"I hear you talked to Logan this afternoon."
"Good grief, how did you hear so fast?"
"Shane told me a few minutes ago. He calls a lot."
Melody grinned. "Me, too. Sometimes, twice a day. I'm thinking Logan hasn't gotten his first phone bill yet."
Jessie chuckled. "Serves him right for leaving. I hope the bill tops a grand."
Melody pretended shock, but they broke down and laughed.
When her parents arrived, her father put a wrapped Christmas gift, about the size of a tie box, on the counter beside her. "That's for you."
"A little early for gift-giving, isn't it?" Melody said, more or less ignoring the gift.
"Though I'm happy to see it's too big to be a check." She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. "While I'm on the subject, I think this is as good a time as any to tell you to stop with the checks. No more. Nada. None. Not a nickel. Got that?"
Her father grinned. "You've ruined the surprise."
"What? This is a noncheck?"
"Sort of," her father said, rubbing his hands together, looking as anxious as a kid at Christmas. "Go ahead. Open it."
Melody rolled her eyes, but she did as he asked, though she didn't understand the papers she found in the box. She saw her name, though, beside an eight-figure dollar amount that floored her. "Wait a minute," she said, looking more closely. "This is some kind of trust fund. Daddy! You didn't! Damn it, I don't want your money. I'm not a ditz. I can earn my own living. I'm getting an awesome salary for
The Kitchen
Witch
show—"
"Shh, shh, Mellie," her father said, taking her into his arms, rocking her. "No, don't pull away. Listen to your old Dad for a minute, will you, and let me hug you for more than half that time for a change."
Melody lowered her brow to his shoulder and closed her eyes so he wouldn't see her tears. Once, just once, she wished he'd have some faith in her. "I'm listening."
"I won't be sending you any more checks," he said. "You are doing great on your own. You've proved you're smart and innovative, and to show you I believe it, I've started a charitable foundation in your name. For you to administer, I mean. In addition to your
Kitchen Witch
job, of course. You can give the earnings to whatever causes you choose, no questions asked, and the principal will keep earning more. Phyl and I have decided to continue supporting The Keep Me Foundation, in addition to whatever you do, but that's beside the point. I'm proud of you, Mellie. I believe in you."
Melody looked at her father, not quite comprehending.
"I… I love you, Mellie Pie. I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Sorry I never told you so before."
"Oh, Daddy." Melody didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how to say the words either, not to him. "It's not like the words are necessary… I mean, Mom never used them, either."
Her father raised his chin. "My fault, you know, the way she felt about us. I bought her, really. Lured her with money into marriage and motherhood, neither of which she wanted." He scoffed as he turned to look out the window. "You'd think I would have learned from that, but no." He turned back to her. "I kept making the same mistake with you. It took Phyl to show me where I went wrong. I…" He cleared his throat. "When you didn't want my money, I thought you didn't want my love."
"You were wrong, Daddy." She stepped into his arms again. Joy filled her, and yet, with his avowal of love had come a final truth—her mother never wanted her.
Melody had always known it, of course, but she had also thought she was like her mother. Now her father had proved her wrong. Her mother accepted money in place of love. Melody did not.
Perhaps, just perhaps, she was worthy of love.
After a successful Christmas dinner, two weeks early, Melody kissed Jess and her parents good-bye at the door. There she remained standing until Jess's porch light went out and her parents' Mercedes disappeared around the corner.
Her father loved her. Learning that had turned out to be as amazing as she had always imagined it would. A miracle. She turned on the landing and went up the stairs to sit at the top.
For the better part of her life, she'd dreamed of her father's love and approval, had thought it was all she'd ever want or need. She had been wrong about that, too.
What she needed to make her life complete, who she needed, lived hundreds of miles away. She, fool that she was, had let them go.
Too bad she hadn't known sooner that she was not a ditz and that she was—hard to believe—lovable. Her father loved her—imagine that. Shane loved her, Phyl, Jess.
And she was not like her mother; she would never marry for money. Love, she would marry for… if she ever married. Would she? The thought no longer seemed ludicrous.
A smart, lovable, loving woman might be able to offer a boy stability. A smart woman with a career and a once-in-a-lifetime-love might even become the marrying kind.
Melody sighed. Too bad she'd figured it all out so late. She leaned against the cold door, missing the sounds of life behind it, missing Logan and Shane. Mel, the ditz, would have gone after them, no second thoughts, no responsibilities holding her back, but the new Melody, Salem's Kitchen Witch, couldn't afford to screw up the best job she'd ever had.
She would have to find another way.
A few days later, Mel's latest show arrived in Chicago, express mail. Logan and Shane watched it the minute Logan got home.
Melody wore the sizzling electric blue wool dress she'd worn the night they made love, the one she'd worn to get his attention. It worked then. It worked now.
On the set, royal blue candles glowed softly amid potted ivy and mistletoe, and a small potted cedar that twinkled clear light. As Mel prepared a Yuletide brunch, she cast a spell on an artichoke and lemon souffle, so it would "rise as high as the stars,"
and when it fell flat, Logan chuckled at the look on her face.
"Apples," she said as she peeled one, "can divine your future mate or restore a relationship." She cut the fruit lengthwise and held it up to the cameras. "See how the seeds form a heart? An even number of seeds means marriage. There are six in this apple." Logan sat straighter as she followed that statement with a spell for unconditional love.
Her Honeycomb Pudding, Apple Fritters, and Rhode Island Johnnycakes all turned out great. When the show came to an end, she came around to the front of the island counter. "From all of us here at WHCH, I'd like to wish you and yours bright blessings and the longing in your hearts during this Yuletide season."
She picked up her wand. "I'd also like to end our Yuletide program with, not so much a spell as a wish, though I rather hope it works like a charm." She waved her wand in a series of graceful arcs.
"
I have a dream that's dear to me
,
A longing in my heart,
A little boy,
A man so tall,
Two cats called Ink and Spot."
"Da-aad…"
Logan hauled Shane onto his lap as Mel swirled her wand again.
"I
have a dream that's yet to be
,
A family made of three,
Come home to me,
I yearn to see,
You both beneath my tree."
The camera framed her, and as she finished, Melody looked at them with the longing in her heart, there, for the world to see, then she waved her wand and left the stage to the song Logan couldn't get out of his head.
"She wants
us
, Dad."
"I think she does, son."
What if she really is a witch
? Logan didn't care anymore.
Melody made magic all right—bright and alive, glittering, energizing magic—love, it was called. She had already given his son more love than his real mother could scrape together in a lifetime.
Jess had been right. He couldn't let the past ruin the future—his or his son's. Yes, Shane missed Melody, but Logan missed her more. He loved her… like crazy.
Crazy in love with Melody. That figured. He'd known all along that he'd have to be crazy to fall for her. Logan rose, taking Shane with him. "What say we go home?"
"To Mel?"
Logan nodded. If he hadn't known before, he knew now: Home and Mel were one and the same.
Logan called his mother to say they were coming, then he called Jess, because he wanted her to see how fast he could get a marriage license. She knew the answer already because she and the D.A. were getting one for themselves.
He was still smiling and booking their flight to Boston when he got a call-waiting, from a TV station in Rhode Island, offering a contract for a series of New England documentaries. He was shocked, amazed, flattered, and he would never be able to thank Mel enough. He set up an appointment with them the following week.
Melody had once told him that if he were happy, Shane would be happy, too. A shame, they'd all had to become so miserable before he discovered she was right.
"Now we have more than one reason to go home," he told Shane as they went to get their suitcases from the basement. "Though I don't suppose that even a new job is as important as telling Melody we love her and want her to marry us."
"Yes!"
"Guess that settles it, then."
When they arrived in Salem, Logan went straight to Jessie's, where a "For Sale by Owner" sign sat in front of her house. "How much for the house?" he asked as she opened the door.
Jess screeched when she saw them. "I'll make you a deal," she said, hugging them.
Logan raised a brow. "Make it as good as the deal you gave Mel on my Volvo, and you've got yourself a buyer."
Jessie chuckled, but her cheeks turned pink.
He'd always loved the house, and she knew it. She'd probably put the sign out this morning. "Keep the kid for a while, will you, you old meddler. Oh, and get your robes out of mothballs. Who did you say we have to see for a quick license and blood test in this town? I'm not waiting a minute longer than I have to."
"If Melody will have you," Jessie said on a wink. "She's not the marrying kind, remember?"
"What did you do, miss her last show? I think I can talk her into it." But Jess had a point. Melody could be stubborn sometimes. Then again, her Christmas wish had been clear. A family made of three, or four, Logan thought, anticipating the challenge of a future with Melody in it.
By the time he got to WHCH, she was in the middle of her Christmas show. Oh man, Santa's sexiest helper stood before the stove in red spikes and a red velvet miniskirted dress, trimmed in white fur, looking like something he'd seen in an old Christmas musical. A floppy red Santa witch hat crowned her lush, waving hair. A sight to soothe a longing heart.
Logan wanted to rush the stage, forget the show, and take her into his arms.
Instead, he stepped quietly into the wings to watch and wait for Melody to finish. He took in the Christmas set, where a beat-up old circus train circled a huge Victorian tree in the corner, trimmed in cranberries, popcorn, fruits, nuts, and cinnamon sticks.
Ruby candles—red for passion, Melody had once said—and matching poinsettias had been set about. Christmas scents assailed him, peppermint, cinnamon, cloves.
A perfect plum pudding dusted in confectioner's sugar and topped by a sprig of holly sat on the counter. Beside it sat a fruitcake and a cut-crystal dish of steaming cranberry sauce.
Melody cast a spell for harmony and good fortune, while she basted a Christmas goose as if she'd been born cooking… until she looked up and saw him standing there.
Startled, she squeaked, stumbled over the spell, and overshot the goose by a mile, damned-near basting a video-grapher, who tried to jump from the scalding liquid, only to trip and take his tripod down with him.
Logan ignored the resulting commotion, the waving director, the chuckling audience, while he held Melody's gaze, and she held his. She dropped the baster into the pan, forgot the goose, and met him halfway across the set.
Screw live TV
, Logan thought, as he stepped in front of the cameras, backed his sexy-as-hell witch up to the wall, and kissed her senseless.
Watching at home, Phyllis and Jessie high-fived each other. Shane shouted,
"Yes!" and jumped from his grandfather's lap. "Wait! I know that train."
On the show, as their reunion kiss lingered, the orchestra struck up a festive jingle-bell rendition of "Do You Believe in Magic?"
"I believe in magic," Logan said, loving the feel of her curves under velvet. "I'm holding her in my arms." He kissed her again. "I love you."
"Took you long enough to realize it."
"Like I'm the only one?"
Melody blushed. "I love you, too."
"Too bad you're not the marrying kind."
She toyed with a button on his shirt. "I… might have been mistaken about that."
Logan raised her chin, saw that her eyes were bright. "I got the feeling that you sort of… proposed… on your last show, but before you confirm or deny that wild assumption, you should know that I'm about to become an independent filmmaker, not exactly a steady job."
The smile she gave him could rival the sun. "That's all right," she said. "I have a steady job. You can provide the excitement in the family, and I'll provide the stability."
Logan grinned. "In that case, bewitch me, please, for as long as we both shall live?"
Melody unhooked her mike and tossed it. "Hell, yes," she said, "I love raising the devil," and she gave herself up to his kiss.
A roar of approval rose from the audience, and her candied yams came out perfect.