Chapter 18
JAMIE
Ihaven’t heard from Blaire in five days, and it’s felt like an eternity.
I’m convinced she is my karma because so many times, the tables have been turned.
Usually, I have control. Right now, I’ve lost it, and I don’t know what to think about that.
I’ve kept myself busy, hoping this isn’t the end of us. It can’t be.
This morning, I clear the kitchen island, and I lay out my instructions.
It’s three pages of a printed spell. In front of me is salt and a candle that might be for decorative purposes only.
I start with the protection spell because things are too quiet.
This usually happens right before the bottom completely falls out.
I write my full name on a piece of paper and circle it in salt.
Then I close my eyes, trying to feel some sort of energetic push. Nothing happens.
I shrug and move to the next one—a love spell.
I grab the candle and visualize the woman of my dreams, just as I’m instructed. Then I strike the match and light the wick. The candle immediately goes out.
So, I light it again. It catches, holds, and burns out again. I check for a draft, but the air is still. I stand in my brother’s kitchen for a while, holding a burned match, trying not to take it as a bad omen.
I put everything away, understanding that some spells don’t get to be cast. Blaire told me she wouldn’t ever cast a love spell for me. Maybe it’s because she can’t. Maybe no one can. Guess I’ll have to win over the woman of my dreams the mortal way.
My phone vibrates, and I reach for it so fast that I almost knock over my espresso. I’m disappointed to see it’s just my brother.
Patterson
You alive?
Jamie
I think so.
Patterson
Fair warning: Kendall thinks you moved to Colorado to join a cult.
Jamie
Not a cult. But I have been hanging out with a witch.
Patterson
Please tell me this is a seasonal joke.
Jamie
This is a seasonal joke.
Patterson
Really?
Jamie
No.
Patterson
What does “hanging out” mean? Sex?
Jamie
Just a flirty fall fling.
Patterson
Be on your best behavior, Jamie. Don’t fuck up your position with the foundation. Wait until your contract is signed before you start playing games.
Jamie
I’ve got it under control. Trust me.
Patterson
Yeah, I’ve heard that before.
The email from the board has been sitting in my inbox since last week with an important flag next to it.
I’ve left it unopened because I’m actually taking my vacation.
I finally open it at the kitchen counter.
The attachment has all the key talking points about renewing my contract as the face of the organization.
Right now, I’m only concerned that November is one month from today. That means Blaire and I only have thirty days left to be together, and then we’ll walk away from one another, just as we promised.
I’m a skeptic, but I’ve also found myself reading articles about The Fool, Nine of Cups, and The Tower card this week. Every one of them has confirmed what she said.
I lock my phone and drive down the mountain because staying up here in this big-ass house alone doesn’t help.
Roasted Bean at two in the afternoon smells like icing.
“The usual?” the barista asks because I’m basically a regular now.
I nod, pay, then wait at the end of the counter.
“… called her a circus act,” a woman by the window tells her friend, “in front of the whole square.”
“No.” The other lady gasps.
“And that little cousin of hers came out swinging. Pointed her finger and everything, then shooed her away. Josie, I think, is her name.”
My interest piques. They’re talking about Blaire, and then I register what the woman said. Someone called her a circus act.
“Blaire was a class act through it all. Not sure I would’ve been had Maren spoken to me that way. Flora would’ve been so proud.”
As I listen to each conversation being had, it’s clear how protective the town is of Blaire. I add a dash of cream to my coffee and keep my expression neutral.
The door rings overhead, and Blaire walks through the door like I manifested her. My heart pitter-patters when I see her. She’s wearing a hunter-green coat with her hair down. I’m in the corner with my hat pulled down low, and she doesn’t see me yet.
A guy walks in and gets in line behind her. He’s wearing a flannel with the Xander Ski Resort logo on the chest. He notices her and says something that I can’t hear.
Blaire turns and grins back at him with a nod.
They hold a conversation, and jealousy bubbles inside of me. It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen her, and she’s looking gorgeous.
He laughs loudly, and Blaire looks pleased with herself. A stranger in flannel gets her attention without trying.
I sip my coffee because I made the rules back when I believed thirty days would be easy. Right now, I hate every second of this.
She gives him another smile, and I relax because I recognize her customer-service smile. It’s the same one she hands out at the shop when a tourist asks if her readings are real.
I cross to the condiment station for a napkin I don’t need. From there, I can hear better.
“So, what’s your specialty?” the guy asks her.
“Coffee grounds, mostly. And tarot.”
“What about love readings? Asking for a friend.” He winks.
My nostrils flare.
“Every reading’s a love reading if you’re not careful.”
He flirts too much. His buddy watches from a table by the door and shakes his head.
“Okay, so how do I book one? Or maybe you could join me later? The bar at the resort makes a decent old-fashioned. I have a feeling you’d be a good time.”
“Blaire,” the barista says, sliding the large coffee across the wooden counter.
“It was nice meeting you,” Blaire says to the guy, leaving his offer hanging.
She grabs her cup and walks straight toward me. I hold very still, angling my body away from her. She reaches past me for the cinnamon shaker, dusts her drink, and sets it back down. Her arm brushes mine, and tingles shoot through me.
“The hat isn’t hiding you from anyone. Especially not me,” she says quietly without meeting my eyes. Then she pushes the door open with her hip and walks out into the afternoon without looking back.
I glance down, shaking cinnamon on my coffee, then smile into my cup.
The resort guy drops into the chair across from his buddy.
“She was hot,” the buddy says. “I might go get her number.”
“You didn’t? She was into you.”
“Maybe. Hmm. Maybe I’ll work up enough courage to go into her shop.”
I finish my coffee at a table, watching the leaves rustle across the sidewalk. Every day, it’s gotten a tad colder.
Doris Jean sits by the door with a newspaper, but she hasn’t turned a page since I walked in.
She speaks as I pass, without looking up.
“Maze opens tonight at the festival. The orchard puts it on. The whole town goes. It’s tradition to do the maze right at dark.
” She turns the page, not talking to anyone in particular, but I know it’s for me.
“Thanks,” I say on my way out, patting her shoulder.
The Mustang sits half a block down the road, and I walk toward it, wanting to kill some time before dark. There’s a piece of paper tucked under the driver’s side wiper. At first, I think maybe it’s a parking ticket, but then I realize it has lines. It’s notebook paper.
I unfold it.
I want to see you.
There’s no signature, but I don’t need one to know who it is. Blaire.
I try to hold back my smile, wishing I could ask her when. Sooner rather than later, I hope. Our time is running out.
I get in the car, put the top down, and decide to take the scenic loop that goes over the mountain on one side to Cozy Creek on the other, then keeps going. The views of the colorful trees are iconic, the reason why people like my brother buy million-dollar mansions up the ridge.
It’s fifty degrees out with the top down, and I don’t care because the season is short. The road climbs out of Pine Haven with aspens fluttering in the breeze on both sides. Loose leaves blow across the pavement at every curve.
At some point, I get stuck behind a group of people with rental plates who don’t know how to drive in the mountains. I don’t mind how slow they’re going or the excessive braking. It forces me to slow down and enjoy the fresh air and quiet.
At the overlook above Cozy Creek, I pull off and read the note again. She could’ve texted me, but instead, she wrote it on paper and slid it under my windshield wiper. Anyone could’ve seen. I tuck it back in my jacket pocket.
The loop brings me down the back side of the mountain right as the sun drops behind the ridge.
I drive to the edge of the town square, where the hay maze and pumpkin patch have been set up.
There isn’t a parking space available. I have to park several blocks away and walk across the grounds, where the line is twisting to enter.
String lights hang overhead, lighting the path.
A pie table is near the entrance, and its line runs longer than the one for the maze. When I glance over, I see Josie, Blaire’s cousin.
“Hi! You again. Are you becoming a local?” Josie asks as she takes care of customers. She’s good at multitasking.
“You bake?” I ask.
She hands me a small slice. “Just kinda started.”
I take a bite of the pumpkin pie and laugh. “Wow. This is great.”
“I’ll save you one,” she tells me, setting a box to the side. “Go through the maze first.”
“Deal,” I tell her.
“It’s Jamie, right?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, confirming it for her.
She writes my name on the outside of the box. “It’s got your name on it. Means it’s yours.”
“Thanks.”
Kids laugh with happiness. In the distance, sparks rise off the bonfire. All of Pine Haven is in attendance, and each person has a cup of apple cider. This is the epitome of small-town life. It’s different from anything I’m used to, but I find myself enjoying it.
I’m let inside the maze, and I walk through, eventually taking the wrong turn and ending up at a dead end. All I can do is smile when I see dark hair and a green jacket.
She turns and looks at me, then smiles. “I manifested you.”
Yes, she did.