Plenty of Trouble Read online

  “Okay, daughter dearest, you’ve made your point.” I knew Mom didn’t want to hear any more.

  “And think of it, if you clear away some of those boxes and stacked papers, you’d have room for a really nice cabinet or maybe even a home bar. You could even paint and redecorate.”

  Mom’s ears pricked up at that suggestion. “Hmm. I like the sound of that.”

  “In the meantime,” I began, “maybe now would be a good time to bring on some additional help.”

  “How do you mean? The tourist season is dying down.”

  “Yes, but I’m going to be selling a lot online leading up to Christmas, and then hopefully shortly after, as I’m selling gift cards this year, too. I’ve been thinking I’d like to up Vanessa’s hours –”

  Mom cut me off right there. “I’m sure she’d like that, but I need her, too.”

  “I realize that. That’s why I was bringing up the idea of adding another person.”

  “Oh.” My mother’s face screwed up in concentration. “That’s not a bad idea. Someone to do some grunt work and man the registers would free up Vanessa, so she could get more involved in the business. I’d like her to help more in Thingamajigs, too.”

  I didn’t bother to add that most of the time Vanessa was the one running her shop. My mother wasn’t one for adhering to regular hours behind a counter. Instead she preferred to hunt for collectibles and antiques to resell, and drum up connections along the way. Everyone in town knew Fiona and Tom Wheeler owned their store, but, more often than not, Vanessa’s was the face people saw most often when they walked into Thingamajigs.

  “Did you have anyone in mind?” Mom asked.

  I shook my head. “I was hoping you knew someone. You did such a good job finding Vanessa.”

  My mother smiled serenely at the compliment. “I don’t have anyone in mind, but let’s keep an eye out. I’d love to find someone good, and soon. If we had the right person that would free up more time for me to fancy up the house.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to manage any home décor miracles in the next few days,” I cautioned.

  “It’s unlikely, but not impossible,” Mom said. “I think we should send out a few magical feelers once you close out for the day, and let’s get Vanessa involved in the spell.”

  Vanessa wasn’t a hedge witch like my mother and me. She wasn’t really a practitioner at all, in fact, but she knew of our abilities and had zero issue with them. Most women have at least a little bit of magic in them, so her input could lend an extra charge to the enchantment. That she was happy to get more hours and be more involved in the work could only help things along.

  When it was closing time, I turned off the lights and corralled Vanessa to the fortune-telling corner for our magic session.

  Earlier, I’d told my mom to lay off the Drambuie to clear her head, so she’d switched to black coffee. When I was certain she was okay to proceed – we didn’t want the whiskey to influence decision-making too much – we three sat down and linked hands.

  “I’m not sure what to do here exactly,” Vanessa admitted. “I know you have your herbs and draw symbols and tie knots to do magic, but I’m not knowledgeable enough to do more than suggest products to customers.”

  “We don’t need to do anything specific,” Mom explained. “We simply want to throw it out there that we’re seeking the right one to add to our little family of businesses. Poppy and I will dig deep into our magical reserves and focus on the traits we’d like in a new hire. In your case, Vanessa, just think about the kind of person you’d like to bring to the fold.”

  “Do I need to speak out loud?” Vanessa asked.

  “It can work either way,” I said, “but since it’s the three of us, and this is your first time, we’ll give voice to what we want.”

  “I’ll start,” Mom began. “I would like someone who is handsome.”

  “That’s not important,” I snapped.

  “It also sounds like you’re hoping to hire a male,” Vanessa offered.

  “Having an attractive employee never hurts. Would you rather linger around a store with a good-looking clerk or an ugly old hag to help you?”

  “It’s a fair point,” I admitted. “Let’s amend that to someone who has a nice appearance, who is clean and tidy and perhaps has a bit of artistic flair.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Vanessa nodded. “I also think if it’s a guy he should have a nice butt. And broad shoulders wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, yes, those are good points,” Mom agreed.

  “I can’t complain about that,” I cut in, “but they’re hardly the most important details. I want someone who is honest, hard-working, creative, open-minded since I run a magic store and you are your own special bag of tricks, Mom.”

  “Someone who learns quickly would be good, too,” Vanessa added. “And since you mention the magic and Fiona’s, um, quirky ways, a sense of humor would be a good thing.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed.

  “I want an animal lover, too,” Mom added. Vanessa and I looked at her. “What? Tom and I have the beagles running about, and you have cats, Poppy.”

  “The cats aren’t in my store,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but the beagles are all over the place,” Vanessa said. “You definitely don’t want someone who hates dogs or who is scared of them.”

  “Okay, we agree we want someone who loves animals. People who do like cats and dogs tend to be kind, also, which is never a bad quality.”

  “Someone who is responsible, who shows up for work on time would be good, too,” Vanessa added.

  “That’s a very good start,” Mom said. “Now close your eyes and focus on those qualities.”

  We did as instructed.

  A moment later a faint form began to take shape in my mind. It was more a feeling than a vision, but I put as much energy as I could into it.

  Suddenly my mother released my hand and the image evaporated.

  “I was seeing something,” I complained, sure she’d unraveled our magical tapestry before it even had a chance to develop a pattern.

  “I think I was, too,” Vanessa offered. “It wasn’t much, but I saw what I think was a tall guy.”

  My mother shook her head. “We don’t want our imaginations to fill in the gaps too much and invite the wrong sort. We don’t necessarily need all our boxes ticked. We want certain traits and qualities. If you overthink it, you risk some superficial things overriding the essentials.”

  “Like a guy with a great ass who can’t count to ten?” I asked.

  “Exactly.”

  I pondered what she said for a moment. “That makes sense.”

  Mom stood up and then patted my arm and gave Vanessa a quick half-hug of encouragement. “That was a good exercise. I’ll keep an ear to the ground, and you two do the same. Someone will come our way and we’ll know it when – or not long after – he arrives.”

  “He?” I asked. “Now you’re certain it’ll be a guy?”

  “I have a hunch we’ll be hiring someone with a penis.”

  “Was that part of your vision?” Vanessa asked.

  “Nope. Just an intuition.” Mom stood and stretched languidly. “Now I’m going to head home. I’ve accomplished a lot today, so I think Tom should take me out to dinner to celebrate.”

  A few seconds later she was out the door.

  As we locked up my shop and made our way to our cars, Tom and Mom emerged from their house. Tom waved in our direction.

  “Where are you two headed?” Vanessa called out as she raised a hand back to him.

  “I’m taking Fiona out to dinner at the casino,” Tom answered as he held the door of his SUV open for Mom. “She’s exhausted from all the work she’s done today.”

  “Oh, well, then have fun!” Vanessa chirped. Then she turned to me, amused, and lowered her voice. “Do you think he believes that?”

  “I think he knows better than to question Mom too hard about what she’s been up to. H
e probably also wants to play blackjack.”

  “And she’ll no doubt be on the lookout for dealers with nice butts or bartenders who make pretty and potent cocktails.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  2

  I WENT STRAIGHT home, feeding my two cats before sitting down with my laptop and a bowl of chili. After two spoonfuls I heard a familiar sound that told me someone was trying to Skype with me. I usually only Skyped or Facetimed to periodically catch up with a couple college friends or to hold the occasional meeting with a distributor, so I was caught by surprise.

  I looked to see who was trying to contact me and groaned when I saw the user name: PlentyOfFun21. For a moment I thought it was some kind of dating scam, perhaps someone saying they were a military man looking to meet a woman, and then I realized it was my cousin Plenty. Then I groaned even louder.

  I clicked to accept the call and my cousin’s face popped into view.

  “Hello cousin!” she squealed as she waved her hand like she was rapidly screwing in a lightbulb. I took in her uber-blonde hair and bronzed face and gave her a smile that I hoped looked heartfelt.

  “Hello Plenty. Good to see you. You’re looking as pretty as ever.”

  “Thanks, Poppy. I just had my hair cut for my trip up north. I’m thinking I want to brighten it up, too, so I’m going to go back and have more highlights added before mom and me hit the road.”

  “That’s nice,” I said. “How have you been?”

  “I’m also thinking of buying some clothes for the trip. It’ll be fun to buy something.” Plenty’s face dipped out of sight as she retrieved something unseen. A moment later she was back, applying makeup with a huge fluffy brush as she chattered away, seemingly more to herself than to me. “I think I want a new coat. I’m thinking either a white parka or a faux fur coat. Or maybe a bomber jacket.”

  “Buying something can be fun,” I agreed. “It’s a bit brisk up here so something warm would be a good idea. Maybe a puffer coat?”

  Plenty grimaced. “There was a cute Stella McCartney puffer that I spotted at the mall, but I’m not sure that’s me. I mean, a puffer. That just screams, ‘I give up. Bring on the winter weight gain.’”

  “So that’s a no. Since you like white, faux fur and bomber jackets these days, how about a white faux fur bomber jacket?”

  “Oh, I like that idea. That’s the best of three worlds. I’m a size two, so I’d look really tiny in it, don’t you think?”

  “If you’re a size two you’ll look tiny in anything.”

  “Oh, thank you! So, anyhow, I was reaching out to you before our trip because I wanted to know if I should bring anything up from the big city.”

  I paused for a moment. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I can’t think of anything.”

  Plenty brought her face closer to the screen and I could see she was wearing a lot of makeup. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to add more to what she already had on, but I kept my thoughts to myself. She squinted hard at me. “You look tired.”

  “It’s been a long day, and the last few weeks have been busy, so I guess that’s fair.”

  “I mean, really tired. Maybe I should bring you some face masks and some undereye treatments. Since I work in a beauty store, I can use my employee discount to buy you some things. I’ll only charge you what I paid, too.”

  “Gee, that’s nice of you, but there’s no need. I assure you I look better in person. No one ever looks their best via web cam anyways.”

  “You’re wrong there. I splurged on ring lighting so I always look good, even on camera.”

  “I’m not sure what that is,” I admitted.

  “It’s a round fluorescent light that gives everything a soft focus so I look good when I do my beauty tutorials. I told you I’m doing those, right? I’m showing people how to do makeup looks. I hope to build a beauty empire online. Lots of other women have, so I figured, why shouldn’t I? Maybe it’ll lead to a makeup line. I’m prettier than a lot of those girls who have to practically redraw their fat pug noses and contour fake cheek bones, after all.”

  “Why not indeed?” I stifled the urge to yawn. I enjoyed makeup, but I was content with a few lipstick colors, and not the few hundred I was certain Plenty had in her stash. “You’ll have to tell me more about it when you visit.”

  “Don’t I look good now,” Plenty pressed. “We should get you some better lighting and I’ll show you how to contour. Your face looks a bit fat and puffy.”

  I groaned inwardly. “My face is round, I know, but I still have only one chin. I’m good.”

  Plenty started to pull out pans of golden brown powders and a huge fluffy brush. “I’ll bring a couple contouring kits along and several brushes, and I’ll show you how to play up your cheekbones and how to make your face look more oval.”

  “That sounds great,” I murmured as another yawn threatened to claim me.

  “Remember how we used to love to play with makeup when we were teens? I was always way more into it, but it was fun.”

  “It was,” I agreed. I’d never had her zeal for cosmetics, but it had been a nice bonding experience for us.

  “So, I’ll bring my contouring kit and brushes, and maybe some false eyelashes, too, to make your eyes look bigger. Oh, I’ll just bring my whole kit so I can give you a big makeover. Oh, and I found these great nutritional supplements. I took them and lost five pounds in a week. They’re great. I’ll bring you some …”

  Plenty trailed off, showing me this and that from her kit. I wasn’t really interested in watching her play show and tell, so I tried to cut her off. “Plenty …. Plenty! I’m going to get offline now. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “And I think I’ll bring some hair color along. Maybe we can make your hair auburn instead of that crazy shade of red … that color isn’t man bait, and you’re thirty now. You need to have the right look to nab the right man.”

  “I did meet someone nice recently,” I began. “His name’s Roger, and he –” I stopped when I realized she wasn’t listening. It was all monologue at this point.

  “Then we can hit the town one night. Please tell me you’ve got a couple good nightclubs up there now. You know, one that has a VIP section?”

  VIP section? I couldn’t think of a place like that around our small town. Maybe on the Canadian side, but here it was a few dollars’ cover at a couple spots on weekends, but we didn’t have anything that screamed exclusive in terms of nightlife.

  “I think I’ll bring a sequined dress that I just bought, too. It’s champagne colored, and looks rich.”

  “So, you’re putting on makeup, Plenty. Does that mean you’re going out tonight?”

  She shrugged. “I was mainly playing around, but – ” She paused to examine her handiwork. “Oh, this looks good. I may have to go out. But it’s only nine. It’s too early to head out, so we can gab some more. This is fun!”

  “Um, my connection is getting bad. You’re buffering,” I lied. “I think I’m losing you.”

  “I’ll bring along plenty of self-tanner, too. Maybe we can do a girls’ night and I can make you look like you spent a week in the Bahamas. How does that sound, hmmm …?”

  “Great, great,” I said. “Oh, you’re freezing up on me. Are you there? Hello? Are you still there?”

  With that I snapped my laptop shut and set it back in my home office, enjoying the quiet before the storm.

  3

  THE NEXT MORNING, I rose early to go and have a coffee at Emily’s Eatery. For some reason I felt a strong pull, almost like an itch that couldn’t easily be scratched, and it was nudging me to stop by before I opened my shop.

  The owner, Emily Andersen, gave me a nod in greeting, as she busied herself behind the counter. I wanted a plain latte this morning and a blueberry muffin. Before I had a chance to place an order, Emily slid the coffee drink and baked good in front of me.

  No, I wasn’t being predictable. Emily simply had a knack for knowing what people wanted to eat or drink.


  I sat at a corner table with my breakfast and began flipping through the day’s edition of the local paper.

  Despite newspapers all over the country struggling, the Sault News held on, mostly due to its focus on all things local.

  Its crime blotter was a huge draw. People liked to read through the police reports and gossip about who it was that got drunk and was caught urinating behind the Dumpster of a bar, or titter on about a statue of the Virgin Mary that was stolen from someone’s front yard. It rarely got juicier than that, save for the odd car crash or marijuana bust.

  Its editorial page tended to have a fair number of letters from residents bickering about grievances both large and small. Mostly it was the local gadflies who took issue with some city council ruling.

  Today’s leading letter was from a business owner who served on the downtown development board. Her gripe was about spotting “countless homeless people” loitering downtown and in the neighborhoods flanking the area. Since most folks dressed pretty casually, to say the least – let’s just say a lot of us up here choose to dress for warmth and comfort instead of trying to look fashionable – I wondered how she could tell.

  When I lived near Detroit, the homeless were always easier to spot. Here, it could be someone who’d been doing outdoor labor.

  After finishing my read-through, I set the paper down and glanced around the café.

  It was mostly locals having their breakfasts and coffees. A couple old salts sat at their regular table, talking about fishing and hunting. Some elderly ladies were chattering about their children and grandchildren. Professionals picked up chai- and latte-to-go orders before they made their way to their offices downtown.

  A quartet of college students sat at one table toward the back, huddled over their laptops. One was complaining loudly about her struggle to write a thousand words about “Paul’s Case.” I smiled, remembering having to write about that same Willa Cather short story when I attended college. Clearly Professor Gardiner hadn’t changed her syllabus in the last ten or so years.