“Anything you want.”

“Anything? I’ll make a list. And the number one thing will be for me to demonstrate my persuasion knack for you.” Jupe squinted one eye shut and wiggled his fingers dramatically, like he was a stage magician using fake mind powers.

“Absolutely not,” Lon said.

“But they’ve only heard about it. I want to show them.”

“No, you want to show off,” Adella said. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Listen to your auntie.” Lon smiled at Adella and reached to hug her, arms loosely encircling her. She mumbled something against his ear; he kissed her on the forehead in response. They were casual and comfortable around each other. Affectionate. I never saw Lon act that way with anyone but me and Jupe. Never. It made me wonder how Lon and Yvonne acted when they were together. And that thought made me a little nauseous.

“Wait, where’s—” Jupe’s gaze found mine before I could sneak upstairs. “Cady! Com’ere, com’ere!”

All faces looked my way. My stomach dropped three stories. Nothing I could do now.

Jupe strode to my side and tugged me into the middle of everything. My hair was sweaty around my nape. My jacket had dirty streaks on the sleeve from rolling around on the ground at the racetrack. And my eyes were red and puffy from crying. I’m sure I made a great first impression.

“Everybody, this . . . is Cady.”

Jupe said my name like it was fifty feet high and studded in lights, but the reception was decidedly mixed. Rose stared at me without saying a word. Adella stepped forward and offered her hand. “So good to finally meet you.” She sandwiched my hand between both of hers and gave me a sweet smile.

“You, too,” I said. “Jupe talks about you—”

“Constantly?” she guessed. “Because I get weekly updates about you. ‘Cady this. Cady that.’ ”

Jupe almost looked embarrassed, but he really didn’t have it in him to be shy. “You told me I talk about movies too much, so what else am I going to say? Geez.”

She winked at him. “Anything you tell me, I’m happy to hear. Besides, I talk about art all the time.”

I remembered that Adella taught art history at the University of Portland. “Is the semester done? All your classes, I mean.”

“Yes, thank goodness. Finals graded, and all my meetings finished. The students fled the campus yesterday like they were outrunning a tornado.”

At thirty-five, Adella was ten years older than me, and a handful of years younger than her sister, Yvonne (who was in her early forties, like Lon). She had a kind face. In other circumstances, I would’ve liked her immediately. And I did, but it was tainted with self-doubt and worry that she wouldn’t accept me, despite how nice she was being. Looking at her mother, that worrisome feeling intensified.

“And this is my Gramma,” Jupe said proudly.

Rose Giovanni didn’t offer her hand. Just coolly looked me over, eyes blinking rapidly. For every inch of my body she examined, I think I shrank two. She might be the demon, but I certainly felt like the devil in the room.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, wondering if I should add “ma’am.” Or would that be insulting? Better play it safe and keep my mouth shut.

She stared above my head. “There’s that silver halo we’ve heard about.”

“Yes.”

“A real live witch, huh?”

“Magician,” I corrected.

She made a little I’m-not-impressed noise, then glanced at the dirt streaks on my sleeve.

I looked down at them as well. “It’s . . . been a bad night.”

“Oh?” She pushed metal-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose with one polished nail, then turned to Lon and lifted a brow. “What happened?”

Great. She’d officially cut me out of the conversation.

“Cady’s bar got robbed earlier this week,” Lon said.

“Oh dear,” she said. “A dangerous business, I’m sure. Open all night, attracting the wrong element. Like owning a liquor store.”

A mild spark of irritation pushed away my initial self-consciousness. “We’re open until two, and we’ve never been robbed before.”

“Tambuku is the most awesome bar in Morella, Gramma,” Jupe said.

“I’d love to see it,” Adella said. “I teach a class on Polynesian art every summer.”

I didn’t think our Tahiti Tropicana pinball machine was going to impress her, but at least she was being nice. I started to answer her, but Rose cut me off. “There’s nothing ‘awesome’ about a bar, Jupiter. Drinking leads to misery.”

Somewhere behind me Lon mumbled, “Christ, I think I need a drink right now.”

“It’s not like that,” Jupe protested. “Right Cady?”

“Bartending isn’t a respectable profession,” Rose said.

I’d never felt ashamed about what I did for a living, and I wasn’t about to start now. If this woman was trying to take me down a few notches, she’d have to try a little harder. “I’m a good bartender. I police my bar and stay aware of how much I’m serving people. When a patron’s crossed the line, I cut them off and call a cab.”

“But you still serve them, don’t you? And just because they get in a cab doesn’t mean they don’t go somewhere else and do stupid things. No good comes from drink.”