Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
T he Caraways strolled through the massive book aisles of the Rain or Shine Bookstore, scanning the tote bags and checking out the racks filled with bookish apparel. Cotton cobwebs decorated shoulder-high bookshelves, end displays, and tall shelves along the walls, which were filled with bestselling and local books. Ursula read the message on the large tote bag: “‘Readers are never alone. They always have books.’”
Lucy chuckled. “I like that.”
Sirena eyed a sweatshirt that said “Read More Romance” with a couple embracing in a passionate kiss in front of a castle backdrop. Her lips still burned from their contact with Gus’s cheek, and his sweet words played in her brain. Talking to him had conjured up her imagination and inspired her to revisit the curio shop to get that pretty snow globe after she left the Farmers Square. The shop owner informed her, to her disappointment, the globe had been purchased that morning. Next time, she’d get lucky and find another snow globe that spoke to her imagination.
Callie approached a bookseller. “Excuse me, where can I find your wedding planning guides?”
The bookseller, whose name tag read “Edwina,” gestured over to the bookshelf on the left wall. “Try the self-help and relationships section.”
They went over to that area. Sirena read a book spine. Friend, Lover, or Bedfellow? Label Your Relationship.
The universe was speaking to her heart. Callie’s annoyed grumble caught Sirena’s attention.
Their baby sister needed her help. “Is there something you want to tell us, Callie?”
Callie spoke over her shoulder. “I need help with my client Gigi. She changed her mind again at our emergency meeting. She wants a tropical-themed wedding, but she doesn’t like pineapple, mango, colorful flowers, or bright patterns.”
Sirena made a stunned sound. “Does she know what tropical means?”
Callie squawked in fury. “Don’t start. I’m already dealing with that new Enchanted Events emailing my clients and offering steep discounts. Those decorating elves are getting on my last nerve.”
Ursula checked her phone. “Hey, y’all. I can’t stay too long. We’re running a full-moon sale. I’ve got to double-check whether we have enough candles. Xavier says we’ve got plenty, but I don’t want to risk running out.”
“How’s that fae of yours?” Lucy asked.
Ursula’s eyes crinkled and took on a faraway look. “He’s great. He’s taking a woodworking class. He’s learning how to make a spice rack and next month he’ll make us a bookshelf.”
“Ugh, I’m totally not jealous and I’m happy for you,” Sirena said teasingly. Seriously, she was a little jealous, but she knew what Ursula went through to get her fae prince. It was nice to see her cousin get her literal happily-ever-after.
Ursula gave Sirena a big hug. “You’re next,” she sang. “You’re going to find your prince.”
Sirena bit her tongue. Ursula lived the soft-princess life, but Sirena leaned into the witch-in-the-dark-woods life. She wasn’t above eating mushroom melts and foraging for herbs in the community garden. Sirena didn’t vibe with the fairy tales that had royalty and happy endings but liked the ones with charms and dangerous magic. She might not find her prince, but she’d settle for a rogue who would whisk her away on his horse.
Would she ever find that storybook type of love?
Callie’s voice interrupted Sirena’s thoughts. “Pause the prince talk, fam! Start looking for wedding advice books. I’m one bad cake tasting away from losing this client and I can’t afford to lose this job.”
Poe came over to the shelf with a wide smile on their face. They were dressed in a button-down shirt covered in bats and light blue jeans. “Hey, Caraways.”
Everyone returned Poe’s greeting.
“How’s business?” Sirena asked.
Their face took on a light of pride. “Business is good. We’re starting up our book club in January. Sales are strong, and we’ve been given an award from the Independent Bookstore Society.”
“That’s great,” Sirena said.
“We’ve been talking about opening a second location in Meadowdale to serve the college students, but…” Poe winced. “Rent’s not cheap.”
“I’m sure you can get a small business grant to help out with expenses,” Ursula said. “The chamber of commerce might be able to hook you up with resources. Email me.”
Poe nodded. “Thanks, Sula. I’d appreciate that.”
“Poe, are these all the books you have on relationships?” Callie asked, her words tinged with exasperation. “I don’t see the book I need, which came out this week.”
Poe grimaced. “I’ll double-check the back stock, but these are all the books we have in-store. It is cuffing season, and these books have been flying off the shelves.”
The words “cuffing season” kicked off an image of Gus sitting next to her in the Farmers Square. His cologne, spicy and rich, like leather-bound books, loitered in her senses. His beard was oiled and neatly clipped. His voice echoed in her mind. They seek their mate in the fall to keep them warm in the winter. There was something so appealing about the word “mate”; she felt a sense of restlessness about being uncuffed.
Callie glared at the shelf. “I don’t have time to drive to the Seaview Square Mall to get this freaking book. I’m meeting with Gigi and Dorian, the groom, tomorrow night.”
“Why don’t you just ask her what’s going on?” Lucy asked.
Callie’s mouth twisted upward. “I did. She said she hired me to be her planner, not to pretend to be her friend. I can’t force Gigi to tell me what’s going on with her.”
“You could give her a special tea to loosen her up,” Ursula said.
Sirena turned to her. “You’re not talking about dosing her with a truth potion.”
Ursula’s jaw dropped a fraction. “No, cuz. I’m talking about making a special calming blend. One part each of chamomile, rosehips, and lemon balm. Shake, combine, and serve two tablespoons per cup. Planning a wedding is super hectic. You can’t be too bossy, or you’ll be called a monster. If you don’t make decisions, you’ll be seen as a flake or uninterested. Gigi needs someone to help her make decisions. Give her a big cup of tea and listen.”
Callie peered at Ursula, impressed. “Are you sure you don’t want to come work with me?”
“Thanks, but I’m happy where I am. I’ll leave the planning to you.”
Poe jumped into the conversation. “I have a plan. I’m getting married by a Prince impersonator.”
Lucy perked up. “Oh, are you engaged?”
Poe shook their head. “I’m single all the way, but I’m prepared. You never know when a billionaire might need you to fake a sham marriage to claim his inheritance. One bed, one stormy night, and bam —you’ve got your happily-ever-after.”
Poe’s declaration sent the Caraways into a fit of bubbly laughter. Theo, their business partner, came from the back room, carrying a box. He placed it on the display table and glanced around at their smirking and giggling faces. “Do I even want to know?”
“We’re talking about marrying desperate billionaires,” Poe said. “Do you know any?”
“No, but I do know a few cash-strapped graduate students who have big feelings about the Gothic.” Theo, dressed in a B horror movie T-shirt and jeans, took out a box cutter from his back pocket and cut open the box.
He pulled out some hardcovers and placed them on the table in a neat stack. “Sounds like Poe’s been reading romance again.”
“Again? I never stopped.” Poe shot a cunning look at Theo. He held back a grin as he said, “Who’s getting hitched?”
Lucy pointed to herself. A flash of surprise went over Theo’s face, but he schooled it back into place. “I thought you and Alex were already married.”
Lucy gave an uncomfortable look. “No, we’re still just engaged.”
“Sorry, my fault. Y’all have that whole ‘we’ve been together for, like, ten years’ energy.”
Sirena moved closer to Lucy, who had tensed at Theo’s well-meaning words. How many times had Lucy heard the same sentence repeatedly over the last year and a half?
“That special energy just means that you’re probably soulmates,” Ursula said confidently. “There’s a chance you’ve known each other across decades or even centuries. I bet you were married to Alex back in the Byzantine Empire with the blessings of the emperor.”
Lucy sighed. “Thanks for the support, Sula. I’m trying to get married in this lifetime.”
Sirena raised a single brow at Ursula. “You believe in soulmates.”
All these years, she hadn’t heard her cousin express any belief in the soul connection idea. She thought she knew everything about Ursula, but this information was a little surprising.
“I live above a psychic shop with my boyfriend who’s a fae prince who talks to plants. I’m a whole crystal witch. Of course I believe in soulmates. Don’t you?”
Good question. Her mind struggled to answer it. She knew magic existed because she’d been practicing it since she had hair barrettes. Sirena had heard the legend of the Caraway soul click, but she thought it was just a family fairy tale. She’d had flings and romances, but she’d never felt her soul connect with any of her lovers or boyfriends. Maybe her soul was meant to be alone, like that single sock in her dresser without its mate.
Lucy took out her phone and checked the screen. She growled.
“Mom’s texting about invitations. We don’t even have a location! We’re this close to throwing up balloons in the backyard. I emailed Gus, but I haven’t heard from him yet.”
A flash of guilt went through Sirena when she heard Lucy’s words. She’d been so busy daydreaming and thinking about Gus that she had forgotten to update Lucy about the rental conversation.
Theo shared a private look with Poe, who gave a small nod of support.
He faced Lucy. “I know we’re not fancy, but you can get married in the store.”
Poe grunted in agreement. “Yes, you can. You did such a fabulous job designing Rain or Shine, the least we can do is offer our space. It would be our honor to have it here.”
A sense of warm gratitude filled Sirena at their selfless offer. No wonder the bookstore was so successful; the owners welcomed people into their space wholeheartedly.
Lucy let out a slow breath. “Thank you so much, but we can’t fit everyone in here. Mama Dwyer wants to invite fifty merfolk to the ceremony alone.”
Theo nodded. “I get it.”
“But we do need wedding favors, and I’d love to buy all my guests gifts from your store,” Lucy said. “Can y’all help me select a few budget-friendly options?”
Theo clapped his hands. “Leave it to me. I’ve got you.”
Poe coughed. “No, we’ve got you.”
Poe and Theo went to the other side of the store, where the bookish merch and items were neatly arranged.
“Why don’t we ask Whitney to host the wedding?” Ursula suggested. “She loves to plan.” Whitney was Xavier’s faery godmother, who lived in a Gilded Age mansion on the edge of the Grove. Sirena had only seen pictures, but the house, with its wide rooms and crown molding, looked like a glamorous Architectural Digest video.
Lucy frowned. “We’d have to decorate the whole space. Parking would be an issue.”
Ursula winced. “Oh, right. I don’t even want to know how many flowers you’ll need.”
“Do you know how much a wedding costs in New Jersey?” Lucy asked.
“I remember,” Ursula muttered. She gave a number that made Sirena’s eyes water. That was a lot of money, like down-payment-on-a-house money.
Ursula gave Lucy a quick hug. “I’m going to repeat my advice to you. Make a cup of tea, get your favorite snack, and talk to Alex about what you want and what you can afford.”
Ursula kissed her cousins and left them in the self-help aisle. Callie’s phone went off loudly in the store. The ringtone sounded like a warning klaxon.
“It’s Gigi.” Callie took the phone call outside. Lucy and Sirena were the only ones left in the aisle.
Lucy spoke in a hushed voice. “I spoke to Alex after breakfast. Don’t say anything, but we’re pushing back the wedding.”
Sirena’s heart ached. “Oh, sis. For how long?”
Lucy continued, her voice on the edge of irritation. “We’re thinking of pushing it back another six or nine months. We’ve hit a few money bumps, but we’re fine. I mean, most couples are engaged for a year or more, so it’s not unusual. We’ll get back on track.”
“I thought you were saving up,” Sirena said.
“There’s barely anything in our wedding fund. I got only partial salary when I was on leave. Alex is waiting on a few large payments from his freelance jobs, but these companies take their time to pay him. We own the house, but there are still unexpected costs.”
“I can imagine.” The century-old Caraway house was filled with love and familial magic, but the roof and rain gutters needed constant, expensive care. Sirena had dipped into savings to cover house repairs and sudden issues, and she was aware that Lucy and Alex had similar house troubles. The repair van seemed to be constantly parked outside their home.
Lucy fiddled with her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger with her thumb.
“One of the gnomes, Half-Pint, heard the septic tank acting up, so we had to get that fixed. Then we found the pipes were rotting. Do you know how much copper pipes cost?! Oh, I wish I could wiggle my nose and bam , make everything perfect, but I’m not that powerful.”
Lucy shot Sirena a pained look that hurt her down to her bones. Her wonderful big sister had gotten everything that she wished for, but it seemed that she was struggling to find balance. Sirena was going to help Lucy, come hawthorn or hurricane water.
Sirena nudged her shoulder. “Listen. I ran into Gus, and the historical society is available to be rented out in December, but you have to book it now.”
Lucy’s eyes bugged out. “Today’s October eighth.”
“Trust me, I know the date.” Sirena only had twenty-three days to fix her life, but she could at least do what she could to help Lucy.
“You want me to plan a whole wedding in less than ninety days?” Lucy said these words in a horrified tone as if Sirena suggested that Lucy feed the gnomes right before a full moon. No one fed the gnomes during that crazy lunar time unless they wanted their house painted lime green and their lawn ornaments arranged in erotic positions.
Sirena tented her hands together. “It can be done. What’s your budget?”
Lucy rocked back and forth. “Hopes and dreams is our current price range. Seriously, we have enough money for a nice vacation but not enough for a big wedding.”
“Make it a Freya Grove elopement!” Sirena insisted.
“That’s not what an elopement is!” Lucy hissed. “You can’t just change the meaning of words whenever you want. If we’re eloping, then we’d have tickets to Las Vegas and a honeymoon suite. You can’t plan to elope; it’s spontaneous! It’s romantic!”
Callie popped up from behind a bookshelf. “Did I hear the word ‘elope’?”
“Shh,” Lucy hissed. She waved her sisters toward the front door and took them outside the bookstore. “Our sister is trying to convince me to plan a December wedding.”
Callie glanced up at the sky briefly, then faced Lucy. “We can make it happen. I’ll make it happen for you, but you’ve got to let Alex know what you’re thinking.”
“Call him,” Sirena said. “Now.”
Something in Sirena’s voice must have gotten to Lucy, because she gave her an alarmed stare. Lucy pulled out her phone and dialed Alex’s number. Callie and Sirena moved away to give Lucy some privacy. There was a hushed conversation, but after a few minutes, Lucy hung up the phone.
“So, what did he say?”
Lucy appeared spellbound, as if she’d been hit with a faery godmother’s wand.
“It looks like you’re getting a new binder, Cal! We’re getting married in December!”
Sirena let out a grateful squeal and hugged Lucy tightly. The wedding countdown was on.
It was official.
Sirena was obsessed with everything about the Saybrooke journal. The cover, the table of contents, and even the drawings gave her pause and made her trill with glee. She’d been reading so long in the library chair that her butt was getting numb. The journal was smaller than their family spellbook, and the pages were covered in different spills, bits of flowers, and pasted-in items.
It was stuffed with a lifetime of knowledge about kitchen witchery, from making burnt food poppets to sauces that elevated dishes. Sirena stopped on the page titled “Sauces, Dips, and Blends,” checking out the possible combinations. Ooh, there was a recipe that used clover honey. A meal of shore croquettes with that honey sauce would absolutely impress the Lighthouse hiring manager. Sirena took out her notebook from her tote. She wrote down the list of ingredients, making a note: Add some spice to give the sauce some oomph, black pepper, or peppercorn. Her words seemed to sparkle and glow. Hope buoyed her spirits.
Ever since Nana passed away, Sirena felt isolated in her craft, since she was the only practicing kitchen witch in the family. The rules helped guide her within her family, but Sirena yearned for more information to help reignite her spark. Reading Ms. Saybrooke’s recipes gave Sirena a deep sense of connection with a fellow kitchen witch that crossed over time. There were special recipes in this journal that she had only heard about from Nana Ruth. A mixture of grief and anger churned through Sirena the more she read the cookbook. Her talent, generosity, and passion about keeping a hearth and cooking were etched on each page. If Juliette Saybrooke were born a hundred years later and had had half the chances Sirena did, the Food Network might be plugging her next cookbook. She deserved more than what the world would allow her to achieve when she was alive.
The library door creaked opened, and Gus leaned inside. “It’s closing time.”
She made a face. “What? I literally just got here.”
Gus stepped into the library and stood next to her table. “You’ve been here six hours.”
She glanced down at her phone and pressed the screen. Yikes, it was seven o’clock. She wasn’t done yet. There was so much left to look at in the journal, and she was still finalizing her demo meal. Sirena had received an email from Lighthouse informing her that she’d have access to their staple pantry. It was nice to know she wouldn’t have to bring salt and pepper, but she was responsible for bringing her other food and supplies.
“Have you ever thought about writing a cookbook?” he asked.
Sirena reeled back. “No. Why?”
Gus eyed her. “Why not? You’ve got a whole stack of notebooks and recipes in the society that you can use. They’ve all fallen into the public domain, so you can amend and adapt them if you’re interested.”
“Magic Meals in Thirty Minutes,” she quipped. It did sound appealing, but that wasn’t why she was reluctant. No shade to cooks and chefs who published cookbooks, but she wasn’t ready for that step. Sirena wanted to see if she still possessed the talent to run and rule a professional, award-winning kitchen. She was destined to get her perfect job this time around.
The perfect job would keep her in the Grove and keep her close to her family.
Everything was going to work out as long as she followed her plan.
“Thanks, but I’m going to stay focused on the interview,” she said.
Gus was quiet, but Sirena noticed that his mouth had tightened, as if he was holding back a response. He did that a lot, holding his tongue whenever he wanted to add more to the conversation. As if he didn’t want to offend her.
“Say it, Gus. I can take it,” she said.
He regarded her with a discreet glance. “You have the talent it takes to write a cookbook. Keep your options open.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” She touched the journal with a light hand. “I wish I could take this book home.”
That wish wasn’t to be granted, because if Shadow accidentally peed on or damaged the journal, Sirena would probably change her name and leave the Grove. She’d already been so careless with her recipes; she didn’t dare be careless with someone else’s life work.
Gus suddenly had a funny expression on his face. Was there something else he wanted to tell her?
“Well, you could stay the night,” he offered.
“Are you inviting me to sleep over?” she asked playfully.
Gus blinked deliberately, as if his brain shut down and then turned back on. “Um… what… um… I mean is—”
Sirena stood up. “I’m joking. I’ve never seen a magician short-circuit before.”
Gus drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. “I open the library for college students to come study at night during midterms and finals. I keep a sleeping bag just in case anyone wants to camp out here. Most times they end up staying up and studying.”
Sirena eyed the stiff-looking fainting couch in the corner. Her back was already aching just at the idea of sleeping on that pretty but uncomfortable furniture. “I see.”
“I do have an extra room upstairs,” he said.
Hold up. “You live upstairs.”
He nodded. “The historical society steward position includes living accommodations and a living stipend.”
Sirena tossed up her hands. She motioned to the library walls filled with priceless books.
“Okay. Who pays for this place? I mean, this house must cost, like, a million dollars, and the society always hosts the Founders’ Day Festival every year. Does the society have a secret money tree somewhere, or a werewolf billionaire, or what?”
Gus narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes and no.”
“There’s really a werewolf billionaire?!” Sirena’s jaw dropped. Callie was right.
There was a trace of authority in his voice as he spoke. “The Grove was founded by Chance Bridlewood, a business tycoon and one of the richest men of the Gilded Age. He earned his fortune through lucky investments. He was the son of vaudeville performers and didn’t forget his roots. During a visit to the Jersey Shore, he bought five thousand acres where vaudeville entertainers could live. Magical beings heard about the Grove and settled down here. The Grove has been a place where magic has thrived for the last century. No one here is afraid of what goes bump in the night because we’re the ones who revel in the dark.”
His voice dropped to a husky whisper. He spoke with such confidence that Sirena found it hard to breathe. Desire gripped her throat. Was it just her or did he get hotter when he talked about history and magic?
She gave her head a tiny shake. Chill out, lady.
“I didn’t hear anything about a money tree or a werewolf,” she said lightly.
He gave her a patient look. “I’m getting there. Chance and his wife, Hester, didn’t have any children, so he bequeathed his entire fortune to the citizens of the Grove. In his will, he wrote that he wanted his fortune to be a tree that could provide shade for those who needed rest. The historical society was founded and continues to use the money to celebrate Chance’s vision of fun, magic, and amusement. It was part of the original charter that the steward would live in the society building. The top floor is a fully furnished apartment that is maintained by the steward.”
Sirena quickly packed up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
“Why are we here when there’s a couch we could be sitting on? Can we go up there?”
“If you’d like,” he said.
She followed Gus to a hidden stairwell that brought them into the apartment. Hello, comfort. The apartment had a spacious living area, a standard kitchenette, and a full bathroom. There were two bedrooms, one large and one small, toward the back of the building. The walls were decorated with framed posters of old movies and one sheets from classic films. A luxe plum couch was positioned in front of a television and stereo system.
Sirena pointed to the stairway. “Do you ever go to the turret?”
Gus said, “I go there all the time. It’s accessible through the door in the corner. You can see the entire neighborhood and all the way to the ocean.”
“It must be quite the view,” she said.
“If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you up there later,” he proposed. “It’s a nice place to watch the moonrise. You can stay if you like.”
She let herself imagine that they’d climb up into the turret with hot apple ciders and watch the stars come out. Sirena let that brief fantasy disappear from her mind. She was here for business, not cuddles and cider. Besides, she’d asked him if they could stay friends, and she didn’t want to cross that line with him. Get your mind right.
“Thanks for the offer to stay. I don’t have anything to sleep in.”
Gus gave a short nod. “I got you.”
He went into his bedroom and came back holding a long nightshirt covered in dancing hardback books. He handed it to her. She held back a squee. The pattern was so adorable, and the nightshirt smelled of cologne and Gus. There was a good chance he wouldn’t be getting the nightshirt back when she left.
As comfortable as the shirt felt, she still needed to check the size. She, like many Caraway women, was generously shaped with hips, legs, and plenty of body. To paraphrase a certain song, she was thicker than a Snickers ice cream bar on a summer day.
Sirena checked the tag and made a frustrated sound. Her stomach dipped. It was too small, but she might be able to make it work—if she didn’t sit down or drink anything. She didn’t want to risk having an accident and end up flashing her panties to Gus. Nope. No.
“I don’t think it’ll fit,” she said.
His touch was firm as he gently took the nightshirt from her. “Let me check the size.”
Gus held it up and shook it three times, and in a blink the fabric expanded. He handed it back to her. She held the new nightgown to her chest, a trace of his magic still lingering on the fabric.
“Now it’s perfect,” he said, peering at her for a moment. Sirena held the nightgown against her body, as if trying to shield herself from those burning eyes.
“Feel free to keep that shirt,” he said.
She murmured a thank-you to him.
Gus pointed Sirena to an open door on the far wall. “You can change in the bathroom when you’re ready. Make yourself at home.”
Gus was inviting her to stay in his space. She wanted to do something for him and felt brave enough to attempt a grilled cheese sandwich. “Have you eaten yet?”
He made a nah face. “Let’s order out. I know you want to get back to reading the journal. I’ll be in my study finishing up my work. Let’s keep it chill.”
“Okay,” she said. She could do this. Friends stayed over at friends’ houses all the time. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Let me know if there’s anything else that you want or need.”
Her eyes flashed to his lips. I know what I want. Everything pulsed at the idea of kissing him again. She took a mental step back, reminding herself of what was at stake. You don’t have time to mess around with Gus. Land the job, get your life right, then ask him out.
Do everything in the right order.