Magical Influence Book One (29 page)

One look at the grey clouds gathering
above suggested her mood was about to get worse. She’d dressed for
the summer's day promised by the weatherman last night, but he’d
neglected to mention there would be a storm thrown into the
mix.

As she rounded a corner and came out
onto Main Street, she ducked to the side to avoid two burly men
moving a large couch through the front doors of the furniture
store.

One of them asked whether she was in a
hurry, but she didn't have the time to stop and reply: hell yes,
she was in a hurry.

She’d been planning on getting to work
early today, so she could leave early and head over to her sister's
for dinner. It wasn't every day Marcia Gosling invited her over for
tea. Henrietta and her sister weren't on the best of terms. Marcia
was a drop-dead gorgeous, knock-out bombshell, and Henrietta was
average, and only if she bothered to put the effort into brushing
her unruly hair and ironing her unkempt clothes.

Their difference in looks didn't
account for the two sisters’ less-than-perfect relationship. That
had to do with the fact Marcia had stolen every single boyfriend
Henrietta had ever had. First was Mark in sixth grade. Minutes
after Henrietta had kissed him behind the gym, Marcia had gone in
and kissed him in full view of everyone in the yard. Then there’d
been Richard in high school. About a day after Richard had asked
her to the dance, Henrietta had seen Marcia walk through the mall
with him wearing the man like a handbag as he hung off her arm and
gawked at her.

Then... then there was John. John had
hurt. John had been Henrietta's boyfriend during her brief
flirtation with college. John had been studying engineering. John
had already bought himself a house at the tender age of 20. John
had prospects, John had intelligence, John had wit, and John had
adorable floppy hair. Several months after meeting Marcia for the
first time, Henrietta had come home to the crushing view of the two
of them on the couch.

Marcia was that callous, she was that
forward, and she was that uncaring. To Marcia it had meant nothing
that she’d stolen Henrietta's boyfriend. To Marcia, you couldn't
take flings seriously, and if you couldn't take them seriously,
then what right did Henrietta have to get upset over
them?

Still, Marcia was family. That meant
Henrietta had to go over for dinner tonight. Considering who Marcia
was, it also meant Henrietta had to stop by the fancy delicatessen
on the high street and get some fresh, new, white freesias. She
would also have to trek all the way across town to get the finest
bottle of champagne she could afford.

Now that Henrietta was late, it meant
she would have to stay back at the cafe and make up her hours. It
also meant she would be late for Marcia's. Marcia would blow a
gasket. No, Marcia would do more than that, Marcia would have a
full-on shouting match with Henrietta on the porch, and then hop
online to tell all of her friends what a beast Henrietta
was.

Unfortunately, Marcia was still
family.

Henrietta put on a burst of speed,
trying to catch the pedestrian light before it flicked to red. She
didn't make it. When she considered jaywalking – running across the
street and taking her chance with the cars – there was a gruff
laugh by her side.

“I know you're late, Henrietta, but I
have to point out that breaking the law in front of a policeman is
never a good idea.”

She turned to see Patrick. Patrick
Black. The same Patrick Black who had dated Marcia for an entire
three months, which was Marcia's world record for the duration of
any relationship.

Patrick Black was tall, handsome, and
had the kind of build that could reassure any woman. He was also
courteous, and had one of those perfect smiles that made you think
he’d practiced for hours and hours in front of the mirror as a
teenager.

“How’s your sister?”

She forced her lips to play nice, and
she offered Patrick a controlled smile. “Oh, you know, Marcia is
always Marcia.”

She waited. There was only one
question Patrick would ask next. It was the same question he always
asked.

His eyes twinkling as if they were
backlit or someone had forced stardust into his pupils, and he
widened his smile. His eyes narrowed in interest.

“No, she isn't seeing anyone,” she got
there first.

“Oh, ah, how did you know...?” He
patted down his hair.

Basic experience with the male race,
she wanted to answer. Instead she put all her effort into
maintaining a smile. She’d lied to a police officer. Whilst Marcia
wasn't seeing anyone seriously, she was seeing men. Yes, men – more
than one – because Marcia tended to play the field all at once. To
her, the idea of having one boyfriend at any given time was boring.
Why juggle with one pin, when you can juggle with 10?

“So, how is—” he began.

Once again she got there first. “Dad’s
fine, so is Mum.”

Patrick gave a light chuckle, his brow
crumpling in a wince. “Am I that predictable?”

Something beeped, and she turned to
see the pedestrian light flashing green. She turned back to
Patrick, shrugged, gestured wide, and nodded. “Sorry, Patrick, but
one of these days you'll have to ask me about quantum physics or
how my pot plants are, to break the mold.”

With that, Henrietta Gosling walked
across the street, leaving the confused Patrick Black to figure out
what she'd said.

When she made it through the beautiful
sanded-down, rustic doors of Sizzle Cafe, it was already 9:35 AM.
The second her soft ballet shoes padded onto the polished
floorboards, was the second the cafe's owner, the diminutive Maria,
came whirling out of the backroom, her teeth clenched as she
grappled with the string of white pearls around her
neck.

It was never a good sign when Maria
was manhandling her favorite pearls.

Henrietta gave her most apologetic
grimace as Maria rounded on her.

“Late again.” Maria shook her head.
“If you weren't the best barista I have, Henrietta, I would have
fired you yesterday. Now put your bag down, get your apron on, and
get to work.”

Henrietta nodded and ran for the back
room before Maria could give her another serving.

Minutes later she set herself up
behind the whopping imported Italian coffee machine. Tying her
apron around her middle, she looked up and through the massive
plate-glass windows at the front of the store. The sky was now
clear.

Her lips twitched into a thin frown.
When she’d run to work this morning, the sky had been spitting and
the wind roaring. Now the sky was clear, the wind gone, and the sun
bright and warm.

It figured. Henrietta was an unlucky
girl.

It wasn't until 12:30 that anything
interesting happened that day. As she made an espresso for the Fire
Chief, she looked up to see a man entering the store.

Just before she looked up, she felt a
peculiar tingling sensation prickle the skin on the back of her
neck. It was slight, it was sudden, and it was quick. It was over
in the blink of an eye, but it served its purpose; she looked up at
the right moment.

The stranger by the door flashed her a
smile. It wasn't a dashing smile, it wasn't the kind of smile
Patrick Black had practiced in front of the mirror. No, it was
awkward, crinkled, and graceless.

Blinking, she surveyed him. It was
impossible to guess his age or race. He could have been anywhere
from 20 to 40. He had the kind of face that looked as though it
never aged, but that couldn't be said for his clothes. He was under
6 foot, but his clothes had been made for a man twice his size.
They hung off him in great swathes of calico and cotton, the style
reminiscent of a monk’s tunic and pants. Over the top was a
full-length leather jacket.

He looked like someone out of a movie,
maybe a vampire hunter or something as ridiculous, except one
wearing hand-me-down clothes from a giant.

He had a wide, large face, and that
was about all that could be said for it. His features were
nondescript. He didn't have the kind of handsome face that would
set him apart from the crowd, in fact he didn't have any feature
that was worth noting at all. He looked normal. He had a nose, drab
brown eyes, and far too much stubble collecting over his chin and
top lip.

He looked out of place, and he knew
it. He kept shooting nervous glances to his left and right, as if
expecting the tables to rise up and eat him.

It took ten seconds for the man to
take another hesitant step into the room, and it wasn't until he
took a breath, thumbing his nose and loosening his shoulders with a
shake, that he appeared to calm.

Henrietta yanked her hand back as the
hot water she was using to clean the coffee machine spilled out and
splashed over her.

It forced her to look down, and when
she looked up, using her apron to dry her hand, the guy wasn't
there anymore.

He hadn't disappeared in a flash of
smoke or anything so fantastic. He had wandered off to the
bathroom.

He wandered back out again several
minutes later and then left.

Weird people walked off the street all
the time, but this guy caught her imagination, and she craned her
neck to watch him as he strode across the street
outside.

“Henrietta, hello,
Henrietta.”

She blinked, snapped her head forward,
and realized she was ignoring one of the customers. Except this
wasn't any old customer. This wasn't any ordinary man. It was Jimmy
Field, the hottest man in the whole city. He was strapping, he was
handsome, and he had the kind of body that looked fantastic when
covered in oil. He was always December when it came to the nude
calendar the fire station did each year for charity. Though by
nude, you never saw anything; there were hoses and fire hats in the
way. Still, Jimmy Field was Mr December. He was also dating Marcia.
Though Marcia was also dating about nine other men, Henrietta knew
her sister was proud of the fact she’d gotten the attention of Mr
December.

Jimmy turned around in his chair to
check where Henrietta had been staring off to.

She squeaked. “Oh, sorry, nothing, a
bird caught my eye.” A bird caught her eye? What kind of excuse was
that?

Jimmy nodded, as if birds caught his
eye all the time... which they did, but only if bird was being used
as a euphemism for women.

He grinned.

She knew what was coming next. As
Jimmy opened his mouth, she got there first. “She is fine. So is
mum and so is dad.”

Jimmy got the same confused look
Patrick had that morning. “How did you know what I was going to
say?”

She shrugged and tried to look
affable. It was best not to tell him he was as predictable as one
of Marcia’s ridiculous romance novels.

“All right, what am I going to say
next then?” Jimmy waggled his eyebrows.

Henrietta paused and glanced around
the room, trying to look mystical. “Jimmy Field, you are about to
say: here, have a tip.”

He laughed, reached into his pocket,
and grabbed a piece of gum, offering it to her. “Here, Henrietta,
have a tip.”

She accepted the gum, but arched an
eyebrow. “Jimmy, this is not a Home Alone movie. In the real world,
we use money.”

He shrugged, his tan, muscular arms
peeping out from under his tight and sooty white t-shirt. “Sorry,
Henny, but I don't have any coins.”

She took the gum and put it into the
pocket of her apron then she watched as Jimmy brought out his
mobile and proceeded to call her sister, planning a date for the
weekend.

Whilst Marcia would get to enjoy the
hottest fireman in town, Henrietta would spend her weekend cleaning
out her woodshed. Some things weren't fair. Especially where
Henrietta was concerned.

She didn't have long to mull over her
bad luck. It was then that she took a quick break to go to the
bathroom.

A funny thing happened while Henrietta
was in the bathroom. The door caught fire.

The End of Enchanted Writes Book
One Chapter One.

For more information on the
Enchanted Writes Series, please visit my
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