Coven Mitt by Rebecca Regnier

Author:Rebecca Regnier [Regnier, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I returned to a dining room that looked spectacular. Yay! Order and beauty at the end of a tumultuous day.

From the paint to the refinished floor, it was stunning. There was a note from Grady stuck to my fridge.

“Onward to the kitchen, if you’re brave enough. Let your feline empress know she can return to her realm in twenty-four hours when everything’s dry. Grady.”

Agnes padded in to find me reading the note.

“He’s handsome. Has a nice butt. But honestly, go for the vampire. He’s rich.”

“I’m not dating Grady or Brule for that matter. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business. And you need a blowout and touchup. Also, do you think your complexion is so glowing that you don’t need a little blush? You’re nearly as pale as that vampire without the gothic backstory.”

Agnes padded away satisfied in the knowledge that she was correct about my relationships and my hair and makeup.

I looked at myself in the reflection of the microwave door. I was pale, and my gray streak was glowing. I had no idea when I’d have time to deal with that aspect of my life. Grooming. And I wasn’t that worried about it. I knew Agnes wouldn’t allow my standards to slip too far before she added her blistering advice.

My phone buzzed.

“Emergency meeting, after Zumba.” It was the group text that Pauline had titled Coven Mitt. The Mitten was a nickname for Michigan, and she loved her little play on words.

“Yep, we all saw that gypsy in your story,” Georgie added to the thread.

“I’m researching fines and penalties for squatting,” Candy was always at ready with a city ordinance for every occasion.

“Fill me in after your dance class, and eff that company trying to take our water,” Tatum weighed in. She kept her muscle tone by lifting kegs. Morning Zumba wasn’t ever going to be on her list of things to do.

“Fawn’s going to miss too, she’s got her hands full. I’ll explain in the morning.”

We all signed off. I crawled into my bed and closed my eyes. Gypsy Kings, water, and Earl McGowan battled in my brain with the sight of Brule saving Savanah.

I eventually fell asleep on my satin pillow case. But it was brief, light, and unsatisfying.

I showed up the next morning at Zumba with a half a belly full of caffeine but a full to the brim number of things to worry about.

“And shake your shoulders,” Pauline said. We tried to comply with her dance instructions. She sported tennis shoes with light up soles. Pauline’s enthusiasm powered a lot of us through class. As though her energy could get us through anything, even twerking. I, for the most part, was just trying not to die.

I had secured a space in the back of the class. I was bad at Zumba. Epically bad. But I wasn’t alone. Georgie was also a Zumba idiot like me. We laughed our way through the class, sweated, and hoped Pauline wouldn’t have the rest of the class turn around too much so the front would see what the back was doing.

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