Chapter 12 #2
“I want a sausage, witch.”
“I’ll pay for her,” I tell Tara, embarrassed by my feline companion’s rudeness. It’s one thing to have it directed at me, but another to be slightly responsible for her behavior in public.
“Flip the sign to closed and follow me to the back, okay? I’ll get you both fed. Coffee or tea?” Tara asks.
“Coffee would be amazing. And I’ll take whatever food you recommend. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life.”
“Trust me, I get it,” Tara lets out a loud laugh that lasts just a bit too long.
She sucks in a breath through her teeth, and I raise my eyebrows.
There’s definitely a story there. “I want to hear whatever that’s about.” I gesture randomly.
“Oh, here she goes again, flailing around,” Prudence says from her spot on the floor. “Watch her, or she’ll fall down for no reason.”
My molars grind and I pivot, turning to lock the door and flip Tara’s sign to say “Closed.”
“You know, I might not have a familiar, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be helpful, and not a bitch.” Tara’s voice is firm, and I wince because I have a feeling I know how Prudence is going to take that advice.
“I’m not a bitch. I’m a cat. A feline. Words have meanings.”
“Yeah, and you know exactly what I mean, so stop acting like you don’t.” There’s a real bite to Tara’s words now, and my grimace deepens because that talking kitty has claws.
“Fine.”
I turn around, not sure I’ve heard my mean black cat right. Did she say fine? Surely not. It was probably a different four-letter word that starts with f.
“How do you like your coffee, Sylvie?” Tara calls out from behind the counter.
“A little half and half and some sugar,” I say. “Thank you, seriously.”
“I have a tray of sausage, egg and cheese klobasnik in the oven, and there’s another that’s a special jalapeno venison sausage roll—they’re pretty spicy, but they’re my favorite. And then I have cinnamon apple and cream cheese kolaches today, too.”
My stomach growls, my mouth watering. “Wow.”
“You know what? I’m going to get you one of each and you just eat whatever you can.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Shut up,” Tara says congenially. “You need to eat. Besides, we’re about to get real close real fast. The least I can do is feed you.”
“And me.” Prudence flicks her tail, glaring daggers at her.
Or maybe that’s just her face. Perma-mean cat-stank-face.
I mean, she would be adorable if it weren’t for the fact she’s completely terrifying.
“Of course, Prudence.” There’s a note of sarcasm in Tara’s voice, and from the silence on Prudence’s end, I get the feeling she wasn’t quite ready for Tara’s force of character.
Heh.
“So, ah, how long have you been a witch?” I manage, coming around the counter and standing there awkwardly. An old-fashioned bead curtain separates the front of the café from the back room, and Tara holds it back for me to step through it.
There’s a set of commercial ovens, counters and fridges, and everything is sparkling clean and brand-new. A little table with fresh flowers is wedged in a corner with several chairs around it and a white and black checkered rug underneath.
“This is so nice,” I say, interrupting my own line of questioning.
“Well, the original burned down a couple years ago, but insurance did its job and then some, thankfully.”
“This is an excellent potion-making space,” Prudence says.
Tara and I share an amused look.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be used to the talking cat,” I tell Tara.
“Well, that makes two of us.” She pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down as she whirls around, putting together a tray of pastries that smell absolutely delectable.
Prudence sniffs around, and I have to say, other than the fact she’s rude, she’s pretty well-behaved as far as cats go. I have a feeling she’d consider it beneath her to pee on stuff or hack up a hairball.
“As far as how long I’ve been a witch, you know, that’s… a bizarre subject. Suffice to say I had to sort of come to grips with… paranormal things about the same time this place burned down. My aunt Tilly always said we had power, but I just chalked it all up to her, er, eccentricities.”
“Tilly is important,” Prudence tells us, washing her whiskers on the chair opposite me. “We should talk to her, too, human.”
“Am I human? You’re just calling me human now?” Honestly.
“Apologies, Sylvie.” Prudence doesn’t sound sorry at all, but I’ll take it.
“So you know how to handle whatever evil spirits are haunting the bookstore?” I ask Tara, hope and fear making my stomach roil.
She sets a carafe of coffee on the table, alongside a pretty silver creamer boat and matching sugar cube holder.
The huge platter of Czech pastries follow, and they are literally perfect.
You can’t grow up in Texas and not know what a kolache is, but Tara’s kolaches?
These suckers are next level—I can tell just by looking at them.
Fluffy yeast dough, the perfect amount of filling, all baked to a glistening golden perfection.
Evil spirits be damned, I’m in kolache heaven.
“I can’t say I have extensive experience with ghosts, but I have had experience with ghosts. The trick seems to be finding out what they want. After that, they either go away to rest or to the next plane or who knows—”
“You need a familiar, too,” Prudence mutters, but it comes out slightly garbled thanks to the fact she’s whiskers-deep in a saucer of milk.
“I wouldn’t mind some help,” Tara tells her tactfully. “Especially if it’s worse than what Em and I have had to deal with.”
“Em? Aiden’s partner’s wife, right?”
“Yeah, she’s awesome. She owns the boutique hotel and basically is responsible for putting New Hopewell on the map.
She had a major haunting issue when she moved here, too, but now her spirits just kind of hang out.
The real problem was the guy who wanted to buy the property she wanted.
The ghosts were more of a… package deal. ”
I blink. “I’m not sure that makes sense to me.”
“I’m not sure any of this makes sense,” Tara agrees, then takes a huge bite of one of the cream cheese-topped kolaches.
I follow her lead and bite into a kolache of my own. Steam billows from the pillowy dough. My eyes fly wide open, and I cover my mouth with my hand, surprised at the sheer heat captured inside the deceptively cool roll.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Tara tells me. “It’s hot.”
“It’s so good,” I assure her from around my full mouth.
It is, too, freaking egg and sausage and cheese perfection. I close my eyes, just savoring it for a moment.
Sure, my life has taken a slightly—okay, very—strange turn, but I have a delicious kolache and hot coffee.
The little things—small pieces of normalcy and gratitude—matter.
I’ve found that out the hard way over the years, and it’s a practice that serves me well now. Savor the melted cheese and peppery sausage, the perfect, buttery yeast dough. Inhale the aroma of fresh coffee and baking bread. Take a second and relish the fact I’m warm and dry and safe.
“This is just what I needed,” I tell Tara, finally opening my eyes and smiling at her, grounded. “The food and coffee—it’s amazing. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for you both inviting me here… and being able to hear ye olde talking cat.”
Ye olde talking cat makes a grumpy noise, still distorted by the saucer of milk in front of her.
“You’re going to be okay,” Tara reaches for my hand, squeezing my wrist briefly. “You aren’t imagining any of this. The world is strange and full of magic, but I will do my best to help you, and you have Prudence.”
She manages to say that last part without one iota of sarcasm, but she grins when my eyebrows raise at Prudence’s name.
“Alright.” Tara claps her hands, settling back in her seat with her mug of steaming coffee. “So. On top of starting a whole business, you also, apparently, have an unfriendly ghost infestation. Let’s take it one component at a time.”
I nod, my stomach twisting uncomfortably at the idea of everything I still have to freaking do.
“Aiden set up my website last night, and I need to call the graphic designer for logo and branding stuff, and then basically it’s time to clean the store from top to bottom, and—oh shit, Colton the contractor is coming by…
” My voice goes quiet as my mind spirals.
“And then there’s the whole evil spirt thing. ”
“Okay, honestly, it sounds like you’re in a good place. Cleaning? We can use that as a two birds, one stone type of thing. You can clean for dirt while you cleanse for spirits. Two for one deal.”
“She is smart.” Prudence dabs a black paw in the milk, then licks it off.
Tara and I stare at each other for a long moment, and the urge to laugh grips me. I bite my lips to keep the sound from coming out.
Honestly, though, this is all so incredibly weird—it’s a wonder I haven’t melted down yet.
“I don’t have time to melt down,” I say out loud.
“She does that,” Prudence tells Tara. “Talks to herself.”
Tara ignores my bad-attitude familiar. “You’re right. You don’t have time to melt down. Besides, you have me. And Aiden set up your website for you? That’s… really nice of him.”
“Yeah,” I shrug as Tara narrows her eyes at me. “He said the town council assigned him as like my welcome wagon person or whatever.”
“Right.” She drags out the word, still giving me a hawk-eyed look.
I take another huge bite of egg-and-sausage-filled kolache, not trusting myself to say much more about Aiden.
For once, Prudence keeps her thoughts to herself. Probably because she’s currently busy eviscerating a sausage and can’t be bothered to stop gorging herself long enough to make a snarky remark.
I make a mental note to start keeping sausage handy.
“But yeah, I mostly need to check on wholesaler book orders and do some last-minute shopping, then figure out what he started online and finish setting that up, then just work on having the actual store functional.” I let out a whoosh of breath. God. It’s a lot. “I can do this, right?”