No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series) by Rose Pressey Page B

window now?” He gestured over his shoulder.
    “ No, no. I’ll do it.” I knew when I’d been defeated. “But I have no idea where to even start.” I fidgeted, not quite sure what to do with my hands. How would I even begin this process? A ripple of panic rose in my throat at the thought.
    “ Obviously, you’ll need to talk with the victims.” Mr. Wibble pushed his eyeglasses up on the bridge of his nose and stared at me, waiting for a response.
    Victims. I loved his choice of words, as if I didn’t feel bad enough already.
    When I didn’t answer, he dropped the next bomb on me. “You have forty-eight hours to correct this problem.”
    “ What?” A pain rippled through my chest. “I have a time limit? There are movie marathons that last longer than that. This isn’t some game show. People’s lives are at stake.”
    “ Exactly.” He frowned. “That’s why time is of the essence.”
    “ How can I work under such pressure?” I asked.
    “ You should have thought of that before you were so careless with your magic.”
    Yeah, stupid me. “Look, in my defense, I wasn’t exactly trained very well.”
    “ This is the way it’s done. Most people don’t have a problem with it.” He waved his hands as if to tell me he’d heard enough.
    I continued, ignoring his gesture. “But some do? I’m not the only one who’s failed miserably?”
    “ No.” He shook his head. “No, you’re not the only one. But it doesn’t happen often.”
    “ Well, that’s good to know.” Maybe I could start a club for magical miserable failures. I’d be president.
    He stood, attempting to brush the wrinkles out of his jacket. “I should get going and let you get back to work. I have a case involving mistaken identity waiting for me a few towns over.” He glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the dessert case. “I hear you make a delicious pie. No offense, but it’ll be hard to beat your grandmother’s.” He licked his lips and patted his belly.
    Had he been here before? Tom had said they’d never had any problems with Mystic Café until now. It probably wasn’t unheard of for magical folks to visit other magical folks. Mr. Wibble had probably visited the café for grandma’s wonderful food.
    “ Would you like a slice to take with you?” Was pie a sufficient form of bribery? The answer to that question was probably no.
    “ Oh, well.” He smiled, an expression I didn’t think his face was capable of making. “If it isn’t too much trouble?”
    “ No, no trouble at all.” Maybe if I gave him the whole pastry display, he’d drop this entire issue. Somehow, I knew not to even ask.
    “ The blackberry looks good.” He pointed at the glass case.
    “ Excellent choice. It’s my favorite.” I reached for a container and plastic wrap, then covered up a slice of blackberry and placed the package in a bag.
    He clutched the pie in his chubby hands. “I’ll be back in forty-eight hours. Remember, I’ll close the café if the spell isn’t reversed by then.”
    Yeah, I’d heard him the first time, loud and clear.
    “ Just like her grandmother,” Mr. Wibble muttered as he shuffled toward the door.
    Tom frowned. “I’m very sorry. I hope you don’t blame me for this. He’s my boss, I couldn’t keep him away.”
    “ You’re just doing your job. I know it’s not your fault.” I placed the pie dish back into the display case. “What did he mean, I’m just like my grandmother?”
    He shook his head. “I have no idea. Mr. Wibble’s a bit eccentric.”
    “ I see that.”
    Tom squeezed my hand, his warm fingers tightened around mine. “Looks like you have some work to do.”
    I massaged my temples. “I know, but with taking care of the café, when will I have time to talk with Rory and Kim?” If I didn’t talk with them, though, it wouldn’t matter if I took care of the café or not. I let out a deep breath, but it did nothing to relieve the tension building up inside me.
    We watched as Mr.