Free Bedroom Eyes by Hailey North Page B

oatmeal.”
    “Sure.” Penelope did have a box of Quaker Instant in her cupboard. Every so often she tried to force herself to eat some, thinking she’d better offset all the rich creams and sauces she loved to devise in the kitchen. So she’d pick up a box with the rest of her groceries, then let it sit at the back of the cupboard until it was so stale she felt compelled to toss it out.
    Oatmeal reminded her too much of her childhood.
    “And raisins?”
    “No raisins.” She wrinkled her nose. Her mother had sprinkled raisins on Penelope’s morning oatmeal, telling her they made good brain food. Her mother had been so set on Penelope’s success, Penelope sometimes thought it was a miracle she’d turned out as well as she had. Most kids, she reflected every so often, would have revolted completely.
    “Raisins equal sadness?” Mrs. Merlin spoke softly.
    Surprised, Penelope nodded. “You’re very perceptive. But I suppose you know that.”
    Mrs. Merlin laughed, a tinkly sound that brought to mind chimes shifting in the breeze. “Oh, I work hard at what I do. For my grandmother, you see, these skills came so easily.” She sighed and sat down on the edge of the napkin holder. “But I have to practice, practice, practice to get things right. And even then—”
    “Don’t tell me,” Penelope said. “Things somehow still get all mixed up.”
    Mrs. Merlin cupped her chin in her hand. “As soon as you make that oatmeal, we need to talk about how you’re going to help me out of this little miscombobulation.”
    Penelope started to deny any intention to help. But one more look at the determined creature and Penelope knew Mrs. Merlin would brook no protest. And the sooner Mrs. Merlin sprang back to her full size, the sooner she’d be out of Penelope’s once-orderly existence.
    Even though Olano hadn’t said anything, what if he started mulling over the sight of a six-inch-high woman under Penelope’s bed? He’d been a cop. No doubt it was in his nature to investigate things that didn’t quite add up.
    Penelope set some water to boil and found the oatmeal, tucked well back behind bottles of olive oil, balsamic and tarragon vinegars, and her treasured saffron and summer savory.
    Mrs. Merlin had taken to muttering to herself again. Penelope smiled despite her misgivings about helping her with the spell it would take to release her. Messing about with magick was totally foreign ground to her. Add to that her firsthand knowledge of Mrs. Merlin’s last unsuccessful spell, and Penelope’s common sense couldn’t help but warn her away. Why, anything might go wrong.
    She found a bowl for the oatmeal and a salad plate for herself, then shook some oatmeal into the boiling water and thought about how she’d longed for her life to change for the better.
    She’d endured all those years in school with her nose to the grindstone to live out her mother’s dreams for her. Now, released by her mother’s death, she was free to shape her own dreams.
    When the legal recruiter had first contacted her in Chicago, spinning stories of a plum job in an old-line New Orleans law firm, Penelope’s silent reaction had been, I can’t do that. She couldn’t leave a firm where she stood in line for partnership at a record-breaking early age. She couldn’t move to a new city, especially not to the South, where she’d never before stepped foot.
    Penelope stirred the oatmeal and smiled.
    She had done it.
    So why turn her back on a little adventure now?

Chapter 7
    Sighting the fiery orange ticket on his windshield, the infamous calling card of New Orleans’ meter maids, Tony swore under his breath, knowing he was far more infuriated by the idea of Hinson holed up alone with Penelope than he was with the “no parking—loading zone” ticket. It also irritated him that he’d had to leave his car around the corner where he had no view of the building entrance.
    Tony paused with one hand on the handle of his car door. With the other he