Free Husband Rehab by Curtis Hox

happen.”
    “Don’t get between me and my husband, Josie Bran. Trust me, you little brewing vixen.”
    Again, witch talk. Josie is convinced that Stella Spivey is more than she seems, that this situation is complex. What has she done to Lennox to make him come running for help? Josie wants to rehabilitate wayward men, not save them from their witchy wives. Something about all this smacks of the political infighting between the covens and their control of male witches. She doesn’t want to get involved in any of that. All she wants to do is help some wives and rejuvenate Birchall Mansion in the process.
    “He came here. I didn’t go looking for him.”
    “You remember what I said. I’ll handle Roxy and her … restraining spell. Where’s Christine?”
    “I have no idea—”
    Stella Spivey exits as swiftly as she came.
    Christine’s rooms are in the north wing, and Stella will probably have a hard time finding them. That gives Josie time before more drama. She needs to confront Mr. Boris Reiner; she wants to get it over with. Mr. Creeley was her first real worry, Mr. Reiner her second. He’s a major player in Georgia state politics, having spent time in the General Assembly for ten years, and is now a consultant for the Democratic Party. He’s a charmer and a power player.  
    Yeah, could be a very hard case.
    * * *
    Josie hurries to the first floor drawing room, where Lady Birchall sits in her favorite chair.  
    Josie grimaces as she enters the room. The rococo stylings touch every surface, from the frolicking pastel angels on the ceiling, to the gilt furniture that looks as uncomfortable as sitting on stone. The indigos, pinks, turquoises that line every object give her a headache. There’s a reason the Baroque period is considered the Renaissance on crack—and why Modernism went crazy in response.
    “Hello, Lady Birchall,” Josie says. “Are you enjoying the sunshine?”
    She sits before an oriel window with at least twenty individual panes of glass, each mullion painted a bright blue with silver tracery. If ever a room needed to be renovated …, but she knows that such a thing would never be done. Restored, yes, but the parts of Birchall Mansion that were designed with the beaux arts would have to be endured. Sad, but true.
    Lady Birchall reaches out. “Yes, yes, Josie, such a fine day.”
    Josie takes her hand. “Have you seen Lady Cruz?”
    “She’s making arrangements with the others. They’ll be here tonight to see your progress.”
    “I just started …”
    “You’re doing fine. I’m so happy to see us taking this step.”
    Step ?
    “You mean being more public?”
    “Of course, Josie. When I was a girl the craft was still dangerous. Papists and Protestants would come for you, or warlocks . Now that most churches have plenty of us and the warlocks are taken care, why not? You’re a smart girl, like your grandmother.”
    Lady Birchall moves her jaw around, as if her bridge is bothering her. She’s so wrinkled and dried up, she looks mummified. Josie can’t imagine she has much more time among the living. If only she can last until the first funds come in so that she can see Birchall shine again.
    “I want to help get your home back on its feet.”
    Lardy Birchall smiles and pats Josie on her hand. “That’s so sweet.”
    Christine strides into the drawing room. She’s wearing summer clothes fit for gardening. By the stickers in her socks, it looks like she’s been walking the grounds. “They’re coming. We’ll have visitors tonight.”
    “Members of the coven?” Josie says and tries not to gulp.
    “That’s right. To see what you’re up to.”
    “What we’re up to.”
    Christine smiles. “Of course.”
    “I was wondering,” Josie asks, ”if you two might have a suggestion on how to … stop a cheater.”
    Lady Birchall perks up, even shimmying in her chair a little. “You mean that Boris, don’t you?” She raises a scrawny finger into the air. “I know just the