Free Big Beautiful Witches: I Married A Warlock by Georgette St. Clair

apartment, or squatting in darkened warehouse buildings without electricity or running water, and her chest tightened with resentment as she climbed the broad marble steps.
    Manfred, the tuxedoed butler who’d worked for her family for ages and who never cracked a smile, ushered her in.
    As she headed to the dining room, she could hear her sister’s voice raised in protest. “I can’t eat another bite, mother. I really can’t.”
    Her mother was urging Delphine to eat? That couldn’t be right.  
    She walked into the dining room. Her father sat at the end of the massive dining table, in his usual pose; reading a newspaper, sipping his brandy, and completely ignoring his family.
    A white embroidered table runner ran down the center of the mahogany table, which was set with plates of porcelain hand painted in gold.
    Delphine sat miserably stirring a bowl of stew.   She did indeed look poorly; her normally rosy complexion was pale and sallow, she had circles under her eyes and Fiona thought it appeared as if she’d lost considerable weight; her clothes were draping loosely on her.
    “One more bite,” her mother urged.
    “Mother. Delphine. How are you?”
    Her mother started when Fiona walked in; Delphine managed a tired smile. “You came, Fiona! Thank you! I feel awful.”
    Desdemona’s gaze swiveled between the two of them, and Fiona’s hackles rose instinctively. Her mother was up to something.
    Her father glanced up at her. “Fiona. Hello,” he said absentmindedly, and went back to his reading.
    “Fiona, whatever are you doing here? You can’t simply drop by unannounced.” Her mother’s tone was querulous.
    “Since when?” Fiona raised an eyebrow.
    “Since…since you moved out and refuse to consider any decent marriage proposals, that’s when.” Desdemona pushed back her chair and stood up.
    “I haven’t received any decent marriage proposals.” Fiona folded her arms and fixed her mother with a steady glare. Her mother never tried to chase her off; quite the opposite, she was famous for following Fiona around, haranguing her continually about all of her poor lifestyle choices, until Fiona fled, and she didn’t stop haranguing until long after Fiona was gone.
    “Well, that’s simply not true, but you’ll need to run along. Your sister isn’t well.”
    “Delphine asked me to come.”
    “It’s not a good time.”
    “Because you’re so busy eating lunch?” Fiona quirked an eyebrow skeptically. Her mother was definitely up to something.
    “By the way, I heard from Maegera’s mother,” Desdemona scowled, changing the subject.   “She said that you’ve been making a fool of yourself pursuing Erik Bloodstone, and you really need to stay away from him before you become an utter laughingstock. She said Erik’s been complaining that you make him quite uncomfortable.”
    Fiona gasped,  and her mouth opened and shut several times before she could formulate words.  This was why she never came to visit;  her mother’s verbal jabs were like physical blows.
    Could Erik have really complained about her?  Was that possible? It couldn’t be.   Ever since he’d shown up, he’d been all over her. It made no sense that he’d say that she was chasing after him, making him uncomfortable.
    The only thing Fiona knew for sure was that Maegera’s mother seemed to be very eager to keep her and Erik apart.
    “I am absolutely not chasing after him,” she said, her voice shaking with anger.  “Erik is the one who’s been looking for me – which you know, because he said that he came by here and you told him you had no idea where I was. Which was a lie, of course. And Erik has hired me to be a consultant on a case.”
     “Ridiculous,” Desdemona snapped. “If he did that at all, it was out of pity.”
    Fiona felt the familiar tightening in her throat.   Her mother’s arguments made no sense but they always circled back to one central theme: Fiona was an embarrassment to the Rosewood