted into their lives, Jimmy would be worse than brokenhearted.
If only she could be sure that Robin’s spell worked both ways. That Ryan was falling in love with her as she was falling for him. But although he acted like the perfect husband and lover, he had never breathed a word about love. Not one.
Was it possible that her power to bind a spell could be used to strengthen Robin’s magic indefinitely? Claudia, it was true, was powerful, but she had never heard of a spell-binder who could make a charm eternal. And she had had very little practice meddling with the magic of other sorcerers. And none whatsoever with Fae magic.
Moreover if Claudia consulted the mayor before attempting to bind her spell, she would be openly admitting what the council merely suspected: that she was a potent spell-binder slash unbinder. That might bring disaster down on her and her innocent child. No wonder her head was spinning.
Ryan had said she should meet him at the Bean during her coffee break. She had suggested that things might go more smoothly if he picked her up at the bank. But he had only shaken his head before he kissed her and Jimmy goodbye. She thought about phoning Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Martha to give them a heads up, so they didn’t throw their niece’s no-good lover into the street. But she had no time to call anyone.
Things were hopping at the bank. Apparently, lots of folks thought it their right to know if Ryan had really been falling-down drunk last night. Was alcoholism the real reason for their separation? There was a really great rehab in Seattle that had dried out their third cousin who used to see pink snakes. Joanna and Carey both had to open their stations to deal with the line-up of the curious.
Claudia got tired of saying, “No, we barely had time to sip our wine. There was nothing wrong with the food. Ryan had a relapse. He seems much better this morning.”
Relapse?
He had a bad reaction to a snakebite.
Snakes? On West Haven?
Arizona.
Arizona?
It’s a state in the union.
I’m only trying to help.
Mom has it covered.
I hear whiskey is supposed to be a cure for snakebite. Pause. Of course sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.
I’ll pass your medical advice along to Mom. She was thinking antivenin and antibiotics, more fool she.
Long before her break, she was seriously considering resigning. Morley had disappeared to the Bean as soon as she showed up. Undoubtedly, her boss was the source of some of the wilder ideas the rumormongers had generated. Promptly at ten fifteen she closed her station and headed to the Bean for her break.
Ryan hadn’t been ejected. He was sitting at a table with Quinn Drake and Walter Babcock, elbow to elbow with the crowd of locals. Uncle Lloyd had pulled up a chair to their table and was sitting backward on it. The room hushed as she closed the door behind her.
Testosterone hung over their table like smog. The men all stood when she walked in. Ryan gave her a possessive kiss and held a chair for her. Wally raised a small hand in welcome and jiggled his gadgets. Quinn grinned like a fool. Uncle Lloyd leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Today, Lloyd’s famous meditative calm had been replaced by alert amusement. Normally he was so laidback as to be barely on the same planet as the rest of humanity. “Rutherford here has been telling us what a talented healer Jimmy is going to be,” Lloyd said casually into the silence that had followed her appearance.
For gosh sakes! “Have you?” she yelped. When they had discussed this, she had not expected a public announcement.
Ryan chuckled. “Certainly. Bragging on my kid is one of the pleasures of parenthood.” He spun in a circle. “Look, Ma, no crutches.”
“You were never on crutches,” she hissed. “I hope you aren’t overdoing things.”
“Never felt better.” Ryan sat down again. “Our kid worked a miracle.”
Wally, Lloyd and Quinn smirked. The room began to buzz again. What the heck were these guys up to?
Aunt Martha sauntered over from the back, gray braid swinging. She had a latte in one capable hand and a slice of brioche in the other. She set them before Claudia. “Ryan ordered for you.”
She gave Claudia a peck on the cheek. “Your uncle and I were beginning to wonder if we were ever going to meet your husband.” Aunt Martha was Dad’s older sister.
Honestly. “It’s been what? Three days?” she countered.
“Four,” replied Martha. “But who’s counting.” She stared down at Claudia’s waist.
“Forget it,” Claudia muttered.
Martha smiled. “You guys need a refill?”
“Yup,” said Lloyd.
Martha went behind the counter for the coffee pot.
There was one spare chair at their table, which was really two tables pushed together. Over in the far corner a heavyset gray-haired man got up and ostentatiously urged his companions to have a good day. He stopped by and said hey to the table in general and Wally in particular.
“You got the figures for the high school gym, Babcock?” he demanded loudly.
“Not in my hip pocket,” Wally returned mildly. “You know Quinn and Claudia, and Lloyd, of course. Have you met Claudia’s husband, Ryan Rutherford? This is Garrett Somerset, Rutherford. He’s on the town council. He’s chair of the Ways and Means Committee.”
Garret held out a beefy hand. Ryan shook. Claudia could tell her husband was returning the muscular psychic’s challenging handshake with some serious pressure of his own.
“It’s a pleasure, Councilor,” he said.
Garret dropped his hand as if it pained him. Probably did. Ryan was recovering his physical strength even faster than Mom had predicted. “You one of our Rutherfords?” demanded Garrett.
“My people have been summering at Cat’s Head since we cleaned out that nest of grizzly-fairies, if that’s what you mean?” Ryan returned. “Do you have time for another cup of coffee?”
Garrett sat down so fast Claudia figured he probably sprained his tailbone. His round face was alight. Garrett was a mid-range psychic with a talent for political maneuvering. She found it tiring to be around his eternal glad-handing, but he was an effective councilor.
He smiled benignly on Claudia. “What’s this I hear about your little guy socking Babcock’s baby girl?”
“You’ve got that backwards, Garrett,” Claudia returned his opening volley. “I’m afraid Jess was the one who punched Jimmy. However, they’re all friends now, and Jimmy’s black eye has healed nicely.”
“That so, Wally?” asked Garrett.
“Sure. Can’t even see any bruising now. Our Jess sure packs a wallop for a three-year-old.” Wally readjusted the gadgets on his belt.
“You need to teach her to use her words, Babcock,” Ryan said earnestly. “Can’t have her getting a reputation for unwarranted violence.”
Wally bared his buck teeth. “Maybe so, Rutherford, but our girl is plenty pissed that Jimmy asked Amanda Trubody to be his girlfriend. Could have us a cat fight down at the daycare. That boy needs to stop raising expectations he don’t intend to meet.”
Garrett joined in the general guffawing.
Ryan took a sip of coffee. “Amanda is just a passing fancy, Babcock. Jimmy still intends to marry his mommy when he grows up.”
Garrett made a strained noise between a chuckle and a groan. “We any closer to acquiring that land next to the high school, Babcock?”
“Nope. Not for sale. The present owners are happy just renting those houses to visitors. We’d have to go way above market to interest them.” Wally buried his buck teeth in his mug.
Garrett grunted. “Not happening.”
Ryan came in on his cue. “Who owns that land, Walter?”
“I do,” said Lloyd. “Well, me and Martha. It’s by way of being our retirement fund. Can’t see why those kids can’t just walk down to the community center the way they’ve always done.”
Martha slammed down a cup in front of Garrett and filled the empty cups as she spoke. “We’re not getting any younger, Garrett Somerset. Gotta think of our future.”
“A gym has a lot of uses beyond phys ed,” Wally said piously. “You need to think of the needs of the community, Lloyd. And Martha.”
“Sure, if Mystic Bay intends to fund our retirement,” Martha said. “Otherwise, not so much.”
Claudia ate the last bite of her brioche and swallowed the remainder of her coffee. Her fifteen minutes were about up. “I’ll be heading back to the bank,” she murmured.
Ryan stood up and kissed her purposefully. “Keep warm,” he whispered in her ear.
Her cat had brought her to a simmer, for certain. Claudia left the men to their deliberation. She hadn’t understood all the undercurrents, but she was pretty sure Garrett wanted a big contribution from Ryan. Not her business. Not. Her. Business.
She had to let some people into the shop before she could leave, so she heard the next few lines of their dialog. It was as good as a play.
“Don’t look at me,” Quinn drawled. “The Archibald Drake Maritime Museum is being fully bankrolled by the Drake Fund. That’s our contribution for this decade.”
“Seems to me,” Garrett intoned gravely, “That Cuthbert Rutherford’s contribution to the well-being of West Haven ought to be commemorated too. The Cuthbert Rutherford Athletic Complex has a nice ring, doesn’t it, Rutherford?”
“About time folks remembered that if old Cuthbert hadn’t wiped out those murdering Haverstocks,” Wally said, “They would’ve have killed and eaten every sensitive on the island.”
“I agree,” Ryan said. “Cuthbert’s successful mission ought to be better appreciated. But I fail to see why it should be his descendants’ obligation to provide a memorial. Maybe the council should spring for a nice plaque at City Hall?”
The jangle of the Bean’s brass cowbells cut off the rest.