“This is the saddest surprise party I’ve ever been to.” My aunt got up from the bed and adjusted her skirt, her lipstick smeared. “Are y’all spying on me? Just what on earth is going on here?”

  My eyes adjusted, and I saw who she was with. So I started pointing my own finger. “I should be asking you the same thing. No wonder you’ve been acting suspicious lately.”

  “Said the girl who broke into my house with a pair of scissors… and just used her powers to fling me across the room. Marcie, you need to study that book.”

  George shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I refuse to believe it. The duffle bag would’ve been a better outcome. Your hookup is with Chris?”

  “Surprise,” George’s evil brother said.

  Chapter 14

  Misunderstood

  Aunt Mabel sat on the couch next to Chris, who was fidgeting with his cell phone, practically hanging off the edge of his seat, ready to head home as soon as he thought he had the go-ahead. And I hated him all over again.

  Because he made a million dollars an hour, Chris thought his time was more valuable than the rest of ours. And I guessed, since George and I had ruined his “evening time,” he was ready to move onto the next woman or the next case worth his precious million-dollar minutes. He had always been that way.

  Chris pulled a cigar from his front pocket and tapped it on his leg. No wonder he was ready to leave. My aunt didn’t allow smoking in her house. “So, another evil witch in the family?” he said to me.

  “No, just a misunderstood good one.” I nodded at George for confirmation. He turned away.

  “You have very strong powers,” Chris continued. He was a thinner version of George with concrete gray eyes, tough and unmoving. “Once you get control of them, we could use you at my company.”

  I stared blankly at him. I had no idea what that meant. “You mean at the law firm?”

  “Marcie’s not working for you,” my aunt said. She turned to me. “But honey, you do need to get control of those powers. You could hurt someone.”

  “Which might come in handy at times,” Chris said.

  “He’s joking,” my aunt interrupted. “Just read the book, and don’t work at any… law firms.”

  “Okay, I’ll read it,” I said, even though we both knew I wasn’t going to.

  “Look, I’m sorry I scared y’all,” my aunt said. She looked at George. “I didn’t mean to make you worried. I didn’t answer your texts because I didn’t want to have to explain things about Chris.”

  George pointed his eyes toward his brother while he whispered to my aunt. “We’ll talk about your fall from grace later when a certain evil someone isn’t around.”

  Aunt Mabel ignored him, smoothing down her disheveled hookup hair. “When Earl started harassing my business, Chris was the only lawyer I knew to call.”

  George gasped, suddenly getting it, like a man realizing he’d been replaced. “Was Chris the person you were texting the whole time we were shopping?”

  “Yes.”

  George cupped his hand over his mouth. “And he’s the reason you ignored me all night, had me so worried I couldn’t enjoy my Grand Slam…”

  “If it makes any difference,” Chris said. “I didn’t get to enjoy my Grand Slam either.”

  I stood up. When uncles start making sex jokes, it’s time to go. “Okie doke. Congratulations on getting back together. You make a lovely evil couple, if you are officially an evil couple, that is. I’ll be checking Facebook to see. This good witch is headed home.”

  George stood up. “I’m going home, too, but mostly because I’m disappointed, and I have a friendship to rethink.”

  “I’ll call you later,” my aunt said.

  “Don’t bother,” George replied on his way out.

  The Magical Matchmakers Club was quiet without George popping in all the time with takeout. My aunt spent the next couple days trying to pretend she didn’t care, but I could tell she was moping. At least we were getting a lot of work done, though, and I was happy to finally stop thinking about Earl’s case.

  I had no idea why I felt drawn to that in the first place. But whatever it was, it was over now. My aunt had a good lawyer, and I wasn’t needed.

  I looked up from the magic book I was reading. Tracey was posing by the front door, one hand on her head, the other on the hip that was jutting out at just the right angle. She was in a tight black miniskirt and long boots. Her blonde hair had cute highlights and bangs, and was styled.

  “Got my makeover,” she said.

  “You look amazing,” I said, walking over to her, jealousy creeping through my veins. I managed a smile. “You and Brandon are going to be the cutest couple this Friday at the Romance and Dance Dinner Cruise. The cutest. I want pictures.”

  I’d been a little nervous when I set that one up. But Brandon didn’t seem to know I knew about the beige car at all, or he hadn’t let on.

  “A dinner cruise?” he’d said when I’d called. “That’s a great idea. Thanks for making me look romantic.”

  I could almost hear the ding coming off his fake smile, so I clicked off the phone before I vomited into the cesspool of his charm.

  I didn’t tell Tracey the part about how I saw her hottie drive off in a stalker car. I also didn’t tell her that I was only setting her up with Brandon as a way to punish him for making me trust men again when I shouldn’t have. Plus, I wanted to keep tabs on him because he was on my suspect list now, and she was a horrible gossip so she’d dig up dirt without even trying. I wrung my hands together. I could hardly wait to pry her for more information later.

  I shook myself out of it. I had to get a handle on my evil. And, I didn’t need to concern myself with Earl’s case anymore.

  I grabbed my aunt’s humungous camera so I could get Tracey’s profile photo just as the door to the garage opened and Flootie and Helena walked in.

  They smiled when they saw Tracey. Nobody liked my aunt’s awful neighbor from the pale yellow house who told the police everything, but we all liked clients enough to fake a smile.

  “Tracey, right?” Flootie said. “Welcome to Magical Matchmaking.”

  “You look beautiful,” Helena added. “The High Priestess Special was a good choice. We’re going to include you in our finding-ceremony today. So get your photos taken. We’ll need them before we can get started on the spell that will determine what three men to fix you up with first.”

  Tracey turned her head to the side, confused.

  “I know. It sounds confusing.” Flootie motioned toward the kitchen. “It’s a whole magical process. I won’t bore you with the details, but the three witches in our club go into a deep meditation before we send out any profiles to you, and before we set up any dates. Meanwhile,” she said, heading to the kitchenette. Her shapeless dress clung to her thick curves. She opened the door and pulled out the same dark green bottle my aunt had given Dave and shook it. “You’re going to need this.”

  Tracey sat down on one of the sofas in the lounge area. “That’s great and all, but I’m going on my first date this Friday, remember? I’ve been matched up with someone named Brandon. You know, we’re going on a dinner cruise,” she said, like she expected the ladies to clue in. “The matchmaking club set it up.”

  Helena snapped her head toward me, her face a bright red. “What is she talking about?” She practically growled through gritted teeth, making me glad the woman did not have any natural powers.

  I set the camera down on my desk and tried to stand a little straighter. “I set her up. She came in the same day Brandon did. And I knew right away they’d be perfect for each other.”

  “You knew?” Helena continued. “You somehow knew? People pay money to have a magical match. From three witches, not from their nonmagical secretary. Clients pay for spells and potions.”

  “I was really just paying for a hottie,” Tracey said, standing up and heading toward the door. “And I got one, thanks to Marcie. That’s right. Your nonmagical secretary has a name.” She paused at the door and adjusted one of her long black boots. “So I suggest you start treating her with a little more respect or the whole nonmagical world might hear about it. I don’t like to gossip, but I will.”

  She left and I tried to hide my smile. I was starting to like the awful woman in the pale yellow house.

  Helena was not at all amused. “Did that woman just threaten me with gossip?”

  I shrugged. “Everyone has a superpower.”

  “And yours is messing stuff up. Didn’t your aunt tell you to study the manual? Look at the website? There is a process to our matchmaking.”

  “That’s enough,” Flootie interrupted. “I think you’re forgetting that everything happens for a reason. I’m sure Marcie did not set this couple up maliciously, so there can be no bad energy here. No bad outcomes.”

  “Yeah,” I said, like the misunderstood good witch I was. “No bad energy here.”

  I could hear Helena through the door to the main house, telling my aunt what I’d done, saying that she knew hiring me was going to be a bad idea. “Our secretary made a nonmagical match.”

  Secretary. Like this was 1983 or something.

  I tried to ignore them as I skimmed through my powers book. It was actually very boring stuff, full of flowery language about love for the earth and how to make it better.

  After looking around, I plopped the first section over so I could see the one about evil witches, not that I thought I was one. But it had to be more interesting than the daisies and lollipops going on in the first half.

  In order to find their place in the universe, most naturally evil witches instinctively feel the need to right the wrongs in life, especially when those wrongs involve people the world would otherwise look down on. In other words, other evil ones.

  I closed the book again. What the hell?

  I thought about Earl. Maybe that was why I’d been drawn to his case. He’d been a horrible person. My least favorite kind of horrible person too. A misogynist jerk who called people hussies and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

  He also didn’t deserve what he got.

  I was back to wanting to go to his funeral the next day, in a new outfit.

  I texted George. He was happy to help me pick out a black dress on my lunch break for Earl’s funeral. “I love HONEST people who don’t ignore my texts and make me so worried I can’t eat my Denny’s.”

  I knew he wanted me to show his reply text to my aunt, so that was exactly what I did when she came back into the converted office.

  “He’s hurt,” she said.

  “Yep,” I replied. “And disappointed. George took your side in that messy divorce and now he feels betrayed.”

  She pulled on her dangly necklace and went back into the main house. My plan had worked. She’d felt so guilty about George she’d forgotten to lecture me about my nonmagical matchmaking.

  When George texted that he was here to pick me up, my aunt kissed my cheek. “Tell George I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll try.” We both knew it wasn’t going to work. George basically chose Aunt Mabel over his own brother in the divorce. And now, he felt like an only child.

  George was waiting in his Prius, his nose in the air, probably in case Aunt Mabel followed me out.

  I almost tripped on nothing when I noticed a beige sedan up the street from us.

  I got George’s attention and pointed to it. His eyes widened, but he waited to gasp until I got in. “Is that the same car you told me about before? The one that followed your aunt? Not that I care.”

  “I don’t know, but let’s find out.”

  George shook his head so hard his perfectly combed thick white hair almost moved. “Are you insane? We could be dealing with dangerous people here.”

  “We’re both witches. What do we care?”

  “You didn’t read the book, did you? There are consequences for using powers on innocents. On anyone. You have to think of an indirect way to get the outcome you want.”

  I raised my hand to stop the lecture. “Just pull up and around and we’ll see if it’s the sedan from before.”

  He turned his Prius off. “I absolutely 100 percent refuse. Someone has to make good choices around here. These people could have guns.”

  I groaned my frustration.

  “I didn’t want to believe it when Megan told me you were playing Nancy Drew. But now I think I know why you want to go to Earl’s funeral tomorrow.”

  I kicked my ballet flats into George’s spotless floor mats. The same mats I kicked around the day George drove me home from the hospital when Violet was born. Mark was too busy with his fantasy football draft to do it, actually suggesting that I ask the hospital to change the time. That should’ve been the first red flag that things were headed downhill in my marriage. George didn’t mind stepping in. He never minded. He’s always been there holding my hand, more of an uncle than any of my aunt’s actual husbands, and more of a dad than my own ever was.

  I kissed him on his stubbly chubby cheek. “You know, the real Nancy Drew had a friend named George. What do you say? Be my George and go with me to the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Now it’s official. You’re insane. I didn’t like that man when he was alive, and my feelings about horrible people don’t change on a desperate whim, unlike certain other people who shall remain nameless. And, of course, I’m talking about your aunt.”

  I looked over at Earl’s house. His lawn was already starting to dry up in the drought that had been plaguing Southern California this last summer. I knew that man had been watering more than he was legally allowed to, which for San Diegans right now was twice a week; I looked it up. I also noticed the police tape was gone. “I’ve got a better idea. This one’ll be fun, and you owe me.”

  “I owe you nothing,” he said.

  I reminded him about the early morning surprise party we just threw for my aunt, and he reluctantly agreed he owed me, which he was okay with so long as it didn’t involve going to a funeral or chasing a car full of guns. He had no idea what kind of crazy favor I was about to ask him for, though.

  I looked up. The beige sedan was gone, and I hadn’t gotten its plates again, not that I’d know what to do with that information if I actually got it.

  “I need you to help me find a bunker,” I said, receiving just the “you’re crazy” scowl I was expecting.

  Chapter 15

  Righting Wrongs

  George brushed dirt off his designer shoes for the fifth time and threw me another “disappointed dad” look. I tried not to catch it. I had my own problems to deal with. I’d just stepped in cat poop and I was pretty sure I heard something slithering in the overgrown grass that covered Earl’s backyard.

  An overhanging branch of a large tree tickled George’s neck as he walked by it, and he almost tripped trying to run away from nothing. “Remind me again why we’re doing this? We’re probably going to get ticks. Or bitten by rattlesnakes. Or worse, noticed. How are we going to explain this to the awful woman in the pale yellow house?”

  “We won’t get caught. Just look for the bunker.”

  “The bunker. Because, apparently, we’re in World War One together.”

  “You know, a bomb shelter. I’m pretty sure there’s one in Earl’s backyard. I’m pretty sure there’s one in every prepper’s backyard.”

  George swatted a couple of flies away as he ducked under a trellis full of overgrown bougainvillea. “Honestly, the things you talk me into doing. I don’t even know what a bunker opening looks like.”

  “Neither do I,” I admitted.

  “So let me get this straight,” George said as he pushed the branches of a bush to the side, and checked underneath it. His hand barely touched anything. “Instead of getting a fabulous new dress on your lunch break and maybe a little Starbucks, we’re going to spend the entire time checking through a filthy backyard for something neither of us is going to know if we find? Madam, you are no Nancy Drew.”

  He had a point. I looked down at my one good pair of go-to ballet flats that were now covered in dirt. “You’re right. Maybe I’m avoiding buying the dress so I’ll have a reason not to go to the funeral tomorrow. I haven’t been to a funeral since… you know, my mom’s.” Even though I tried to stop it from happening, my nose got all stuffy and my eyes started watering. It wasn’t even menopause this time. It happened a lot when I thought about my mom.

  George put his arm around me. “Oh kiddo, you don’t need to do this. As evil as my brother is, he’s a good lawyer. It’s funny how evil people always seem to go into that profession. So if you’re worried about your aunt being a suspect in this, don’t be. She’ll be fine.”

  I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my cardigan, and pulled a twig out of my hair. “That’s the funniest part. I know my aunt will be fine. I think I’m doing this for Earl now.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Mr. Baseball Bat?”

  “Yes. I just keep thinking about how he threw down the hose when I told him I was calling the water department, about how he called the home owner’s association when Aunt Mabel’s business wasn’t up to code. Earl was a jerk. But he was a rule-following, law-abiding jerk.”

  “In other words, you don’t think he swindled the money.”

  “Nope. And I think he deserves to have his name cleared of that, at least.”

  “You know,” George said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t do it. Good people do bad things sometimes.”

  “Yeah. And bad people do good things sometimes too.” I told him about the book Aunt Mabel gave me and the part where it said I would instinctively try to find my place in the universe by using my evil powers to right wrongs. “Do you think that’s why I’m doing this?”

  He shrugged. “That probably has a lot to do with it, all right.” He scraped the bottom of his shoe off on a nearby tree stump as he talked. “Your mom was a very good good-witch. I should know. I’m a wonderful good-witch myself, but she was even better than me. You probably know you’re not supposed to get caught using your powers. It’s okay if it doesn’t look like magic.”