Adelle Hendrix glanced down at the filmy peasant shirt, ruffled brown skirt, and colorful scarf tied around her waist. Complimenting the odd bridesmaid’s outfit, she wore huge gold hoops in her ears, a riot of gold bangles on her wrist, and a pair of brown ankle boots.
“I look silly.”
“You look gorgeous,” Ben Jackson said. “Remember, this is for Nicole, your best friend and favorite person in the world. Second only to me, of course.”
“Of course.” Adelle tugged at the front of her shirt, which had gaped open to reveal her flesh-toned, cleavage-enhancing bra. “I feel like I’m early for the Halloween party circuit.”
“Well, Halloween’s only a couple weeks away.” Ben averted his gaze from the brief sampling of the goods she’s inadvertently given him. With this ill-fitted shirt, it was bound to happen again—probably numerous times—before the night was over. Luckily, Ben was her platonic roommate, so a few mishaps wouldn’t give him the wrong idea about their relationship. She’d accidentally walked in on him in a state of half-dress before, and he’d once come upon her, buried under the covers, in the process of giving herself a spectacular orgasm, courtesy of her trusty vibrator. They’d both laughed it off in that way people do when they experience something embarrassing and don’t want to speak of it—ever. And they’d never mentioned the experiences again.
No, she wasn’t worried.
“If it helps, I’m in the same boat.” He gestured at his brown slacks, brown knee-high boots, and white billowing pirate’s shirt.
“Not even remotely. Your getup is sexy. Mine is just ... annoying.”
“It’s sexy,” Ben assured her. “Especially because you keep showing off your bra.”
Adelle scowled and tugged at the front of her shirt again. “I hate weddings. And now I hate theme weddings.”
The mirth in his eyes shifted to sympathy as Ben dropped his hand onto her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know. But Nicole and Nick are happy, and this is how they want to celebrate the beginning of the rest of their lives together. You can be happy for them, can’t you?”
The air went out of her lungs like a deflating balloon. “Of course I can. I think.”
“You can. This is nothing like your situation.”
“I know.” She hadn’t ended up married, like Nicole and Nick were about to do. Instead, she’d been jilted at the altar. Her fiancé, Daryl, she’d learned, had been leading a double life, and his wife—and mother to his three kids—had unraveled his little fantasy world only the day before. While Adelle had been forced to stand before her friends and family wearing a big white dress and tear tracks on her face, explaining that the wedding wasn’t happening and thank-you-very-much-anyway, Daryl was being slapped with divorce papers and a possible prison term. She hadn’t gone on a date in the four years since that humiliating day.
“Nicole and Nick love each other. Unconditionally. They don’t have secrets. They tell each other everything. Just like us.” She gave Ben a heartfelt smile.
“Not exactly the same. Nick and Nicole get to have sex, too.”
Adelle canted her head and studied her best friend. “Are you saying you wish we had sex?”
Ben laughed and ruffled her hair, and she squealed in protest and swatted his hand away. “Nope. My life is perfect the way it is. I have you, essentially the perfect woman, without any drama.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “And when I need a little physical release, I have my little black, er, phone. All the girls whose numbers are in here understand. I give them a night to remember, and they don’t expect anything in return. No strings.”
Like her, Ben also had a fear of relationships, although for very different reasons. She’d sworn off relationships after being jilted in the most humiliating way possible; he’d sworn off them after his parents divorced, got back together, divorced again, got back together, divorced again, and the last she’d heard, his mother was shacking up with his uncle and his dad was in Vegas chasing a showgirl. Ben wasn’t entirely sure the showgirl was actually a girl.
“We’re a pair, aren’t we? I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m so glad we’re just friends, Ben Jackson.”
He guided her out to door—they were on track to make the wedding on time. Ever the gallant companion, he opened the door to his sleek black Chevy Silverado and waited for her to hop into the passenger seat. Once he jogged around and climbed into the driver’s seat, he asked, “You ever wonder what might have happened if you and Nicole hadn’t enrolled in that urban legends class at U of M? I mean, I never would have guessed this would be our future. I was totally macking on Nicole back then, and you were helping to convince her to blow me off.”
“That’s because I knew you were only looking for a one-night stand.”
“And I knew you were a relationship kind of girl, which is why I hit on Nicole instead of you.”
“Look at her now. Nicole grew up and fell in love. When are you going to do the same?”
“When are you?”
“Been there, tried that. You can’t convince me you didn’t feel sorry for me when you offered to move into the house I’d just bought and thought I’d be sharing with Daryl and our two-point-five kids.”
Ben shrugged and guided the truck down the street toward the church where Nicole and Nick were due to exchange wedding vows. “I needed a place to live, you needed someone to mow the lawn. Considering it’s been four years and we haven’t had any real knock-down-drag-out fights, I’d say we both got a pretty good deal.”
“Yeah,” Adelle said, smiling. “We sure did.”
While everyone else in the wedding party had been instructed to wear a gypsy getup, the bride wore white. A tulle and satin and lace contraption that made her look like a fairy princess. Nicole’s face positively glowed with her joy as she flitted about the reception tent, greeting wedding guests, posing for pictures, and enjoying her moment in the spotlight.
“Have you been to visit the fortune-teller yet?” she asked when, after a whirlwind line dancing routine, she plopped into the seat next to Adelle with an ice water in her hand.
Adelle arched her brow. “You have a fortune-teller at your wedding?”
“It’s Nick’s grandma. She’s this kooky old Romani lady. She’s crazy, but her predictions are always right. She helped bring me and Nick together.”
“I can see why you invited her to be part of the wedding, then. I’ve never met two people more perfect for each other.”
“Aw, thanks. But seriously, go check out her tent.” Nicole pointed at the far corner of the reception area, where a small, brightly colored, striped tent was situated, a lone orange candle perched at the entrance.
The wedding reception was an outdoor affair, a risky undertaking in autumn in the Midwest. October could bring anything from snow, sleet, or, like today, balmy sixty-degree weather. Luck, or Mother Nature, was on their side this evening. The sides of the tent had been left open, and the wedding guests were subject to a breathtaking view of the sunset over a nearby lake. The orange and yellow foliage of the trees overlooking the body of water all but glowed in the last of the sun’s rays. A fat, pale moon was rising quickly to replace the sun in the sky.
White twinkle lights were strung everywhere, and clusters of thick orange pillar candles sat on every table, surrounded by tiny gourds and piles of sparkling crystals. The table linens were chocolate brown to match the bridesmaids’ skirts. Clusters of dried corn stalks flanked the main entrance to the tent and decorated each of the bars. Tables were set up at one end of the tent, with the dance floor in the middle, and the lone, smaller, striped tent on the far end.
“You know that isn’t really my thing,” Adelle said.
“Come on, give it a try.”
“This is like that flea market Ben loves. The one with crystals and spells that don’t exist. News flash: I didn’t actually take that urban legends class because I believed in all that hocus pocus stuff. I only wanted an easy A.”
“And instead you barely passed and ended up with the world’s coolest best friends.” Nicole chuckled at her own comment. “Come on, give it a try. I want to know what you think of her.”
“Who?”
“Nick’s grandmother. The fortune-teller.”
“No thanks.”
“Why not?” Nicole’s lips turned down into a pretty pout that no doubt worked on Nick, but Adelle wasn’t sleeping with her second-best friend, so it didn’t have quite the same effect.
“Reality, Nicole. After what happened with Daryl, I don’t believe in fairy tales or magic or—or any of that stuff anymore. Not that I ever really did.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She had believed in happily ever after, until Daryl stole her dreams away when his wife revealed him for the lying, philandering scumbag he was and left Adelle to return wedding gifts and sell her barely used dress on eBay.
Crap, some manners she had. Adelle covered her friend’s hand with her own. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down on your wedding day.”
“And I’m sorry for dredging up bad memories on my wedding day.” Nicole paused. “But would you please just go see her? This is really important to me, and it is my wedding day.” Batting her lashes, she affected that pout again.
Adelle sighed. Nicole pleaded again.
“Fine.” Pushing away from the table, Adelle tugged the neckline of her peasant blouse into place. “But I’m taking back your wedding gift if it’s as dumb as I think it’s going to be.”
Nicole’s laughter chased her as she skirted the dance floor and made her way toward the tent that oddly enough seemed awfully far away, given the dimensions of the reception area. Glancing around, she spotted Ben standing at one of the bars, chatting with a group of people, most of whom she recognized as friends from their college days. She gave serious consideration to altering her path and dragging him to see the fortune-teller with her. He was the one who was into this sort of thing, after all. Adelle didn’t believe in anything but cold, hard facts.
But then, quite suddenly, the entrance to the smaller tent loomed before her. She blinked rapidly, certain she had not moved so quickly. The area was dark, too dark, given the waning sunlight still streaming into the tent. Not to mention the thousands of white twinkle lights strung everywhere.
“This is kind of creepy,” she whispered.
The groups of guests on the dance floor seemed a long way away. Even the noise of the song the DJ cued up was muted. Hesitantly, she reached out and grasped the tent flap, pulling it open and then pausing until a raspy voice snapped, “Get in here already.”
The inside of the tent was bare save for piles of silken material strewn on the floor and an elderly woman who sat in a throne-like chair, a small round table before her. A squat, grinning jack-o-lantern and a fat red candle with a bright, tall flame were perched on the table. The candle and the carved pumpkin were the only lights in the tent, but they clearly illuminated the woman who sat behind them.
The woman who, by Adelle’s judgment, looked to be approximately a thousand years old. Her face was heavily lined, her cheeks sagged, her nose was crooked. She wore a brightly colored scarf on her head, wispy gray hairs sticking out from under the silky material. Her body was covered with the same type of peasant shirt and billowing skirt that Adelle wore, except it was uncomfortably obvious she wasn’t wearing a cleavage-enhancing bra, because her breasts hung somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.
“Quit staring at me, girl. You’ll look like this someday, too, if you’re lucky.”
Lucky?
“Lucky,” the woman said, as if Adelle had repeated the word out loud. “You wanna know how many hunks I had in my day? There’s a reason I look so worn out.” She cackled loudly as she smacked the top of the table, shaking the jack-o-lantern and causing the candle flame to shimmer.
“Are you going to read my fortune or something?” Adelle just wanted this whole scene over with.
“Do I look like I know how to read fortunes?” the old woman shot back. “Nobody can tell the future, you idiot.”
She blinked in astonishment, too shocked to even respond.
“So, Adelle, what is it you think you’re looking for tonight?”
“Wait, how do you know my name?”
“How do I know a lot of things? I listen. I pay attention. I notice what is right in front of my face. You ought to take a page from that book.”
“I listen and pay attention,” she protested. Was this why Nicole had begged her to visit this old woman? Was she supposed to be funny? Comic relief, in the form of spewed insults? This was so not Adelle’s scene.
“Look, I’m going to—” She turned with the intention of leaving when suddenly the tent went completely and utterly dark. She froze, disoriented and unsure of even where the entrance was located.
“What you’re going to do is listen, for once,” the woman’s voice said, echoing as if they were inside a cave instead of a tent. Adelle wrapped her arms around herself and stood there, waiting. She didn’t really have any other option at the moment. She shivered, more from nervousness than the cold. In fact, inside the smaller, closed tent, the temperature was almost uncomfortably warm.
“That’s better,” the woman said, the echo receding, her voice rife with satisfaction. The candle inside the jack-o-lantern flickered to life first, and Adelle blinked. The carved face was no longer grinning. It looked as if it were frowning in disapproval.
“The pumpkin—” Adelle started, but then the candle flickered to life and her gaze was drawn back to the old woman who sat behind it, steadily watching her. Adelle resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at the entrance to the tent.
“W-what do you want?” she asked, hating the way her voice cracked with her nervousness.
“Peace, love, and happiness,” the woman retorted. “But I’d settle for a romp with your date. He’s single, isn’t he?”
“Ben?” Adelle said in surprise. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Why do people start offensive phrases with the words ‘no offense’?”
“Er…”
The old woman waved a veined, wrinkled hand over the candle flame. The rings she wore on every finger and her thumb glittered in the light, gold bangle bracelets clinking gently on her arm.
“Well, who do you think is his type?” the woman asked.
Adelle furrowed her brow, confused by the woman’s question.
“What’s so damn difficult about my question, girl? You know him, don’t you? He’s your best friend, so you say. If that’s the case, then you ought to know what he likes in a woman. You’ve known him for ten years. That’s almost a third of your lifetime. Answer me,” she snapped.
“I, uh, I…” Adelle stuttered over an answer. How did this obnoxious old woman know anything at all about her and Ben’s friendship? Nicole must have filled her in while she was getting her own fortune read.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “He likes good-looking girls. Blondes, it seems.”
The old woman cocked her head to the side and gave her a considering look. “Well, that puts me out of the running, I suppose. Although a box of ‘golden platinum’ could remedy that easily enough. What else? That boy can’t be so superficial that looks alone would win his heart.”
Adelle snorted. “You’re right on that account. Ben’s awfully picky about women. He can’t stand airheads. Definitely needs an intelligent woman.”
“Golden platinum’s looking more and more tempting,” the old woman mused. “I like a man who appreciates a girl’s brains.”
Adelle cleared her throat. “Er…”
“What about his extracurricular activities? What’s he into? Besides banging brainy blondes. What’s a girl need to know to attract his attention?”
“Banging brainy... Are you trying to set Ben up with someone? Because he’s not exactly a relationship kind of guy.”
“There you go, not seeing what’s right in front of your face again. I told you, I was a real looker back in the day. You wanna know how many men I’ve wrapped these thighs around?” She slapped a hand onto her lap and her skirt jiggled. Her grin revealed that she was missing both incisors.
“I bet I could give that hunk a ride he won’t soon forget. Might even convince him to fall in love with me. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me.”
Adelle glanced around the tent. There were deep shadows in every corner. The entrance seemed very far away, and this conversation was getting out of control. “Right. Um, was there anything else? I should probably get back to the reception.”
The old lady shook her head. “You remind me of Nicole.”
“Nicole has dark hair, and I’m blonde.”
“Christ, you’re an idiot,” the woman muttered under her breath. “I didn’t say you look like Nicole. I’m not gonna lie, there was a point when I thought she wasn’t good enough for my Nicky. I had awfully damn high expectations for my grandson’s mate.”
“Mate?”
The old woman ignored the questioning tone. “But Nicky was smitten. I suppose she came through well enough. They’ll make me pretty little great-grandbabies, at any rate. This wedding, the theme, you know this was all in tribute to me, right?”
“I thought it was in honor of Nick’s heritage.”
“I’m part of that heritage, aren’t I?” She shook her head. “Kids these days. You know back in my day, marriages were arranged. Our parents told us who we were gonna spend the rest of our lives with. I gotta say, there are times I wish we could go back to that period. I bet your parents would know what to do, wouldn’t they?”
“You mean, pick out my husband?” A laugh burbled out of her. “My mother would marry me off to Ben in a heartbeat.”
The old woman sat there, staring with unblinking eyes.
The laughter died on Adelle’s lips. “Ben? Don’t be ridiculous,” she blustered. “He’s my best friend. We’ve never— He isn’t— I don’t— We aren’t even compatible,” she finally managed. “He loves this kind of stuff,” she said, waving her hand to encompass the tent. “Hocus pocus. Urban legends. Mythical stories. Just ask him. We’re complete opposites.”
“You don’t believe in any of that stuff?”
Adelle shook her head.
“Why not?”
“It isn’t real. I believe in concrete stuff. Facts.”
“Like love?”
“Love isn’t concrete.”
“Is that why you don’t believe in it?”
“I didn’t say that. I believe in love. Look at Nick and Nicole. I’ve never seen anyone more in love. They’re obviously perfect for each other.”
“All true, but none of that is concrete, and therefore, by your logic, not real.”
Adelle shook her head, trying to clear it. “What are you trying to say?”
The old woman leaned forward. From her vantage point, standing on the other side of the small table, Adelle could see clear down the front of her shirt. As suspected, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts did, indeed, brush her knees.
“Have you ever heard of the Legend of Bloody Mary?” the old woman asked, her voice low and serious.
“The drink?”
“You really are an idiot,” the woman snapped.
“The queen?” Adelle desperately tried again, as if she needed to prove to the strange, insulting woman that she wasn’t an idiot. “From Tutor times?”
“Closer,” the woman said, her tone resigned. “I thought you said Ben liked intelligent women.”
Adelle glared at her.
The old woman sat back in her chair. The candlelight flickered across her features, distorting them, making them appear … younger. Adelle blinked and the impression was gone. The woman was old and wrinkled again, drooping dark eyes watching her closely.
“According to the legend, there’s a certain time of year that if a girl really wants to know, if she is sincere enough about it, she can take a candle and hold it before a particular mirror, and the image of her future mate will appear.”
“Even though I have no interest in going down that path again, the next time I have a candle and a mirror handy, I’ll be sure to take a look,” Adelle muttered. She was fast losing patience with this game. She wanted to get back to the reception, back to Ben’s side. But first, she planned to lay into Nicole for cajoling her into doing this and then leaving her alone with this kooky old lady.
“It works best during the harvest moon.”
Adelle glanced at the entrance of the tent. The curtain was closed, but she knew the moon had risen in the sky by now, was probably hovering over the lake, casting pale moonlight over the reception tent.
“Try it now, if you’d like.” The woman waved her hand to the side. Adelle turned to look in the direction she indicated and then gasped.
“That mirror wasn’t there a minute ago,” she blurted.
“You just weren’t looking,” the woman replied.
“Yes, I was.” She stabbed her finger toward the mirror. “It wasn’t there. The only thing in this tent was you and that candle and that stupid jack-o-lantern.” The jack-o-lantern’s carved face was pensive. How many glasses of wine had she consumed tonight?
The old woman indicated the candle. “Go ahead. Since it’s here now, why don’t you test the old legend?”
“Who put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke, because I’m not laughing.”
“Me neither,” the woman said mildly. “Go ahead. I’m just as curious as you.”
“I’m not curious,” she insisted, but it wasn’t true. She was curious, if only to prove that the woman was as certifiable as she suspected. After the humiliating and disastrous way her relationship with Daryl ended, Adelle had sworn off men—forever.
“Fine.” She reached over and snatched up the candle. The flame shimmered and wavered, and for a moment, Adelle feared it would go out entirely, once again bathing the tent in utter darkness. For some reason, she was certain that if the candle flame was extinguished then the jack-o-lantern would go dark, too. She froze and held her breath until the flickering fire steadied again.
“Go ahead,” the old woman encouraged when she did not move.
Adelle’s breath caused the flame to shiver. She turned and walked slowly toward the tall, oval mirror situated on two wooden legs. Curious hieroglyphics were carved into the frame; it was probably older than the crazy old woman. It was quite beautiful, though— how could she have not noticed it when she first entered the tent?
Ben would like this mirror. He had a thing for antiques, which wasn’t surprising given his fascination with all things strange and unusual and steeped in folklore and legends.
“What do you see?” The old woman’s voice was hushed and sounded as if it were coming from a great distance.
“I see a twenty-eight-year-old blonde woman who was forced to dress up like a gypsy so she could stand up in her friend’s theme wedding.”
“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you? I can see why you and Nicky’s mate are such good friends. Concentrate,” the old woman barked.
“What am I concentrating on?”
The woman made a noise that sounded like a Whoopee Cushion. “The mirror. What do you see? Other than yourself.”
Adelle stared into the reflective glass until the image of herself, dressed in a peasant shirt and flowing skirt, blurred, until all she really saw was the flickering candle.
The flame was abruptly extinguished, and then just as suddenly flared back to life, so brightly that Adelle looked up at the mirror instead of directly at the light. Something in the glass caught her eye and she focused, trying to determine what it was.
The jack-o-lantern was grinning at her again. And slightly to the left, there was Ben, standing next to the glowing pumpkin, his hands thrust casually into the pockets of his pants, a lopsided smile on his face.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She heard the relief in her voice as she turned around.
He wasn’t there.
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