In reality, nothing was happening because Antonio was stuck in some sort of mental paralysis.
Since I was the reporter, editor, and publisher of my one-person paper I could take small liberties with the facts. Besides, as Aunt Pearl liked to say, nobody read my paper anyway. They only wanted the flyers and coupons inside.
I had to do something to help Antonio. Maybe I could salvage enough wine to ensure that Lombard Wines at least made an appearance at the festival. I had just turned the key in the ignition when cold hands gripped my shoulders from behind.
Chapter 2
“Help!” I screamed but only a croak came out.
Nobody would hear me on the deserted street. Was this a carjacking, a kidnapping, or both? I had always felt safe in Westwick Corners.
Until now.
“Shut up and drive,” the voice whispered. The grip on my throat loosened slightly.
It was hard to tell from a whisper, but the voice sounded strangely familiar. Although my hands shook, I managed to put the car in gear. I kept my foot on the brake and racked my brain for a way out of the situation.
Should I try to fight off my assailant? Honk the horn? I had never been taken hostage before. I stalled for time, trying to figure out what to do.
“For crying out loud, Cendrine! Do you really have to shoulder-check twice?”
I sighed in relief as I pried the bony fingers from my neck. Aunt Pearl only called me by my full name when she was mad at me. I had no clue what I had done to anger her.
Probably nothing.
“How did you get in my car?” I asked.
“Don’t act all surprised. I’m a witch, after all. And you’re late, as usual. I’ve been freezing my butt off waiting for you for almost an hour. What took you so long?”
“I had work to finish up. We never made plans, did we? Why did you break into my car? I hope you didn’t wreck the—”
“Stop interrogating me, Cen. We’ve got a job to do and it’s not going to take care of itself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aunt Pearl. I’ve already got plans.”
“Not with that sheriff boyfriend of yours, you don’t. You know he’s not working late at the office like he said, don’t you?”
“Stop trying to stir up trouble. Too bad if you don’t like him. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Oh, I know where he is, Cen.” Aunt Pearl held a finger to her lips. “Don’t ask me because I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of asking. “Anyway, I’m on my way over to Lombard Wines to help Antonio bottle his wine for tomorrow.”
“Don’t make like saving Antonio was all your idea. You know that’s why I’m here.”
“Uh, no…I didn’t.”
“You always take credit for everything. Put this junk heap in gear and let’s go.”
Aunt Pearl now sat beside me in the passenger seat, looking larger than usual in her puffy down jacket. Underneath she wore her purple velour tracksuit, and on her feet were running shoes. She stared straight ahead.
I had no recollection of her climbing into the front seat so I suspected she had placed a spell on me. That was a blatant violation of WICCA rules, but Aunt Pearl could care less.
I was also certain that I had come up with the idea to help Antonio on my own but decided that it wasn’t worth arguing about.
I sighed. “I’m not taking credit for anything, Aunt Pearl. I am glad that both of us are helping Antonio. That should make things go a lot faster.”
Ten minutes later we were at Lombard Wines, freezing half to death inside the huge cavernous building that doubled as a tasting room and a fully functional winery. The heat had been turned off, and it was so cold that my breath formed vapors as I talked.
The winery appeared to be in even worse shape than when I had visited yesterday. Overturned barrels and stacked wine cartons were scattered throughout the tasting room, some blocking the aisles that led to the winery’s large stainless-steel wine vats. Trails of muddy footprints soiled the polished cement floor. Footprints led to and from the front entrance and to the rear of the building, where stairs descended down to the basement wine cellar.
The whole scene was chaotic, the complete opposite of the normally spotless winery.
I shivered. It seemed even colder inside the winery than outdoors. Antonio had probably shut the heat off to save money.
The lights still shone overhead so at least the power hadn’t been cut. I suspected that was coming soon.
Antonio Lombard sat on a barstool at the winetasting bar, his back to us. His shoulders were slumped, his elbows rested on the bar.
“Antonio! Get your butt in gear!” Aunt Pearl’s voice echoed in the cavernous room.
Antonio jerked up and spun around, startled. “What do you want?”
He was unshaven and his hair seemed to have turned gray overnight. Instead of his usual golf shirt and khakis, he wore an old white t-shirt with wine stains over faded jeans that had ripped knees and frayed hems. He wore flip flops instead of proper shoes. He looked as neglected as the winery. I had never seen him like this.
“Uh, we’re bottling wine, remember?” Judging by the state of the winery, he hadn’t remembered. “Tell us what to do.”
Aunt Pearl tapped her foot impatiently. “I haven’t got all day, Antonio. Do you want our help or not?”
Antonio either didn’t hear or else pretended not to. He gazed dreamily off into the distance.
“This is ridiculous! You drag me all the way over here and he’s totally ignoring us.” Aunt Pearl tapped her foot impatiently. “Time is money, Cen.”
“I didn’t drag you here. You broke into my car, remember?” I already regretted letting her come with me. “Can we focus on
