Chapter 5
Colt
With my windows cracked, I enjoy the autumn night smells while I drive home from the farmers market, but I'm unable to shake the tense feeling in the pit of my gut.
My usually sunny neighbor is now regularly acting pissy at me, and I know it's because I have been such a judgmental grump toward her.
After learning more about how so many people love her teas, especially women, I paid extra attention during today's market.
Sure enough, I realized that women and teenage girls primarily made up her customers.
I even caught Tessa with a couple of friends buying bags of tea today.
Walking into my small farmhouse, I peel off my fall jacket and hang it on the hook. I then dig out my large sketchpad and pencils and begin brainstorming ideas of how my booth with Serena can be laid out.
On Monday evening, while stirring the cornbread batter, I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the rain patter outside.
Several of my windows are open since rainfall is one of my favorite sounds in the world, and a peace comes over me.
After I take a couple of deep breaths, I finish the mix and pour it into a baking dish.
Sliding it into the preheated oven, I get to work on the butternut squash soup I made yesterday. I just need to heat it up.
A minute later, a knock at my door announces my curvy neighbor's arrival. When she comes in, I begin heating the soup and put the kettle on. The expression on Serena's face is difficult to read. I wonder if it's weird that I made dinner, but given the time, I figured that's what I should do.
When the oven timer dings, I take the cornbread out to cool for a couple of minutes.
"Hey, I sketched out an idea for our booth setup. How about I show you that now?" I say, walking toward my dining room, and Serena follows.
"So, did you stick my witch ass in the far corner?"
My cheeks burn with the comment, but I know I've earned it. I don't respond, but point to my sketch.
"So here I have you on this corner because, given where we're placed for the day, that's the busier side," I say, and her eyes snap to mine with confusion coloring them.
"I also thought maybe we should have some signs for your section listing your teas and their specific benefits so that they can be read a booth or two away, enticing customers to visit."
"Really?" she asks, surprised.
"Uh, yeah. I've just been learning about how so many locals love your teas and how they've helped them with different, you know, things like nursing and whatnot," I say as awkwardly as possible.
Serena's expression softens, and my stomach involuntarily flips.
"Well, I guess we should eat," I manage to say.
During dinner, my witchy neighbor appears more like herself, relaxing in my presence. We discuss the harvest festival without the air of annoyance that's been there up until this point.
"Do you think our signs should be matchy-matchy or should we be dramatically different?" she says, making me bite back a huge grin.
"Well, here," I say, standing up and tossing my napkin on my finished plate. "Let me show you what I had last year and see if you think we can work with it."
Walking to my storage room beside the kitchen, I go into the walk-in space that is lined with shelves and packed with everything I own.
Climbing a small step stool, I reach for last year's harvest festival signs on the top shelf, and accidentally elbow an empty paint can.
It clatters to the ground, bringing several other items on the shelf clamoring down with it.
Serena rushes in.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm—"
But before I finish, a gust of wind slams the storage room door closed.
My curvy neighbor gives a small yelp before turning around to open it.
"It won't budge."
I hop off the step stool and attempt to pull it open, but it's sealed shut. Looking around the edges, it appears the moisture in the air has warped the wood.
"It looks like the humidity from the rain warped the door. This has never happened before."
Serena looks at me with her wide brown eyes, biting her lower lip.
"Well, fuck."
Trying the door again, I put my shoulder into it this time, but it doesn't budge even a fraction.
The space suddenly feels smaller, more intimate, with both of us crammed into my storage room.
I'm acutely aware of how close she is, how her perfume smells like vanilla and something earthy I can't identify.
"Do you have your phone?" I ask, trying to focus on practical solutions instead of how her auburn hair catches the overhead light.
She pats her pockets and shakes her head. "Left it on your dining room table."
"Mine's in the kitchen," I say, running a hand through my hair. "Well, this is just perfect."
The irony isn't lost on me that after months of avoiding my neighbor, we're now literally trapped together in a closet. Serena leans against the shelving unit, crossing her arms, and I notice how the movement makes her sweater stretch across her curves.
"How long do you think before someone notices we're missing? I personally didn't tell anyone I was here this evening."
"Considering no one knows you're here and I don't have any plans tonight..." I trail off, realizing how that sounds.
"So we're stuck here indefinitely."
"Pretty much." I test the door handle one more time, jiggling it uselessly. "Unless you have some witchy magic that can un-stick doors."
Serena snorts. "I'm an herbalist, not a locksmith. My magic doesn't work that way."
For the first time, I find myself wanting to know all about Serena Tuttle and the magic she practices.