Dewitched (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 3) by Dakota Cassidy

“He thought I was an heiress with a trust fund, all right?”
    Win began to laugh in my ear, so loud and so hard, he wheezed. “Priceless! They scammed each other! Oh, bloody good show!”
    “So he thought you had money, too?” The magnitude of not just the pretense of riches, but the mental work it required to keep up such a ruse fell on me, full impact. “Oh, Mom. Haven’t you learned after all this time? Stuff like this catches up with you. I thought after husband number three hundred and eight, you’d get it. And you’ve married other men and didn’t have to pretend you were rich to get them to say I do.”
    My mother let out an annoyed sigh, smoothing her silky hair back over her shoulder. “Don’t exaggerate, Stephania. I’ve only had five husbands, counting Bart . But he told me he would only marry a woman of his ilk, and when I peeked at his net worth, well, you know the rest of the story.”
    Oh, what tangled webs we weave… I cleared my throat. “So you pretended to be ‘of his ilk’ before you even knew if he had ilk himself? How’d you manage that?”
    Dita didn’t look guilty when she told me. Not even a little. “Masters, my last husband, left me some money, and of course I have credit cards…”
    “ Some money? Wasn’t Masters a legit multimillionaire?”
    “He was, but he left most everything to his greedy children and his various charities. Some diabetes foundation or another, the hunting club, etcetera.”
    Now for the biggest question of all—the one which would determine how much debt she was really in. “How much did he leave you, Mom?”
    “Enough to—”
    “ How. Much? ” I wasn’t letting this go. If we were going to try to fix this, we were going all the way.
    “Two hundred thousand dollars.”
    Win groaned with me.
    Licking my lips, I said through clenched teeth, “And where is that money now, Mom?”
    Looking out the window at the boats, she drummed her fingers on the table. “Well, I had to prove to Bart I was an heiress, didn’t I? So I bought a car and some small trinkets. They were investments…”
    “While I lived like a pauper in a fleabag motel and ate dollar tacos to make my money last? Nice, Mom.”
    Dita turned her eyes to me, all doughy and soft. “I didn’t know, Stephania.”
    I fought the urge to be petty, but it slipped out anyway. “Because you didn’t want to know. Bart told you he didn’t want you to know.”
    Mom swallowed, licking her lips. “That’s fair.”
    “So, in other words, all the money you had is gone, yes?”
    “Yes,” she said in a weak voice.
    “How long did you think you could keep making him believe you were an heiress with a big fat trust fund?”
    “Do you want the truth?”
    “Nah. I want you to lie to me. Of course I want the truth, Mom!”
    Her shoulders lifted under her powder-blue cashmere sweater. “Until someone better, maybe richer came along. I had my eye on a shipping magnate.”
    I popped up from the table, my work boots clomping on the gorgeous hardwood floor to keep from throttling her. “Okay, I need a breather and it’s almost nine. That means I have to go because I don’t want to be late for my nine-thirty at the shop. Let me mull some of this over and we’ll reconnect later this afternoon when I’m done with work.”
    “And what do you expect I’ll do all day? Hang around with those disgusting mutants upstairs?”
    Count the credit card companies you owe? Plan a funeral for your husband?
    “Count, Stevie. Do the three-count. In this instance, maybe five or even ten. Whatever it takes to keep your cool. Remember, as we discussed. Be clear and concise with your requirements for this relationship, but don’t give in to fits of sarcasm. And no passive-aggressive stabs at her clear inability to focus on anything but herself, or her lack of sensitivity after abandoning you in your darkest hour,” Win encouraged. “The time to hash her faults as a mother out are for after this is handled. And