better idea?’’
‘‘I do.’’ Dorcas patted her pocket. ‘‘Chocolate-covered espresso beans.’’
‘‘You’re kidding.’’
‘‘Nope.’’
‘‘You’re seriously planning to give high-octane caffeine to a two-thousand-pound dragon who’s ADD?’’
‘‘Ambrose, he’s not ADD. He uses that as an excuse, and you know it. George is just lazy and a little immature.’’
‘‘In that case, my quotes are exactly what he needs.’’ Ambrose unzipped his jacket, took out the journal and opened it to the first page. ‘‘The early bird gets the—’’
‘‘The early bird gets the chocolate-covered espresso beans. You won’t win points with George by pushing worms, my love. Now, wheel that red monstrosity down the steps and let’s do this. Otherwise we’ll be late, and that’s a poor example to set.’’
‘‘Right.’’ Ambrose grabbed the handlebars. Then he paused. ‘‘Do you think Sabrina wants to come?’’
‘‘Probably not. She’s sleeping.’’ Sabrina was tired from her big adventure this morning, but Dorcas didn’t want to mention that just now.
‘‘Then let’s go.’’ Ambrose started the engine.
With a grimace of resignation, Dorcas climbed on behind him.
‘‘I stopped at Click-or-Treat this morning,’’ Ambrose said as they putt-putted down the bumpy sidewalk and onto the street.
Dorcas leaned closer so she could hear him. ‘‘And how’s Jeremy?’’
‘‘Walking and talking like an alpha male. Annie’s article with his picture that showed up in the Tribune this morning didn’t faze him a bit. He accepted all the fanfare coming his way as if he was used to it.’’
‘‘Excellent.’’ Dorcas was glad the spell had worked. She’d been a little concerned about allowing Jeremy down in the basement during the circle ceremony, but that’s what the spell book had called for, so they’d risked it. ‘‘Does he remember anything about last night?’’
‘‘Not much. He asked me if I liked Frankie Avalon, so he might have registered that we were playing ‘Venus’ on the stereo.’’
Dorcas groaned. Ambrose had a thing for that song and insisted on playing it whenever they worked a matchmaking spell. Sabrina aided and abetted by dancing the cha-cha with him as they circled the cauldron.
‘‘I don’t think it’s a problem,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘He was pretty fuzzy headed by the time we took him to the basement.’’
‘‘True. You do make great Irish coffee.’’ Dorcas waved as Sean Madigan drove past in his truck. No doubt he was heading to their house to take Maggie out to lunch.
‘‘Jeremy didn’t think he’d learned any magic, though,’’ Ambrose continued, ‘‘so I demonstrated that he could do a coin trick and manifest a red rose if he said abracadabra .’’
‘‘I still say we shouldn’t have used that old cliché. Nobody says abracadabra anymore.’’
‘‘Not in our crowd, but it sounds right to a guy like Jeremy. He tried to analyze the tricks, but I managed to convince him it was an intuitive thing and analyzing would screw him up.’’
‘‘Good thinking.’’ Dorcas hung on to Ambrose as he braked to a stop and allowed Clara Loudermilk to cross the street in front of them.
It was obviously Clara’s day at the Bob and Weave Hair Salon, because a purple cape covered her ample bosom, her hair was wrapped in foil and she carried her Chihuahua, named Bud, in her arms. Clara was too impatient to wait at the salon while her hair color processed, so she ran errands while the dye worked its magic.
‘‘Good morning, Clara,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Good morning, Bud.’’
Bud, of course, started frantically barking. Bud barked at everything.
Clara eyed them with suspicion. ‘‘I think that scooter upsets Bud. I’ve noticed he’s very sensitive to the color red.’’ Tucking the squirming dog under her arm, Clara marched across the street.
‘‘Nice to see you both,’’ Ambrose called after
‘‘I do.’’ Dorcas patted her pocket. ‘‘Chocolate-covered espresso beans.’’
‘‘You’re kidding.’’
‘‘Nope.’’
‘‘You’re seriously planning to give high-octane caffeine to a two-thousand-pound dragon who’s ADD?’’
‘‘Ambrose, he’s not ADD. He uses that as an excuse, and you know it. George is just lazy and a little immature.’’
‘‘In that case, my quotes are exactly what he needs.’’ Ambrose unzipped his jacket, took out the journal and opened it to the first page. ‘‘The early bird gets the—’’
‘‘The early bird gets the chocolate-covered espresso beans. You won’t win points with George by pushing worms, my love. Now, wheel that red monstrosity down the steps and let’s do this. Otherwise we’ll be late, and that’s a poor example to set.’’
‘‘Right.’’ Ambrose grabbed the handlebars. Then he paused. ‘‘Do you think Sabrina wants to come?’’
‘‘Probably not. She’s sleeping.’’ Sabrina was tired from her big adventure this morning, but Dorcas didn’t want to mention that just now.
‘‘Then let’s go.’’ Ambrose started the engine.
With a grimace of resignation, Dorcas climbed on behind him.
‘‘I stopped at Click-or-Treat this morning,’’ Ambrose said as they putt-putted down the bumpy sidewalk and onto the street.
Dorcas leaned closer so she could hear him. ‘‘And how’s Jeremy?’’
‘‘Walking and talking like an alpha male. Annie’s article with his picture that showed up in the Tribune this morning didn’t faze him a bit. He accepted all the fanfare coming his way as if he was used to it.’’
‘‘Excellent.’’ Dorcas was glad the spell had worked. She’d been a little concerned about allowing Jeremy down in the basement during the circle ceremony, but that’s what the spell book had called for, so they’d risked it. ‘‘Does he remember anything about last night?’’
‘‘Not much. He asked me if I liked Frankie Avalon, so he might have registered that we were playing ‘Venus’ on the stereo.’’
Dorcas groaned. Ambrose had a thing for that song and insisted on playing it whenever they worked a matchmaking spell. Sabrina aided and abetted by dancing the cha-cha with him as they circled the cauldron.
‘‘I don’t think it’s a problem,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘He was pretty fuzzy headed by the time we took him to the basement.’’
‘‘True. You do make great Irish coffee.’’ Dorcas waved as Sean Madigan drove past in his truck. No doubt he was heading to their house to take Maggie out to lunch.
‘‘Jeremy didn’t think he’d learned any magic, though,’’ Ambrose continued, ‘‘so I demonstrated that he could do a coin trick and manifest a red rose if he said abracadabra .’’
‘‘I still say we shouldn’t have used that old cliché. Nobody says abracadabra anymore.’’
‘‘Not in our crowd, but it sounds right to a guy like Jeremy. He tried to analyze the tricks, but I managed to convince him it was an intuitive thing and analyzing would screw him up.’’
‘‘Good thinking.’’ Dorcas hung on to Ambrose as he braked to a stop and allowed Clara Loudermilk to cross the street in front of them.
It was obviously Clara’s day at the Bob and Weave Hair Salon, because a purple cape covered her ample bosom, her hair was wrapped in foil and she carried her Chihuahua, named Bud, in her arms. Clara was too impatient to wait at the salon while her hair color processed, so she ran errands while the dye worked its magic.
‘‘Good morning, Clara,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Good morning, Bud.’’
Bud, of course, started frantically barking. Bud barked at everything.
Clara eyed them with suspicion. ‘‘I think that scooter upsets Bud. I’ve noticed he’s very sensitive to the color red.’’ Tucking the squirming dog under her arm, Clara marched across the street.
‘‘Nice to see you both,’’ Ambrose called after
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