Tracy Madison - A Taste of Magic

LOVE SPELL NEW YORK CITY

To my great-grandmother Verda.
You helped me see that anything in life is possible
and you always, no matter what, believed in me. I miss you.

Contents

You married a lemon, Elizabeth, said Grandma Verda, as if that explained everything.

Interesting concept. Id never compared my ex-husband to a piece of fruit before. Unless you counted the time I likened a certain appendage of his to a banana. Assuming thats true, even lemons can be satisfying. With a little water and sugar, you have lemonade.

Grandma Verda wrinkled her nose. You add sugar to a bad lemon and all you get is a nasty aftertaste. And Marc Stevens is about as rotten a lemon as any Ive ever seen.

We were sitting in my office at A Taste of Magic, the bakery I co-own with my best friend, Jon Winterson. When Id arrived at the crack of dawn, Id found Grandma Verda, hot pink sneakers and all, waiting for me.

I kept my voice light. But Grandma, when I married Marc, you thought he was perfect for me.

That was ten years ago. I didnt know. He was still ripeninghe could have turned into an orange. Oranges make decent husbands.

I see. Well, not really, but her train of thought was interesting. Maybe someone should write a guide on how to know youre marrying a lemon. I mean, you get an instruction manual in three different languages when you buy a toaster, so why not when youre committing your life to another person?

I liked that idea. It could be given out after the I dos and right before the kiss. Hmm. On second thought, it should happen before the I dos. That way, either party can hotfoot it out of the ceremony before its too late.

Even so, I dont think it would have changed my mind. Id been pretty set in my decision to become Elizabeth Stevens.

You were too good for him. I knew that much. Grandma Verda sipped her tea. I dont know why you agreed to do it.

She wasnt talking about my ill-fated marriage any longer. This subject was one I preferred not to discuss. Im fine. Really. Its not that big of a deal.

Id just told my first lie for the day, and not even an acceptable one at that. While I tended to be an honest person, there were two things in life I figured all women had the right to lie about: chocolate and headaches. Neither of which was the case here. And I never lied to my grandmother. Well, hardly ever. It didnt sit well with me that I just had.

She stared at me with her never-miss-anything blue eyes. You know how when the quiet stretches on too long you feel forced to talk? To fill in the gap, I said, Im sure Im not the only woman in the same situation. Besides, Im just baking a cake. Its not like I dont do that every day, anyway. Crap. I was overexplaining.

Uh-huh. She smacked her teacup down, a wave of Earl Grey sloshing over the side. Let loose, Lizzie. Youve been holding back for a year under a blanket of Im sorry, and Im fine, and Its no big deal. Tell me how you really feel.

Her words hit me dead center.

I sopped up the tea with a paper towel and ignored the pressure in my chest. What do you want me to say? That Im crushed Marc left me for his blond Barbie-doll receptionist? That my marriage fell into the worst stereotype ever? Okay, yeahit sucked. But it was a year ago.

Last year was supposed to be our year. Marc and I were finally going to start a family. Id wanted a baby for a long time, but hed kept giving me reasons to wait. Only, instead of having a child, hed decided to marry one.

My eyes welled with tears. One blink and the charade would be up. Ill be right back, Grandma. Theres something in my eye. Second lie for the day. My grandmother might be tough, but she was still eighty-five years old. She didnt need to see her granddaughter cry.

In the restroom, after the tears subsided, I turned the cold water on full blast and splashed my face. I was pale. Too pale. And the dark circles spoke of too many sleepless nights. I put a little color back by pinching my cheeks. As I stared at the woman in the mirrora strangerI realized it was time to quit deluding myself. I wasnt okay. I hadnt been for twelve long months. And what I had to do today might make me ill.

Scratch that. What I had to do today could kill me. I could even see the headlines in the Chicago Tribune:

DEATH BY CAKE!

Highland Park Baker Chokes to Death Swallowing Every Last Vestige of Pride

While Baking Ex-Husband and Mistresss Wedding Cake!

Yep, thats right. My job today was to create a culinary work of art for the next soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Stevens. Marc and Tiffany. Otherwise known as my cheating ex and the young, beautiful woman hed left me for exactly one year ago. And if that wasnt hell enough, it also happened to be my thirty-fifth birthday. Now, for the second birthday in a row, Marc was front and center in my mind. Something just wasnt right about that.

I pulled in a deep breath, pinched my cheeks again for good measure, and returned to my grandmother. Sorry about that, I said, avoiding her gaze.

Grandma Verda squeezed my wrist. I want you to be happy.

Blinking, I said, I know. Ill get there. Why are you here so early, anyway? Wont you be at Mom and Dads tomorrow night?

My family was celebrating my birthday the following night, since it was a Friday. It was easier for everyone to get together.

Of course I will. I never miss a chance to see all my grand-kids. But this is nice. A few minutes alone with my granddaughter on her actual birthday. We havent done that for years.

This was a better subject. I miss those lunches, but Im glad you came by.

A smile wreathed her face. She pulled two envelopes out of her purse, one purple and one white. Holding one in each hand, she looked at them. She looked at me. Finally, she tucked the white envelope away and handed me the purple card.

Open it now. She clapped in excitement, much as a child would.

Curious, I slid my nail under the flap and lifted the card out. Glitter flew up at me, and the heaviness in my chest disappeared. I laughed. Youve been putting glitter in my cards since I was little.

Birthdays are about magic. Magic is fun. So is glitter.

Shed always said that. Always told me that on one of my birthdays, shed have a very special gift for me. I glanced up and saw her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. Maybe it was this birthday?

I turned the card face front and laughed again, this time at the picture of a bikini-clad woman wearing a birthday hat popping out of a cake. Maybe more apropos for a man, but after all, I did bake cakes for a living.

I opened the card, and a twenty-dollar bill swirled to the floor. Inside, my grandmothers flowing handwriting said:

Its time to believe in magic, Elizabeth.
Open your heart wide and be true to yourself
so the gift can find you.

Happy Birthday, my darling girl.

Love, Grandma.

P.S. Have fun!

The writing seemed to shine brightly for a second. Bizarre. I blinked and rubbed my fingers along the ink strokes. What-ever I thought Id seen was gone. Chalking it up to the early hour and my insufficiently caffeinated system, I knelt down to retrieve the twenty.

This is great, Grandma. Thank you, I said, tucking the money back into the card.

Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced from the card to me. How do you feel?

Fine. Why?

Oh, just wondering. Im your grandmother. Its important to me that youre happy.

Hmm. Something wasnt quite right, but I couldnt put my finger on what. A glance at the clock told me I had no time to figure it out, either. Come with me to the kitchen. I need to start work.