The Alchemist's Illusion by Gigi Pandian

Author:Gigi Pandian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: CVR05162018;alchemists illusion;accidental alchemist;gigi pandian;mystery;mystery fiction;alchemy;alchemist;portland;herbal;garden;northwest;pacific;ancient;french;cooking;french cooking;food;masquerading magician;gigi pandien;accidental alchemist;elusive elixer;the elusive elixer;mystery novel;mystery book;CVR10302018
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2018-12-03T20:24:24+00:00

thirty-two

It wouldn’t do any good to sit at home and wait for Tobias’s reconnaissance, and I didn’t see what further armchair research I could possibly do, so I went ahead with my plans to go with Max to his mom’s birthday dinner in Astoria. Much like Dorian’s sense that we needed to slow down and eat good food for our minds to operate at full capacity, I knew that being in the presence of nature and loved ones could have the same effect.

It gave me a shiver to realize how easily I thought of Max as a loved one. But I did. If I got through this mess and rescued Nicolas, I wanted to build a life here in Portland with Max.

Dorian was in the kitchen cooking. Tobias wasn’t meeting Isabella at the gallery until later, so he kept me company in the attic as I rooted through my Elixir inventory. I had two online orders to fill before leaving for Astoria, one of them an unusually large one.

My business model was the opposite of what it had been when I was on the road. Then, I’d sold a high volume of small items at flea markets and antique fairs. My postcard bin had been especially successful, featuring World War II trading cards, Victorian food trading cards, and vintage postcards from all over the world that I’d bought when new. Now, since Elixir was focused on selling higher-end items to real collectors, business wasn’t as brisk. Some of my more in-demand items included authentic apothecary shop memorabilia, first edition cookbooks, and quirky pieces of miscellany related to healing. My modest income from the online shop was enough to pay my mortgage and bills, and the money generated from Dorian’s baking for Blue Sky Teas paid for our groceries.

“Let me know if you need help getting this box to the post office,” Tobias said as we wrapped and lifted two large eighteenth-century oil paintings into a shipping container.

“I won’t object to you carrying it down the attic stairs.”

“Eddie O’Kells of Beaverton must be decorating his house,” Tobias said. “This spirit holder and alembic are too old to be used. You do give that disclaimer, right?”

“They’re popular these days as ornamental display items. I wish I’d saved more of them.”

I thought briefly about emailing the buyer back to ask if he would like to pick up the items to save on postage, since he didn’t live too far away, but decided against it. Soon I’d be leaving for the birthday party and Tobias to meet up with Isabella. It wouldn’t do for a gargoyle to meet Eddie O’Kells when he picked up his order.

Thinking of Max’s mom …

“If only I could make gold,” I grumbled. “Then I could buy something nice for Max’s mom’s sixty-fourth birthday.”

“I’m sure she’s not expecting anything.”

“I want to make a good impression.” I ran my hand through my hair. Why was it there were some things in life that made you feel like a self-conscious teenager no matter how old you got? So I was meeting my boyfriend’s mom.

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