Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
T he gargoyles finally returned to their perch. Bay leaves were placed in the windowsill. Spellbooks were safely locked away in the special collections room. It was just another Monday at the Freya Grove Historical Society. Gus poured Cinder’s food into her bowl and was about to dig into his overnight oats when he heard his phone buzz on the kitchen counter. He picked it up and saw a long text from an unknown number on his phone: Hi, Gus. Good morning. I got your number from Diane. Do you have plans for breakfast?
Who was texting him this early? Nicolas was asleep and Beryl was probably working on making her third breakfast. Another text popped in. This is Sirena BTW.
His heartbeat kicked up. He’d been thinking about her ever since they had a little fun at Harvest Festival on Saturday. A third text was an image of Ember, propped up on a dresser, looking like an eagle perched on a ledge. He laughed out loud.
Gus responded without missing a beat. I’m free. Meet me at Mimi’s at 9.
She replied, See you then. I have a business proposal for you.
Gus stared at the text for a long moment. Hmm. Interesting. What kind of proposal did she have in mind? Even though he wasn’t as famous as he used to be, townsfolk would sometimes pick his brain about a financial opportunity. Maybe Sirena wanted to talk about investing in a pop-up restaurant, or a tasting menu. The trickster side of him, the one that delighted in making her gasp, whispered, I wonder what treats she has planned for you .
He had had Sirena’s cooking only once and craved another taste. His rational side took over and told him to calm down. Sirena was inviting him to breakfast, not cooking for him at all.
He was about to leave out the back door through the kitchen, but he stopped. Gus heard a loud thump on the front porch. Did he forget a scheduled delivery? He went through the house to the front door and opened it. A delivery driver walked down the stairs talking to someone on her wireless device.
“Have a good day!” she yelled over her shoulder.
He glanced down at the thick package. Okay. He wasn’t expecting anything from Diane or Ma, but he was always receiving random donations from strangers. Gus scooped up the package and brought it into the living room. It was lucky that he hadn’t left for the diner yet. Lately, porch trolls had been scooping up packages, hoping to get a finder’s fee for locating the “missing” parcel. He got his spare wand from the front desk and waved it over the package. The wand glowed white, then turned green, signaling that the package was safe to open. As a magician, he was always on guard for surprise hexes that might be attached to older items. Ever since Gus had a terrible experience with an enchanted puppet, he always made sure to do a magical check on all packages.
He pocketed his wand and slit the box open to reveal two Bubble-Wrapped items. There was an envelope addressed to him taped to the larger item. Gus opened it and read the enclosed letter. The handwriting was straightforward and a little shaky.
Dear Mr. Dearworth,
I found these items. I didn’t know what to do with them, but I saw your video. What you said about protecting the past got to me. I sent you what I found. You seem like the best man for the job.
Best,
A Friend of the Grove
Gus sent a silent word of thanks to that anonymous donor for this gift. Most times, when people were cleaning out attics and basements, they didn’t have the time to look through everything and just tossed it all. He couldn’t begin to imagine the countless treasures that had been lost because of negligence, but at least he could preserve whatever remained here. Nothing felt off about these items, so he picked up the larger bundle and unwrapped it. It was a leather-bound journal that seemed to be a cookbook. He brought it to the table to examine it further without stressing the binding.
Gus leaned forward, taking in the handwritten notes about measurements and watercolor sketches of local herbs and extensive marginalia. A low sound of interest escaped his lips. He took a few photos with his phone and typed a message to himself, then looked up a few things in the historical society records.
The second item was a wooden spoon carved with symbols and etchings. He’d have to check in with his contact in the History Department at Meadowdale College to examine the item. Cinder meowed at him.
Gus looked up from the pages and saw the clock. It was ten after nine. His chest jumped.
“Oh, damn.” He gently returned the book to the box and put it up on the donation shelf. It was just like him to lose track of time.
As Gus left the house, he hoped that Sirena would still be there waiting for him.
Spells, potions, and home fries were being traded at Mimi’s Diner at any given time. Gus walked into Mimi’s and surveyed the scene before him. The eatery, located in downtown Freya Grove, was designed with classic blue and white tile and chrome edges. Navy blue swivel stools lined the mosaic-tiled counter, sea-glass blue and green stained glass lamps gave the place a nostalgic feel. The walls were painted in shades of blue and white to invoke the feeling of the seaside inside the restaurant. The case next to the cashier held a selection of apple cider donuts, pumpkin spice muffins, and cookies shaped like leaves. Gus noticed Sirena sitting in a booth by the window. She scribbled a note into the open notebook before her on the table. Her nimble fingers danced over her phone as she looked something up. He approached the booth, his heart pounding as if he were meeting a date for a study session. Diane was right. He was super nerdy.
Sirena looked up and quickly closed her book with a snap. Her face brightened.
She slid out of the booth and stood to greet him, giving him a brief hug. “Thanks for meeting me, Gus.”
His body hummed at the press of her body against his chest. He leaned back and gave her a once-over. Her fuzzy apple-red sweater popped against her gorgeous brown skin and was fitted to her ample bust and body. A long pendant, an egg-shaped red stone, dangled from her neck. Black jeggings encased her shapely thighs and made her legs long and thick. Gus peeked down at her feet and grinned. The striped socks she wore under her buckled shoes gave her the perfect witchy touch. He brought his attention up to her face. Sirena was smiling and dazzling. Her braids were swept up away from her face into a side bun that was pinned up with a felt apple fascinator. Sunlight streamed from the window onto her and made her sparkle like a ruby.
He checked his mouth to make sure he wasn’t drooling.
“You look nice,” he said, sliding into the booth on the opposite side from her.
Sirena joined him. “Thanks. I figured I’d try to match what you might wear.”
Gus did an outfit check. He wore his usual rainbow tweed sweater, red jacket, and khakis, the unofficial outfit he wore at this time of the year. Based on the colors present in both their outfits, they could definitely match. What were the chances?
He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up with work.”
Sirena checked her phone on the table and smiled. “It’s okay. I should’ve planned better and called you earlier. But I’ll get straight to the point. I know you’re busy. I hope I didn’t interrupt breakfast with Diane or your girlfriend.”
“Diane’s at work and I was having breakfast with my cat,” he said.
She perked up. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“Cinder’s all right. My sister thinks I’m going to become a cat daddy—whatever that means.”
Sirena nodded. “Listen, it happens. You tell yourself you’re buying one toy and then you end up purchasing a cat-friendly birthday outfit at two a.m.”
Gus chuckled. Cinder would probably crawl under the house if he tried to put anything on her.
“You mentioned a business proposal,” he reminded her gently.
Was she looking for an investor for a restaurant? Maybe that’s what she was writing about when he arrived. He had a decent amount of money in savings that he could lend her, depending on her pitch.
Sirena straightened and folded her hands over her notebook. “I’m making a few changes in my life, and I need your help. Let’s talk about fun,” she said. A cheerful sparkle entered her eyes.
Gus forced a smile once he heard this word. Of all the things in the world, why did she want to talk about fun? Aside from his outburst at the Harvest Festival, he didn’t have real excitement anymore. Back when he was Good-Time Gus, he was the foolish one who partied until dawn with Vegas showgirls while eating lobster burgers and fries covered in edible gold dust.
Now his idea of fun was finding a new podcast to stream and having two pumpkin spice donuts with his coffee.
“I don’t know if I’m the right guy,” he said.
“No, you’re the best person for the job,” she responded. “Hear me out.”
He leaned in over the table, interested in what else she had to say.
She played with her pendant necklace. “There’s an it factor that some people have. You have it. You have this fun spark about you.”
His forced smile morphed into a real one. She thinks you have a spark.
“I’ve saw it at the festival and when I’ve watched your show.”
Satisfaction jolted through him. “You’ve watched Dealing with the Dearworths .” Why did he like the idea that she’d seen his act?
She blushed and dropped her necklace. “I might have watched it once—or twice. Anyway, I want you to show me how to get that spark, that fire.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. Hmm. He had to be missing some information, because Sirena Caraway was one of the most talented witches in town. Gus had watched her cook before, and the graceful way she worked her grill reminded him of a conductor guiding an orchestra of flavor rather than sound. If he had a spark of talent, then she had a whole firework shed of talent. Gus opened his mouth to ask for more details, but Mimi, the owner and head waitress, came over to them, cradling two glasses of water. She wore a paper hat over her steel-gray hair with her blue and white diner uniform and name tag.
“Welcome, folks, to Mimi’s. Good morning,” Mimi chirped. “Sorry for the wait. We’re short-staffed today.”
She placed the glasses on the table with a practiced ease.
“Our special menus are on the table. I’ll give you time to decide what y’all want.”
Mimi went off to tend to another table, leaving them alone to make their selection. Sirena plucked the menus from between the napkins and ketchup.
He furrowed his brow. “You don’t need my help. I’ve seen you cook.”
She picked at the peeling edge of her menu with a grimace. “You’ve seen me flip burgers and cut fries.”
“It was the best burger I’ve ever eaten,” he said without hesitation. Sirena slid a menu over to him and met his eyes.
The memory of that last July replayed in his brain. Gus had taken a rare day off to visit Freya Grove Beach and decided to have lunch at the Shore Shack, the open-air boardwalk eatery. The shaded area was being run by Sirena, one waitress, and a single cashier. He watched from a counter seat as Sirena, dressed in a T-shirt dress and sneakers, effortlessly cooked up food for waiting customers. Despite the restless crowd, she never lost her cool and made sure that everyone’s order was cooked to satisfaction. She served up hot plates while singing aloud the R she was a kitchen witch.” Sirena pinched the screen to enlarge the photo. “Check out the marginalia.”
Gus moved to sit next to her on her side of the booth to get a better view. He accidentally brushed up against her arm. The bubbly magic shocked him, and he jerked away. Gus noticed Sirena shiver a little at their contact, but she didn’t say anything.
Sirena gestured to the phone with her chin. “There are some kitchen witches who like to use certain energies of the moon or sun in their craft. She notes cooking in time with the phases of the moon.”
“What about your craft?” he asked.
Sirena clicked her teeth. “I tend to go with emotions and vibes. I’m the crier in my family. I feel things deeply and it shows in my food. Rainy and cold days call for soup, sunny days for sandwiches and garden salads. Grilled cheese tends to be my comfort food.”
“I like tomato soup,” he said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sirena murmured warmly. “Did the book come with anything else? Maybe a bowl or a spoon?”
“Yes,” he said. “It came with a wooden spoon.”
“There’s a good chance that Juliette might have carved the spoon herself or had it made for her conjuring work.”
Sirena swiped to another page in the gallery, pinched to enlarge it, and gasped. She smiled. “There’s a recipe for stone soup!”
She let out a little excited laugh. Despite himself, he smiled at the cute sound. Was it possible to catch a case of excitement from another person?
Gus shrugged. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a great thing,” she said sagely. “Nana Ruth made stone soup when we were little. Unfortunately, she never wrote down the recipe. She taught it to me once, but I can never get it right. I’ve never seen a recipe like Nana’s, but from what I remember, this version is close.”
“Your nana didn’t write it down,” Gus said carefully, trying to comprehend her reasoning. As a magician, he wrote everything down, much to his ma’s annoyance. She used to fuss at him about writing down the key to their illusions. How can you keep our secrets if you write them all down?! Of course, those books were firmly locked away in a bank vault. Gus wanted to have a record of every Dearworth illusion and charm to be shared with the next generation. Gus reluctantly moved back to his side of the booth, not wanting to crowd Sirena.
She wrinkled her brow. “Kitchen witches can be protective of our work, especially when it comes to magic potions. Whatever you write down to keep, be prepared to lose it. The wrong potion used in the wrong way could spell disaster.”
“Like a love potion?” he suggested.
“Why does everyone immediately use that potion as an example?” she muttered.
“People want to fall in love.”
Their eyes connected; an unreadable emotion appeared in hers. “Love potions are a myth. You can’t magically make someone fall in love with you, despite the stories you’ve heard. You can tempt and tease desire and passion—but from what I’ve seen, real love can’t be conjured. There aren’t any magical shortcuts when it comes to love.”
“What about aphrodisiacs?” he asked.
She twisted her lips to the side, then spoke. “I mean, they work well in a pinch. Aphrodisiacs have been around since ancient times.”
Sirena held up her hand, listing the items on her fingers. “Chocolate-covered strawberries, pomegranate juice, and clover honey can get you in the mood and kick up your desire. But they don’t make your heart race or take your breath away. From what I’ve heard, love can do that.”
What makes your heart race? “You’ve made your share of love potions.”
Sirena chuckled. “I have thought about it, but I chickened out. I guess it isn’t in the cards.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the right time,” he said. Or the right man.
Sirena stared at him with her vivid eyes, pinning him to where he sat. The odd feeling that bothered him yesterday came roaring back. Had he stared into those eyes of hers before—in his dreams? No. He pushed that feeling away. Here he was, seeing something that probably wasn’t there.
She played with her place setting. “So, what are your next steps? If Ms. Juliette was a kitchen witch who wrote down everything she made, then this journal is… priceless.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “I’ll ensure that the journal wasn’t stolen or taken from a family member.”
She frowned. “It could’ve been stolen?”
His expression grew tight with anger.
“It happens. People think that they can make a quick dollar selling a rare book they’ve stolen. Someone might panic and try to pass on the book by trying to donate it.”
Sirena let out a seemingly concerned groan. “Do you think that’s the reason you were sent this cookbook?”
Gus paused. “My gut tells me no, but I have to check.”
Since Gus took over as a steward at the historical society, he lived by his personal motto: Everything in its right place. He spent his own money and hired a local private investigator to follow up with any anonymous donations that he received. Gus wanted to do right by the anonymous gift and make sure the Saybrooke journal was cared for by the society.
“I’ll do my best to track the provenance, the record of ownership, of the book,” he said.
“How long does it take to find the record?”
He bobbed his head to the side. “It depends. The process can take a few days or few weeks to get answers, but it’ll work out. Many times, people are happy to have the item returned or will donate it to the society for safekeeping. I record and document the items until I’ve concluded my search.”
A look of awe crossed over her face. “I didn’t know our historical society stored magical items like this journal.”
He set his shoulders as an idea took form. Maybe he had a proposal for her. “The society has plenty of other culinary notes and items that need TLC. We have a whole bookshelf filled with donated cookbooks. I’ve been looking for a contemporary expert to help me make sense of everything, but… I’ve been busy.”
Busy trying to find your replacement , he privately grumbled.
“I like hearing about cool stuff like this. I wish you had called me,” she said regretfully.
Gus stared at the water glass, hating to hear the regret in her voice. “You seemed busy. I didn’t want to bother you with something so…” His voice trailed off into silence and he lowered his chin. Recognizable words people said about him and his preservation work popped into his head. Boring. Useless. Mundane. Gus snapped his head up and focused on the curious gleam in Sirena’s eye. She didn’t find him mundane, but she saw the spark he thought he lost years ago.
He was still the steward of the society, and he could do what he wanted. Invite her in.
“If you’re interested in the consulting job, it’s yours,” he said. “You can make your own hours. I’m flexible. You can start this afternoon, if you’d like.”
Shock drove Sirena’s head back against the booth. “No. I’m hiring you to help me. How are you paying me to help you?”
Gus winked. “I’m just that good, chef.”
She let out a big laugh. “I haven’t cooked in a professional kitchen in a long time. I’m hardly a chef. I appreciate the job offer,” she said.
“So, do you accept?”
She paused, then gave him a curt nod. “I accept, but I need help with my fun problem. Can that issue be part of our deal?”
He stilled. He understood the fun trap. How many times had he been called on to “get the party started” or act the fool to ease the tension? He wasn’t going to lead her down the primrose path of easy gratification. Fun times ended quickly, and all you were left with were remorse and an empty life. Sirena Caraway didn’t need his help learning how to have fun, because he’d seen glimpses of fun in her and could list them for her.
Last summer he could’ve spent the entire day at the Shore Shack just basking in her lively sunshine energy. Their brief time they’d spent at the Harvest Festival had been the most amusing time he’d spent with another person in weeks. Right now, in this booth, he was having fun talking to her about love potions and kitchen witch journals. There was no need to put on airs or illusions with her. He could just be still. Whoever had the nerve to think that she wasn’t fun deserved to be trapped in a room with week-old fish and wet socks. He didn’t want to take advantage of her. It didn’t feel right teaching her about a power she already had but probably didn’t recognize.
“We can talk about it later,” he said.
Her voice was silky but laced with iron. “Do you want to have fun with me, August?”
Whoa. His pulse quickened at the question. Something hot and fiery pounded through his bloodstream. She’d never said his first name before—ever. It was always “Gus” if she was feeling friendly or “Mr. Dearworth” if she was annoyed with him. Not many people called him by his full name—they automatically shortened his name or assumed that he preferred his nickname. But the way she said his name with a hint of huskiness and exasperation zinged through his chest. Gus swallowed deeply, keeping his desire in check.
He liked the way he felt when she was around.
Did he want to have fun? Absolutely. But he wasn’t going to be Good-Time Gus.
He was going to be better than the careless man he used to be.
“Yes, I do,” he said carefully. “But we need to establish ground rules.”
Her eyes tightened; then, after a second, she nodded. “Okay.”
Gus stroked his beard. “I decide when and where we have fun. I won’t push you. We’re not doing anything dangerous or unethical. You tell me when to stop.”
“I won’t tell you to stop,” she said roughly.
A wave of heat washed over him when she said those words. He could imagine her whispering those words while he leaned in to capture her mouth with his. Maybe there was a little magic in his apple cider because he was feeling strange. Gus scooped up his glass of water and guzzled it until it was empty. He slid the glass to the edge, hoping for a refill.
She pursed her full lips at him. “I’ll tell you ‘play’ if I’m game and ‘pause’ if it’s too much.”
His jaw twitched as the heat wave became a whole ocean and threatened to overwhelm him. He was going to need to drink the whole damn pitcher to quell this feeling. The trickster he’d kept in check for so long was finally going to come out, and there was a witch who was going to play with him. He’d help her have fun, but with rules in place.
Yes, but rules were meant to be bent and broken.
He nodded. “Sounds good. You don’t have to pay me a dime. I’m yours.” Gus was surprised at how chill he sounded, despite the anticipation rushing through his bloodstream. He could do this job.
Sirena gave him a side-eye. “Just to be clear, Dearworth, this is a business deal.”
“Yes, chef,” he murmured.
She waved him off. “I’m treating you this morning, so put your wallet away.”
“We’ll see.” He’d use a sleight-of-hand trick to get the check paid before she could get out her debit card.
She lifted her chin. “Are you always this stubborn?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he mused.
Mimi returned to their table, holding up her order pad. “Are you ready to order?”
Sirena glanced at the menu, then gave Mimi a sweet grin. “I’ll have the cinnamon roll. I have a taste for something soft and sweet.”
He mentally slapped a hand over his mouth. Don’t flirt with her. This job is business, not pleasure.
Mimi scribbled something down on her order pad, then looked at Gus. “Let me guess. You’ll have Belgian waffles with sliced strawberries, two pats of butter, syrup on the side, with turkey bacon and orange juice.”
Was Ms. Mimi going to tell him the color of his boxers next? He felt his face flush with humiliation.
Gus forced an amused tone into his voice. “Am I that boring?”
Was he getting too stale and predictable?
Mimi winked at him; her grin softened. “No, hon. You’re just a creature of habit. There’s nothing wrong with that. My Henry, bless him, has made his coffee the same way since we were newlyweds. Thirty-five years, and he’s always had his coffee with cream and two sugars, no more, no less.”
There was comfort in the predictable routine, but also there was the possibility of losing that taste for adventure. Did Gus want that? If Sirena was going to have a little fun, he could join her just a little. He had rules and he had his head on straight. It would be fine.
“Maybe it’s time for a change.” He closed his eyes and randomly pointed to something on the menu. Gus opened them and read out what food his finger landed on. Mimi nodded with approval, scribbled it down, then left their table. Gus peered at Sirena, who stared at him over the privacy of their booth. There was a mixture of glee and interest in her stare. His heart tumbled and flipped in his chest as if it had been placed inside a warm dryer.
“I see you, August,” she said.
“I see you too, Sirena,” he responded.