Wishful Wisteria (Wisteria Witches Mysteries Book 10) by Angela Pepper

Author:Angela Pepper [Pepper, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

After a nice, leisurely shower, I joined my aunt and my daughter for a meal that was technically more of an early dinner than a late brunch. We ate brunch food anyway, including spiced muffins that were a few icing flowers shy of being cupcakes.

Zoey teased out a few details about Zinnia’s travels in Europe, and the three of us caught up on each other’s lives.

I told her about Harry the Ghost, and my recent run-in with Ambrosia Abernathy, the bratty witch who was going to feel my wrath very soon, unless Bentley put her away for murder first.

“Assuming she did anything wrong,” Zoey interjected. “Ambrosia might be getting framed. It could all be a setup.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “I thought you didn’t even know the girl? Why are you defending her? Are you just playing devil’s advocate to keep me on my toes?”

“She’s a weird loner at my high school.” Zoey gave me a duh look. “You figure it out.”

“Aw. That’s sweet of you to defend one of your tribe,” I said. “You’re a good kid.” I took another spiced muffin. “And a fine baker.”

My aunt leveled her gaze at my daughter. “Zoey, you are not a weird loner. Don’t ever call yourself by any label that you wouldn’t want to stick.”

I bit my tongue. My aunt never called herself weird, and yet it hadn’t helped. As I snickered to myself over this observation, I looked down to see what she was wearing. What I saw surprised me. She was wearing a fashionable pair of lightweight pants and a tailored blouse with short, puffed sleeves. The pants were a sophisticated navy and the blouse was cream silk. Neither item was floral. How had I not noticed this the moment I’d seen her? Aunt Zinnia always wore florals. Often two or three different clashing prints.

She must have noticed me staring at her, because she tucked her hair behind one ear self-consciously, exposing one of her earrings. It was a tiny gold flower.

“Nice earrings,” I said.

She gave me a pained look. “Your mother gave me a makeover, only she called it a make-under.”

“You do look a little, um, Zirconia-esque.” I wrinkled my nose. “But less bony. You have some curves to fill it out.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a compliment, Auntie Z,” Zoey said. “You look extra pretty today. Mom’s not very good with compliments. She didn’t learn, because she was changing my diapers and working odd jobs during the critical years when a young woman is socialized by her peers in how to pay compliments.”

I stared at her. “Oh, really? Is that so?”

Zoey gave me a thoughtful look. “That’s Griffin’s theory, anyway.”

“It’s none of Griffin’s business,” I said.

“Griffin,” Zinnia said. “The boy who is not your boyfriend?”

Zoey, who’d been standing as she cleared plates, flopped back down into a chair. She prepared to launch into what I imagined would be a thirty-minute dissertation on the complexities of her relationship with Griffin, the young man whose texts or lack thereof could throw any day into ruin.

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