Mirror, Mirror by Tami Lund

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When Adelle Hendrix sees her best friend, Ben Jackson, in a supposedly enchanted mirror, the kooky fortune teller insists he’s meant to be her happily ever after. Yeah, right. Magic doesn’t exist and Adelle gave up on finding her Mr. Right a long time ago. Surely she and Ben aren't meant to be more than friends...

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Nook    Apple

“Have you ever heard of the Legend of Bloody Mary?” the old woman asked, her voice low and serious.
“The drink?”
“You really are an idiot,” the woman snapped.
“The queen?” Adelle desperately tried again, as if she needed to prove to the strange, insulting woman that she wasn’t an idiot. “From Tutor times?”
“Closer,” the woman said, her tone resigned. “I thought you said Ben liked intelligent women.”
Adelle glared at her.
The old woman sat back in her chair. The candlelight flickered across her features, distorting them, making them appear … younger. Adelle blinked and the impression was gone. The woman was old and wrinkled again, drooping dark eyes watching her closely.
“According to the legend, there’s a certain time of year that if a girl really wants to know, if she is sincere enough about it, she can take a candle and hold it before a particular mirror, and the image of her future mate will appear.”
“Even though I have no interest in going down that path again, the next time I have a candle and a mirror handy, I’ll be sure to take a look,” Adelle muttered. She was fast losing patience with this game. 
“It works best during the harvest moon.”
Adelle glanced at the entrance of the tent. The curtain was closed, but she knew the moon had risen in the sky by now, was probably hovering over the lake, casting pale moonlight over the reception tent.
“Try it now, if you’d like.” The woman waved her hand to the side. Adelle turned to look in the direction she indicated and then gasped.
“That mirror wasn’t there a minute ago,” she blurted.
“You just weren’t looking,” the woman replied.
“Yes, I was.” She stabbed her finger toward the mirror. “It wasn’t there. The only thing in this tent was you and that candle and that stupid jack-o-lantern.” The jack-o-lantern’s carved face was pensive. How many glasses of wine had she consumed tonight?
The old woman indicated the candle. “Go ahead. Since it’s here now, why don’t you test the old legend?”
“Who put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke, because I’m not laughing.” 
“Me neither,” the woman said mildly. “Go ahead. I’m just as curious as you.”
“I’m not curious,” she insisted, but it wasn’t true. She was curious, if only to prove that the woman was as certifiable as she suspected. After the humiliating and disastrous way her relationship with Daryl ended, Adelle had sworn off men—forever.
“Fine.” She reached over and snatched up the candle. The flame shimmered and wavered, and for a moment, Adelle feared it would go out entirely, once again bathing the tent in utter darkness. 
“Go ahead,” the old woman encouraged when she did not move.
Adelle’s breath caused the flame to shiver. She turned and walked slowly toward the tall, oval mirror situated on two wooden legs. Curious hieroglyphics were carved into the frame; it was probably older than the crazy old woman. It was quite beautiful, though—how could she have not noticed it when she first entered the tent?
Ben would like this mirror. He had a thing for antiques, which wasn’t surprising given his fascination with all things strange and unusual and steeped in folklore and legends.
“What do you see?” The old woman’s voice was hushed and sounded as if it were coming from a great distance.
“I see a twenty-eight-year-old blonde woman who was forced to dress up like a gypsy so she could stand up in her friend’s theme wedding.”
“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you? I can see why you and Nicky’s mate are such good friends. Concentrate,” the old woman barked.
“What am I concentrating on?”
The woman made a noise that sounded like a Whoopee Cushion. “The mirror. What do you see? Other than yourself.”
Adelle stared into the reflective glass until the image of herself, dressed in a peasant shirt and flowing skirt, blurred, until all she really saw was the flickering candle. 
The flame was abruptly extinguished, and then just as suddenly flared back to life, so brightly that Adelle looked up at the mirror instead of directly at the light. Something in the glass caught her eye and she focused, trying to determine what it was.
The jack-o-lantern was grinning at her again. And slightly to the left, there was Ben, standing next to the glowing pumpkin, his hands thrust casually into the pockets of his pants, a lopsided smile on his face.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She heard the relief in her voice as she turned around.
He wasn’t there.

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