Page 51

Chapter Fifty-One

W hit scratched his head in confusion. He knew he’d left them here. He always left them here.

Clover came downstairs, pulling her sweater on as she descended.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stopping when she reached him.

“Do you know where my keys are?” he inquired, looking around.

“Don’t you leave them here by your wallet?”

“Yes.” He knelt down to see if they’d fallen under the table.

Clover hummed. “Did you check your dresser or the pants you wore yesterday?”

“Yes.”

She chuckled softly to herself. “Maybe Marigold is playing a little prank on you.”

Whit frowned. “I don’t like pranks. We’re going to be late opening the shop.”

“Says the guy who blew out our fire.”

“I told you that wasn’t me. That was my friend, Alexandre.”

Clover raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never met this friend. Is he a ghost?”

“Gods forbid. I can only imagine the trouble he would cause if he were.”

Clover grinned. “In any case, if you don’t want to be late, I suggest you make an offering to Marigold.”

“That’s extortion.”

“It’s more like key-napping.”

Whit pursed his lips at the sudden, bitter taste in his mouth. I knew I didn’t want anything to do with the fae.

Clover laughed a chiming little giggle, and the situation didn’t feel so bad anymore. It was nice to hear her back in good spirits.

“Don’t be so glum. Think of it as her playing hide-and-seek with you. She must like you. Go on. Go put out a pat of butter and ask for her help. The keys will turn up in a place you’ve already looked, or she’ll lead you to them somehow.”

Grumbling to himself, Whit did what Clover suggested. And lo and behold, the keys turned up on his bedside table.

“Thank you, Marigold!” Clover called to the quiet house before shutting the front door behind them.

It was unseasonably warm again today. The forecast said it would top out at seventy degrees. The tug-of-war between seasons seemed fierce this year. The trees were naked and ready to sleep, but the grass was green and happy.

Once in the car, Clover cracked the window even though they’d not yet hit the full warmth of the day. Whit did the same to control the cabin pressure.

“You know, I was thinking,” Clover started, looking over at him while he pulled onto the main road to head to work. “Maybe we should invite everyone for Thanksgiving next week.”

Whit’s skin prickled. “By everyone, you mean…?”

“I mean, our families. Maybe our friends, too, if they have no place to go. What about this so-called Alexandre?”

Whit shook his head. “Alexandre celebrates holidays with his mom and sisters.”

“Well, everyone else, then. Your mom and whoever else. You said your grandfather won’t be back for a while. What other family usually comes to your gatherings?”

“My Aunt Cheri, my cousin Caldwell, his wife Eirwen, and their boys Bryan and Colin.” Whit glanced over at his wife, who frowned in thought. “Are you sure inviting everyone is such a good idea? Have you even talked to your parents since…you moved out?”

Clover shook her head. “No, but I was going to see them today if you wouldn’t mind taking me.” She sighed. “I think we need to trust our families, trust that they care about us. They didn’t get to come to our wedding because we were worried about how they would act. We need to give them a chance to get along at least. Don’t you think? They could surprise us. This could be the best Thanksgiving ever.”

“Or the worst,” he countered.

“Do you think so? Have you told everyone about me? Did they take it so badly?”

Whit quirked his mouth. “I didn’t tell my aunt, but Caldwell can handle that if I ask him. And my grandfather doesn’t know, but he won’t be able to come anyway since he’s still on his cruise.” He thought hard about how his family might act. They weren’t rash people. “I think my side would be all right. But what about yours?”

Whit had a hard time believing Llewellyn was ready to break bread with a room full of winter sorcerers and witches.

“I’ll get back to you when I ask them later, but I think they’ll be okay. I’ll make them promise to behave, especially my brother. I need to believe that they’ll be able to accept you in my life. I need to give them a chance. Does that make sense?”

Whit nodded. “Do you want me to be there with you when you go to see them?”

Clover sighed again. “It might be better if you aren’t, but I don’t want you to have to sit in the car. I don’t know how long the visit will take.”

Whit shook his head. “That’s fine. If we’re going to have Thanksgiving, I’ll have to get my hands on a turkey. I’ll go to the grocery store before they’re all out.”

“Good idea. Does your family also have ham on Thanksgiving?”

Whit wrinkled his nose. “ Ham ? On Thanksgiving? Have you lost your mind?”

Clover laughed. “I guess that answers that.”

Whit’s heart lightened to hear her laugh again. She’d been so quiet—distant—the last few days that he’d been worried that while trying not to change anything by rejecting her advances, he’d inevitably changed everything in a different direction. But seeing how easily she talked with him now, he knew he’d been over-thinking. They just needed time to get used to each other and learn each other’s habits. They would eventually fall into a pattern of behavior where situations like the other night would no longer arise and be a problem.

After opening the shop for the day, Whit retreated into the back room. Having Clover there—even one or two times a week—had really helped him with his work backlog.

But before he jumped into it, he sent a quick message to the family group chat, inviting everyone to Thanksgiving dinner. Then he sent a private message to Caldwell, asking him to explain the situation to Aunt Cheri.