When she took this job, she’d thought it was the best way to make the world a better place without braving an election, but the longer she worked in politics, the more she realized she needed to get her ass in gear. Unmarried women often had a hard time getting elected, and since she was twice divorced, it would be even tougher for Leanne. She could imagine the smear campaign now:

She can’t even commit to one man. How can you trust her to do what’s right for you?

If a potential husband dropped out of the sky, that would be awesome, preferably one who stuck around until she got a seat on the city council. If she had to attend these meetings, her voice should matter, right? She wished she could approve the funding for the community center herself, but in her current role, she lacked the power to make any lasting changes.

With a sigh, she stared at her vibrating phone and tiptoed out the back—not easy in a pair of designer heels. She didn’t let the backs touch the floor until she pulled the door gently closed behind her. At least the lights had been dimmed in the middle of the presentation, providing cover for her exit. Her mother wasn’t the type to give up, so she’d keep calling until Leanne answered. She took a few more steps away from the conference room then picked up.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“What time will be you home?”

Based on precedent, the question sent cold chills down her spine. “Why?”

“Hurry back! I’m making margaritas!”

Those prescient shivers ripened into full-on foreboding, and she raised her eyes to the ceiling that bore an ominous water stain in the shape of a turkey leg. The mayor really did need to allot more funds for community use, not that doing the right thing ever pinged on his radar. This center had seen better days, and the lighting was shit. On the other end of the call, a blender whirred in the background.

Leanne counted to ten, wishing she had a normal witch for a mother. Danica’s mom enjoys gardening. I bet she never spent the summer following Phish in a van with a guy named Noodles. The only good aspects of that? Leanne had been left to her own devices when she was old enough to manage, and her mom didn’t marry Noodles.

“You’re in my kitchen, aren’t you?”

Sunshine and cheer sparkled across the line. If there was a project glitter spell, her mom would be casting it. “I landed three hours ago! Wanted to surprise you.”

Surprise was one word that could apply to her mother’s unexpected arrival, but not the one Leanne had in mind. “We’ve talked about this. Boundaries, remember? Popping in isn’t—”

“They’re mango margaritas!” her mom cut in.