Midlife Magic Mirror ebook

Chapter One of Midlife Magic Mirror

Some days I had the adulting thing down. Then there were days I spit toothpaste in my own hair.
“What the shit?”
Shifting my binder, phone, shoulder bag, and umbrella to my left side, I fumbled with the keys, wondering if I had used the wrong one. Why else wouldn’t it fit in the lock? I’d color-coded each bow with different nail polish to keep exactly that from happening. Mysterious Purple for the garage, Crimson Skies for the office I never used for anything but storage, and Golden Sands for the storage locker that held my surplus projects. It had been a very long day and my mind was back at the college campus where I’d just left my son for the start of his freshman fall semester.
I squinted at the key, already on the verge of panic. I lost things. Important things. More often than I wanted to admit. Nope, that was the key with Seafoam painted on the flat. The binder with all the fabric samples fell out of my hand and landed face-down in a puddle as I attempted to reinsert the key. Frustration made tears mingle with the rain.
Okay, self, deep breath. Focus. All I wanted was to get out of these wet clothes, pour a glass of wine, and sit in my oversized bathtub until I thawed out. Why, today of all days, did everything have to be so frigging difficult?
“Because you have ADHD,” I muttered the answer to my own question. “Because your frigging brain makes everything more frigging difficult, Donna.”
The brain I’d had for forty-four years was neurodivergent. The diagnosis was relatively new. I hadn’t been a disruptive child who bounced off the walls during class. I didn’t make scenes and didn’t disrupt the other students. Even if my mother would have listened to conventional advice, there had been no need to go to a doctor or try out a prescription. No, I just quietly read what I wanted to read instead of the things I was supposed to be reading. I quietly developed my ways to cope with hyperfocus, tuning out, and time blindness. I quietly slipped through the cracks.
In its own way, my wonky brain had done me a solid. It forced me to develop coping strategies to function. My key method hadn’t failed me before so clearly, something else was amiss.
Warm rain beat down on my umbrella and ran in rivulets around me as I crouched down to study the doorknob. The brass doorknob. I stared at it for a long moment, trying to reconcile what I was seeing. The knob was new. As in brand-spanking new. No gouges or scratches from fumbling with keys. It was also ugly and didn’t quite cover the unpainted section the previous oil-rubbed bronze had because it had been oval, not circular.
“What the hell is going on here?” Could there have been some sort of accident? A tree fell through the front door, smashing the old handle and lock set. Yeah, I could picture that. If so, why hadn’t Lewis called me to let me know what had happened?
After shifting a load of stuff to one hand, I tried my husband’s cell. Straight to voicemail. He’d left the campus early, stating he had things to do for work. I had wanted to lean on him on the day that had tied my insides into anxious knots, sending my lone chick out to fly the nest. But Lewis wasn’t the strong supportive type of husband. Most of the time I had to work around him. Better for everyone that he’d left.
A gust of wind almost ripped my umbrella from my hands. Ridiculous. I could just go in through the garage door. The mystery of the changed lock could wait until I had a big glass of sweet red coursing through my system. Glaring at the shitty door knob one last time, I slogged my way down the concrete steps and over the garden path to the garage door. All the fine hairs stood up on my neck when I saw the twin to the front door lock with an accompanying deadbolt barring my way.
I tried Lewis again. When his voicemail picked up right away, I left a terse message. “It’s Donna. I’m locked out of the house. Call me as soon as you get this.”
Thunder rumbled overhead and I shivered. Water had soaked through my sneakers and my socks were soggy. No one was out on our street so at least no one was witnessing my humiliation. Then again, it would be nice if one of my neighbors invited me out of the storm to wait.
I could sit in my car. The little silver Impala had heat. Or I could drive into town, maybe go to the coffee shop and wait for Lewis to turn on his damn phone. But my wine and bathtub were on the other side of those accursed locks. This was my home, damn it. My refuge from the world. Something I badly needed.
If I’d been younger, less stressed, or had less of a wonky brain, I might have made another decision. But I was cold and wet and sad and just done.
Fuck it, I would break into my own house.
The patio door that overlooked the backyard was a slider. The natural choice. It would be a pain in the ass to replace. But I’d spring for the double French doors I’d always wanted and Lewis would just have to suck up the cost.
Clutching my umbrella in one hand, I went to the paver walkway I’d started putting in a few months ago and hadn’t gotten around to finishing. The bricks were stacked in a heap and I snagged one off the top, knocking several others into a mud puddle. Because of the work that I did moving boxes and bins and furniture, I was stronger than I looked for a plus-sized middle-aged mom. A healthy shot of annoyance helped to fuel my throw. The brick sailed through the air like a missile and hit the sliding glass door dead center. Glass exploded inwards, pebbling the way it was supposed to do for the sake of safety instead of breaking into massive shards.
The alarm started blaring.
Pleased with the result, I hurried forward to shut it off. Once I punched in the code that let our security company know that all was well, I’d cover the hole. There should still be some plywood in the garage. I would just get it and drill it into the door frame….
My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when I spotted them. Lewis, pants around his ankles, was staring at me. As was the whip cream-covered tart who had her bare ass perched on my granite countertops.
We all just looked at each other for a long moment.
“Are you crazy?” Lewis’s thick dark eyebrows drew together as he broke the silence.
“My key didn’t work.” It was a stupid thing to say. To shout actually since the alarm was still going off.
The woman smirked at me. “And you didn’t take the hint?”
The sound of her voice, so familiar even though I had never met her in person, burst the surreal bubble. “So, this is what was so important, Lewis? This is what you had to do instead of spending the day with your son. You had to bang your frigging secretary in my frigging kitchen? What’s the rush, Lewis? The Viagra gonna wear off?”
Lewis flushed to his receding hairline and struggled to fasten his trousers even as he jabbed a finger at me. “It’s over, Donna. You might as well just leave.”
“Leave?” I stared at him blankly. “Why should I leave? This is my house. I decorated it. I picked out every stick of furniture and painting. I hand-selected every rug and curtain and unlike some people, I make sure mine always match.” This last was directed at the bottle blonde with a pointed look at her crotch.
She huffed and crossed her arms, opened her mouth to retort. I wasn’t interested in anything Mindy had to say. Especially when someone started pounding on the front door.
“Shit,” Lewis muttered and then headed for the hallway, tucking in his shirt as he went. The whip cream-covered tart reached for a purple halter dress and slid it on. I stood there, dripping on the pebbled glass, glaring daggers at her and feeling….
Old. Tired. But not even a little bit surprised. I’d seen the signs for months. The late nights at the office, the sudden business trips. The not-so-subtle ways he’d shut the door to his home office to make phone calls. Maybe other men were better at hiding their affairs, but not Lewis. Or maybe it was my wonky brain making me more aware of his emotions. In retrospect, I wondered if he’d wanted to be caught. Deep down we both knew he was a coward. He avoided conflict. Hell, the passive-aggressive little stain had changed the locks to my freaking house instead of admitting he didn’t want to be married any longer. I was the hothead, the ballbuster. The one with the temper who threw bricks.
There was a steady sound of beeping and then finally, the alarm shut off. My pulse pounded in my ears.
“That’s her,” Lewis said.
Glancing up I saw that he was pointing his stubby index finger at me. “She’s the one who broke in.”
My jaw dropped. “This is my house!”
The cops, two young men who didn’t appear much older than my son, exchanged a look. One picked up the brick. “Did you break this door, ma’am?”
Ma’am. Insult to injury. “Yes, but—”
“You’re coming with us,” the taller of the two said as his partner moved behind me.
“You have the right to remain silent.”
I was being read my rights. Handcuffs closed shut around my wrists. Holy hell, this was actually happening.
“Lewis,” I begged. “Tell them who I am!”
He folded his arms over his chest and said nothing. The smug little toad.
The rain had stopped by the time I was perp-marched out of my beloved home. All my neighbors were by their windows, watching as I was loaded into the back of a squad car and taken downtown.
****
I couldn’t hold a thought. Not when I was fingerprinted or when the admitting officer took my photo. Not when my purse was searched or when I was told to strip down out of my wet jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt and given a stiff polyester jumpsuit to change into.
“You get a phone call.” The bored-sounding female police officer—who had given me more action with a pat down than Lewis had in the last few years—informed me.
A phone call. Okay, that was good. Except, whom should I call? Bad enough that gossip would be spreading around our small mountain town that Lewis Allen had his crazy wife arrested. Who would not only bail my wrongfully detained hide from the clink but would help me find a place to stay?
There was only one name that came to mind. One person I knew who would show up in my hour of need. I really, really didn’t want to make that call. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year.
In the end, I didn’t have a choice.
“Yo,” a male voice answered the phone.
I rolled my eyes. “Is Bella there?”
“Who?”
I huffed out a breath. “Bella Sanders. This is her phone.”
“No way,” the guy said. “The Bella Sanders? The witch of Shadow Cove?”
“Just an ugly rumor,” I heard someone say.
“Snap.” The guy who was holding Bella’s phone and—thereby me—hostage said.
I gritted out. “May I speak to her, please?”
On the other end of the line there was the rustling of what I assumed were sheets. Where else would my sister keep Mr. Insightful but chained to her bed?
“Um, like, who’s calling?” he asked. I couldn’t place his accent. Southern, but not North Carolina. Maybe Texas?
Where did she find this mensa candidate? “Tell her it’s Donna.”
“Yo, hot stuff, you wanna talk to a Don?” The phone guy must be high.
“Donna,” I snarled.
“I’ve got it,” a familiar female voice murmured. “Hello?”
“It’s me.” The desk sergeant was giving me an impatient look. I had a bad feeling that he would announce time was up at any moment and march down the hall to take me to my cell.
“Well hello, sis. Nice of you to call.” Bella sounded the same way she always did. Slightly amused, and as though she harbored a mischievous secret.
I closed my eyes and forced the words out. “Listen, I need you to come down to the jail and bail me out.”
“Jail?” I could hear the smugness in her voice. “Virtuous little Donna in jail? What are you in for? Ripping tags off the mattresses?”
My teeth ground together. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” Bella purred.
“Time’s up,” the desk sergeant announced.
My knuckles turned white where they gripped the phone. “Bella, please. I have never asked you for anything since—" I cut myself off, not wanting to admit anything incriminating where we would be overheard. “Please I… need you.”
Silence on the other end. “Fine, I’ll be there when I can.”
“Thank you,” I breathed right before the desk sergeant snatched the phone out of my hands and hung it up.
I was the only person currently in lockup. My knee bounced up and down in my scratchy jumpsuit as I waited. The confrontation wouldn’t be pretty. It was definitely a toothpaste-in-the-hair kinda day.
I sensed Bella’s arrival before I saw her. It was a twin thing. Sharing our mother’s womb for eight and a half months forged a connection between us. One that’s damn near impossible to break.
Even though we were identical twins, Bella and I were night and day. I kept my black hair cut to my shoulders and had the white strands colored to hide my real age. As far as I knew, Bella’s never had a haircut. Her hair was so long she could sit on the mermaid tresses. The salt and pepper look had her aging gracefully and beautifully whereas I looked haggard and unkempt when my roots began to show.
Though we possessed the same small upturned nose, the same vivid green eyes, the same pale skin, and puffy pink lips, Bella’s features combined into a more sensual package. It’s something about the way she presented herself and commanded attention whenever she entered a room.
Or maybe it was her magic.
Ten seconds after my twin tingle activated, I saw the desk sergeant try to suck in his gut. Then I heard her voice, husky and melodic. “Is my sister here?”
“Yes, Ms. Sanders.” His gaze flitted down and I turned away so I didn’t have to see him drooling over her.
Some things never changed. Even with my wonky brain, I was the forgettable sister. The one who guys thought of as a buddy who could put in a good word with my sister when we were both in school. The one called on to run the homeowner’s association because I would not only take the thankless job seriously, I would make sure to bring nut-free, gluten-free, dairy-free treats for the Fourth of July block party because I’d had a last-minute impulsive need to up the ante. Better to overcompensate and put up a good front so no one knew I was defective. I may have been forty-five minutes late, but damn it, I came through in a big way.
Whereas Bella…well, no one had ever invited my sister to take charge of anything. Partly because she was an exotic butterfly that no one wanted to burden with pesky details. And partly because they believed the rumors about our family.
“Well well, how the mighty have fallen,” Bella murmured from behind me.
“What’s that supposed to…?” I trailed off as my gaze fell to her belly.
My sister was heavily pregnant.

Legacy Witches of Shadow Cove
1. Midlife Magic Mirror
2. Midlife Magic Monster
3. Midlife Magic Malady

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