Page 22 of Two’s A Charm

THAT’S JUST MY RESTING WITCH FACE

Effie

A new day meant an opportunity for Effie to restart the timer on her daily caffeine consumption.

And she dearly needed a coffee. She’d snuck out of the Chalmers family home without her usual morning cuppa, as Bonnie had been holed up in the kitchen, scrolling through videos on her phone with the volume all the way up.

Obnoxious phone-scrolling aside, Effie still wasn’t ready for a sit-down with her sister.

She’d done her best to be the better person yesterday, but Bonnie had been so over the top in how she’d wooed Maureen and Sabine, and how she’d made the entire moment about her . How much attention did one person need?

Between her responsibilities at the library and the endless chores that somehow fell under her remit, Effie was finding it easier just to avoid Bonnie as much as possible. It wasn’t a pride thing, not really. It was inertia.

Mindful that the skies above the house looked about to open, Effie shouldered her heavy book bag, then grabbed her favourite novelty umbrella, an old duck-handled one of Mom’s made from vintage waxed canvas.

Then she picked her way down the slippery front steps with the utmost care.

Even with the tacky tape she’d added over the summer, the moss-covered stone became a trip hazard when damp.

Because Effie was prone to ruminating on all the embarrassing times of her life to date, she flashed back to the time that, around age fifteen, she’d slithered all the way down the front steps of the Toto Hotel, much to the amusement of Bonnie and her friends.

It was one of those moments that stick with you for all eternity, and she was fairly certain that one of the decorative tiles she’d pored over yesterday had referred to the incident.

She’d been too afraid to ask, lest the others, who were tipsy from the wine, affirmed her suspicions.

The rain rattled off Effie’s umbrella as she thought back over the awkward meeting with Sabine at the hotel.

She’d wanted to extend an olive branch to Bonnie over their fight, but Bonnie was being so insufferable.

No matter the occasion, everything turned into the Bonnie Show.

Even a thoughtful gesture for Mom had ended up being a boozy affair culminating in a sharing of star signs.

Okay, so Effie occasionally checked to see what Madame Destinée had in store for Virgos, but mostly because whoever the writer was had a snappy, charming style. Effie had never been able to pass up a witty barb. Especially one on paper.

Don’t let your green eyes lose your green eyes , Effie’s most recent horoscope had said, rather cryptically. Effie hadn’t been able to figure it out. Was it a reference to jealousy? Or cats, perhaps?

Sidestepping to avoid puddles, she passed by Bobby’s house, noting with surprise a grey sporty SUV with vanity plates and a Honk If You Love Bloggers bumper sticker parked in the driveway.

It was Kirsty’s car, of course. The 1 KB 1 plates were a dead giveaway.

But Effie couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Kirsty would have parked at Bobby’s.

Perhaps she was doing an interview piece about the family bakery and its new lavender-dipped croissant wheels.

Maybe she’d been visiting Bonnie but had quickly pulled into the driveway to avoid the imminent arrival of the street sweeper and the resulting fine.

Effie checked her phone. No, it was the wrong day for that.

Curiouser and curiouser.

In desperate need of caffeine before she started her shift at the library, Effie hurried down the street, marvelling at Freddie Noonan’s perfect lawn and stooping to give Bowow’s dogs a quick scratch on the head through the wrought-iron fence that ringed the ivy-smothered property.

Bowow’s home was famously haunted, and not just by the larger-than-life personality of its owner and her many yappy dogs.

As Effie strolled past the house Theo was renting – which, let’s face it, was the entire point of the trip to the coffee shop – she made a point to keep her gaze pointed straight ahead, even as she drank in the property through what little peripheral vision she had.

Bonnie was always on about her needing to try contact lenses for this reason, and perhaps, for once, her sister had a point.

But as she did, a gust of wind kicked up. A letter smacked her in the face. Rude!

She grabbed at the envelope, thankful that her rain-speckled glasses had saved her from some sort of papercut-related eye injury, then squinted at it.

It was addressed to Theo.

Effie glanced at the brick path that separated the sidewalk from the front door. Her heart skipped as she thought about walking its moss-filled length, climbing up the front steps and standing there, on Theo’s porch, with only the vintage yellow door separating his public life from his private.

She could just give him the letter the next time at the library. But what if it was urgent? A letter from the IRS, perhaps. Or a bill. She didn’t know an awful lot about Theo, but she did know that he was prompt when it came to paying his bills.

She’d better drop it off in person. Just in case. Out of the goodness of her heart.

There was nothing untoward, nothing sneaky, nothing voyeuristic about it.

She didn’t care to see how Theo lived, not really.

The white Art Deco home with the curved corners and the dramatic stripes and the simply incredible geometric chandelier above the front door did nothing for her.

Even if it did remind her of something straight out of The Great Gatsby , which, according to the book log she’d been keeping since elementary school, she’d read sixteen times.

Effie’s umbrella bobbed as she picked her way along the garden path, then crept up the steps. There would absolutely be no slipping this time.

All right. Here she went.

She slid the letter through the flap in the door, but as she did, a curtain twitched. Please let that be a ghost , she thought.

Of course it wasn’t. It was never a ghost when you needed it to be.

The front door opened, and Theo stood there, dressed in activewear and sheened with sweat from a workout.

Effie had never really seen the appeal of working out, what with all the grunting.

It felt too much in the realm of Bonnie’s poltergeist hauntings.

But, curiously, she was suddenly starting to come around to it.

Theo held a protein shaker bottle in one hand, and clutched the doorframe with the other.

Effie couldn’t help but notice the curve of his bicep and how his shirt clung to his well-muscled chest. She swallowed, hoping that the flush creeping over her cheeks wasn’t as vibrant as it felt.

‘Are you delivering books direct to my door now?’ Theo asked, nodding at her book bag.

Effie pointed to the mail slot. ‘There was a letter kicking about in the rain. I thought I’d deliver it safely. In case it was important. What with all the move admin.’

Theo retrieved the letter from the mailbox and opened it.

‘Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without this ten per cent off coupon for home surveillance.

’ He grinned. ‘There’s a smart doorbell on the place already.

That’s how I saw you coming up the driveway.

Although I did assume you were a duck. They set it off every time they go by.

There are so many ducks around here. Where do they come from? ’

‘Oh, there’s a portal,’ said Effie airily. ‘We’re just supporting characters in a duck’s fantasy novel.’

Theo chuckled. ‘You are extremely unexpected, Effie. And please don’t take that as an insult the way you did at the bar.’

Effie exhaled slowly. ‘All right. I’m just’ – she hesitated – ‘not used to compliments. They tend to flow Bonnie’s way.’

‘It must be hard living in her extremely loud shadow. I get it, a bit. My dad’s the larger-than-life one in my family. Smart, successful, handsome. It’s impossible to live up to him sometimes.’

Given that Theo was all of those things, Effie suspected that he was just being nice. And hated him a little bit for it.

‘Are you getting coffee before work?’ Theo added.

Effie froze. She’d been on her way to The Winged Monkey, but perhaps she could skip it and rely on the crusty machine at the library.

Nudged with a strong enough charm, it put out something at least resembling coffee.

If you added enough cream and sugar and about ten pumps of hazelnut syrup, you could choke it down without making a face.

‘I’m going to take your delayed reaction as a “yes, I really need coffee”,’ said Theo, reaching for his wallet.

Yes, she thought, I really need a coffee. Alone.

But if that was so true, why had she come to his house? With a letter that had clearly been junk mail and which she could easily have thrown in the recycling at the library. But that was too much self-reflection for a librarian who hadn’t had a coffee yet.

‘After you,’ he said, waiting for Effie to pick her way gingerly down the front steps.

At the bottom, she turned, waiting for him to catch up.

But as had happened that fateful day at the Toto Hotel, gravity and dampness intervened.

Theo slipped on the step second from the bottom, his feet kicking up and his arms splaying.

Before she could even register what she was doing, Effie clicked her fingers and with a thin stream of emerald magic quickly righted him. Theo paused, frowning.

Effie could tell he’d figured that something weird had just happened, but exactly what was beyond his comprehension. She hoped.

At least her wrists were covered by her voluminous wet-weather wear.