Chapter Nine #2
In the high-backed chair next to me, Rowena sipped her tea in the same manner.
I assumed it was Earl Grey based on the bergamot smell.
On the end table, next to her tea plate, was a small leather-bound book titled An Herbalist’s Guide to Foraging in Maine .
I picked it up, thumbing through the brittle, yellowed pages and studying the detailed illustrations of dandelion greens, wild blueberries, and a variety of edible mushrooms. I recognized many of the plants from Rowena’s garden behind the café.
Rowena was silent as I flipped through the book, though her dark brown eyes remained curiously locked on me. Whenever I returned her eye contact, she quickly turned away, pretending to be enamored by her almost-empty cup of tea.
Rowena was an odd witch.
But I liked her. She was quiet, yet I found these moments oddly companionable. Her presence had a calming effect on me.
Once I finished my coffee, I rinsed the mug in the sink and stacked it in the upper cabinet with the others. Rowena was still sitting in her high-backed chair, her empty teacup perched on the end table.
“So, uh…” I cringed. My voice sounded awkward after such a long period of silence. “What would you like me to make today?”
“I have an idea,” Rowena replied. The chair squeaked as she stood up and walked toward the front counter. “Since it’s almost Halloween, I wanted to stock some pumpkin spice sweets. Does that sound good?”
“Pumpkin… spice ?”
“Yes.”
“Uh…” My face burned at my lack of knowledge. “I mean, I can add pumpkin, but what sort of spices do you want me to use?”
Rowena’s face went blank, then she burst into giggles. “Wait a minute… you don’t know what pumpkin spice is?”
“Uh…”
Rowena could hardly contain her laughter. And as my embarrassment dissipated, I began laughing too. Not only was the situation funny, I loved seeing Rowena laugh. She was always so reserved – I’d never seen her let loose to this extent.
She had a pretty laugh, too. Melodic and sweet.
I wanted to hear it more often.
“You really were isolated on that island, weren’t you?” Rowena asked.
I lowered my head, the tomato color returning to my cheeks.
“Sorry,” Rowena shook her head. “That was insensitive of me. Anyway, ‘pumpkin spice’ is–” Rowena grunted as she reached for the upper shelves, pulling down a small glass canister full of a powdery brown mixture.
“–just a blend of fall spices. Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves… stuff like that. It’s a popular flavor for baked goods during the fall season. ”
“So… it doesn’t actually contain pumpkin?”
“Nope,” Rowena replied, handing me the pumpkin spice canister. “But feel free to add some. There’s a bunch of canned pumpkin in the kitchen.”
“Ok, thank you.” I brushed past Rowena, making my way toward the kitchen door with the pumpkin spice container in hand. “I’ll get to it.”
“Nettie?”
I froze, but didn’t turn around. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry for laughing.”
I fought back a chuckle as I craned my chin over my shoulder, amused that Rowena was apologizing for a second time. “It’s not a big deal. In fact, it’s–”
“I grew up kind of isolated, too.”
I froze. This was the first time she’d mentioned something so personal about herself, but it plucked a deep, longing nerve in my heart.
It also makes me feel queasy. As much as I wanted to learn more about Rowena, I had work to do, and there wasn’t much time left before the café opened.
“Honestly, though,” I continued, cringing as I realized I was completely stepping over Rowena’s words. “It’s okay. In fact, consider it payback for me laughing at the coffee beans earlier.”
That made Rowena chuckle, and my heart fluttered again.
That laugh is so cute.
“I guess you’re right,” she nodded. Her smile disappeared quickly, as if she were scared to wear it for too long. “Let me know if you need anything while you’re baking.”
“I will!” I shouted over my shoulder as I strolled through the kitchen door.
Once I was alone in the kitchen, surrounded by ingredients and utensils, the silence gave my mind time to process our conversation.
Rowena bought me coffee.
We sat and drank our morning beverages together.
I’d learned what pumpkin spice was.
I’d heard Rowena laugh.
Her pale, petite face, framed by that messy bob of black hair, reappeared in my mind. Warmth prickled my cheeks, and alone in the solace of the kitchen, I grinned like a pining idiot.
Maybe I’ll have to try tea again, I thought as I worked at a hurried pace. Within thirty minutes, Mavro was settled into the oven, and the kitchen smelled delightfully of pumpkin spice. The goods would be ready just in time for the café to open.
I’m sure Rowena has plenty of recommendations.
The day came and went the same as it had before. There was a never-ending line all morning, followed by a small lunch rush and a slow trickle of customers in the afternoon.
I enjoyed the bustle of the morning rush – how it kept my hands and mind busy and I got to watch all of my pumpkin-spice pastries disappear from the display case. The customers were cheerful and inquisitive as always, and their compliments on my baking skills made my heart swell with pride.
“Wow, these are the best pumpkin spice cookies I’ve ever had!” Adrian exclaimed as he took a large mouthful, not even waiting for Rowena to tally up his order. “They’re so moist and chewy! What’s your secret?”
“Actual pumpkin,” I replied, and Rowena and I shared a knowing glance with a small chuckle. “It really helps keep the cookies from being too dry.”
Even though it didn’t contain actual pumpkin, the pumpkin spice blend was delicious. I even added some to a second cup of coffee once the morning rush was over, and Rowena explained to me how ‘pumpkin spice lattes’ were one of the favored drinks of humans.
“Why don’t we offer them in the shop then?” I asked as I rinsed out teacups.
Rowena scowled, and I giggled at the way her nose crinkled. “No. The coffee is just for you.”
“Pumpkin spice tea then?”
Rowena looked unamused at first, but I could see her expression shift as she continued cleaning. I knew she was brainstorming what kinds of tea would work well with pumpkin spice.
As much as I enjoyed the morning rush, I was grateful for the calm and quiet of the afternoon lull. It gave me time to clean the kitchen since I hadn’t been able to before the café opened. Aria helped me sweep the crumbs off the counter.
“Now you stay quiet in there,” I whispered to Aria as she climbed into the pocket of my dress. It was a large, flat pocket, so the little mouse had plenty of room to tuck herself in. I still wasn’t sure if I should be interacting with her, so I wanted to keep her existence a secret from Rowena.
Although that was getting harder every day. I’d already had to bribe her with several peanuts when she helped me in the kitchen, and Rowena would eventually notice the bag getting emptier.
I brushed through the kitchen door and entered the front room of the café, where Rowena was wiping down the front counter.
It was 2:15, so we had less than an hour left until closing.
There were no customers in the store, and Rowena had a teapot boiling with a blend that smelled both earthy and fruity.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent, tapping my front pocket to ensure Aria was still hidden. The blend smelled a lot more pleasant than Earl Grey. Maybe I’d have to ask Rowena if I can try some.
I watched as Rowena pulled the teapot off the counter, pouring herself yet another cup of tea in her favorite forest-animal-patterned mug. But when I noticed her fingers hovered over the tea longer than usual, I realized now was a good time to ask about her magic.
“So, you’re an herbalist, right?”
Rowena’s head snapped up. She seemed startled by my sudden question, but she nodded.
“I was just wondering, since I learned a bit about witch magic from the other townsfolk yesterday,” I continued. “So how exactly… do you cast spells on the tea? How does it all work?”
Rowena’s features softened, and she chuckled. Despite her reserved nature, I could tell she enjoyed talking about her abilities.
“Well, herbalism isn’t really a witch power.
It’s a learned skill; being able to identify different plants and know what properties they contain.
” As Rowena spoke, she poured honey from a dark vial into her tea, stirring it with a tiny wooden spoon.
“Even humans can learn herbalism. But among witches, chloromancers are obviously the best at it. Because not only can I identify and cultivate useful herbs, I can use my plant magic to enhance their natural properties. So, my blends are far more powerful than anything you’ll buy from an ordinary tea shop. ”
“Wow. So… that’s what casting a spell is? The magic just flows from you?”
“For most powers, yes,” Rowena replied. “Most of us witches can’t just ‘cast a spell’ on anything.
We just enhance the properties the object already has.
True spellwork – giving ordinary objects magical abilities – is known as enchanting.
It’s a tricky, complicated process, and enchanter witches are exceptionally rare. ”
“Do you have an enchanter in this town?”
“Um, no, we haven’t in some time.”
“But you used to?”
I could see Rowena’s face tense up, and my stomach bunched itself up in knots. I was venturing into prying territory again, and I could see how uncomfortable it made her.
But my wolf goaded me on, hungry with intense curiosity.
“Yes. Juniper’s mother, Aster, was an enchantress.”
Aster . My gaze fell on the black beaded necklace around Rowena’s neck. Juniper had mentioned her mother gave Rowena the necklace when they were young, before she passed away. Did that mean it was enchanted?
And more importantly, what was it enchanted with?
“Was she–”