Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
When I woke up, my head was surprisingly clear, and I was ravenous.
I tucked into toast, eggs, and bacon while Cosmo barely nibbled his dried cat food.
He said he had no appetite for his usual chicken or fish.
"Maybe I should take you to the vet," I pondered.
He swiped his paw at me. "Can't a cat be off his food after a really exhausting night?"
"You feel after effects too?"
"What do you expect? I may be a slightly higher being than most of the ones you are dealing with, but I still have limitations. Very, very different limitations than most humans, naturally."
"Naturally," I agreed. I blew him a kiss.
"What was that for?" he asked.
"Thanking you for showing me a few things and making me believe in myself."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he said.
"I'm not."
My hand itched to take my phone and send a jubilant message to my daughter, but I did not, because I had restraint.
Also, I really wanted to make sure that Detective Stone had tied up all the loose ends in a nice bow before I casually mentioned to Alex that I'd been instrumental in avenging Aunt Violet and old Jake.
"I'm going out," I declared after I’d cleared the dishes and carried them to the dishwasher.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I just told you."
"Have you sorted the important things from the non-important?" He nodded towards the sink.
"Yes, I have." I gave him another mock salute. It was fast becoming a habit. "Hands have to be clean. Anything to do with the spells or magic is washed in the sink. Everything else can go in the dishwasher, like your food bowls."
He grumbled.
Did he feel lonely without company? "If you want to keep me here, just say so."
"No, no, we’re good to go. We only need to make sure to keep up your energy."
“I’m feeling great, now that I’ve had my breakfast.” I picked up the book of spells and repeated the words on the first page again. A spatula rose a few inches into the air and floated gently back into its old spot.
I flipped over the page. What had been blank before was now starting to be covered in... drawings? And—were those letters or symbols?
I squinted. They did not become clearer.
"They haven’t been here before, right?" I asked Cosmo, although I already knew the answer.
"Things will appear once you're ready for them. And not before."
He peered at the spell. "Oh, that’s a good one."
"You’re not going to tell me more, I assume?"
"You guess correctly. And now we’re going out." He pointed toward his harness.
"You’re coming along?"
"Oh yes," he said. "Because I want to hear if anybody else is mentioning me hunting birds—which I never have and never will." His fur bristled.
Because nothing says calm and carefree like window shopping, I took Cosmo to Main Street.
Sweet Surprise was the preferred gossiping stop, but for those inclined to have their cake and eat it at home, nothing beat Bibi's Bakery. Her cakes and pies and cannoli and profiteroles might not have been magical, but they sure were addictive.
I practically drooled over a coffee and walnut cake in the window.
Cosmo rubbed himself against my legs.
Reluctantly, I tore myself away after promising myself a gigantic slab of pie once I had the leisure to enjoy it. Baking for the library was more than enough for this fledgling witch. I didn’t mind leaving the real deal to the professionals.
Next door was a craft shop that offered quilting lessons, sewing instructions, a knitting circle, and anything else under the sun that you could do with your hands, apart from major surgery.
I strolled on.
And then I stopped. I’d come smack up against the one person I hoped I’d never see again.
Linda Chiltern, née Hawthorne, and Mimi's most fervent style follower, had been the record scratch in the anthem of my youth, ever since I first set foot in high school. She was a fifth-generation Willowmere resident, which made her the next best thing to royalty. And boy, did she like to show it.
She’d been cheerleader, prom queen, and teacher’s pet, apart from a few select ones, like Ms. Vine, who joined the resistance. It wasn’t that easy for them, considering that her mother was the PTA president, and her grandfather had been the mayor.
She clutched her chest that, like the rest of her, was as shapely as genes and cosmetic surgery allowed. "Rebecca Meriwether. It is you. I hardly recognized you."
She glanced at my hair, probably comparing it to her honey-blonde ringlets.
"How cute is that?" she gushed. "And such a brave choice!
Most people try to hide their age, but no, not you.
You were always the real deal—true to yourself, to your wrinkles, and to a little bit of padding. " She patted her slim hips.
I caught a whiff of expensive perfume that seemed familiar. Willpower allowed me to stop myself from inhaling it.
"And how are you?" I asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she prattled on. "I heard about your husband. I'm so, so sorry, but I'm quite sure happiness is just around the corner for you. We do have a number of retired gentlemen available, and they would appreciate a fresh-faced woman like you."
I still grinned, although my jaw was starting to ache.
"But I mustn't stand here gossiping," she said. "I’ve just returned from the most amazing cruise and I’m busy as a bee.
We have to meet up soon, and then I'll tell you all about it.
I'm only glad that my husband had to stay behind, or he would have been jealous over all these men chasing me. Not that I’d ever even look at them.
But I've got to admit, it is flattering. "
She stretched out an arm and waved.
I wasn’t sure if that display was meant for Brad, who I spotted striding along on the other side of the road, or for my sake—because she displayed not just an elegant tan but also a diamond tennis bracelet that must have weighed a ton.
That thing had to cost more than my car. One of the perks of marrying into a jewelry store.
She lowered her voice. "Have you met him yet?"
"Who?"
"Brad," she said, in what I could only describe as a throaty whisper.
"I saw him at the Blue Moon," I said.
"Of course," she said. "You and those gals were always inseparable. Anyway, Bex. It's so good to see you. We really have to catch up." Her gaze still clung to Brad’s back.
"I’ve heard he's got magical hands," I said. Did she blush?
"I wouldn’t know. I'm happily married."
And I was the Queen of England.
Mind you, her husband had always struck me as a decent sort—apart from his taste in women. But we can’t all be as wise as I was now.
She leaned in for an air kiss. "Say hi to the gals."
"I will."
I risked a quick glance at the sky. Blue as far as I could see and not a single rain cloud that could have spoiled Linda's perfect day.
On the other hand, she had selected a spot right underneath a sprawling chestnut tree.
Please let this work.
I gave her my widest grin yet, one that threatened to split my face in two, and concentrated. Silently, I recited the spell.
"Ouch!" She clutched her head.
Three chestnuts had bounced off it.
"Oh, Linda. Are you hurt?" I asked.
"No, I'm fine." She glared at the tree. "I'll have to talk to someone about this."
"What do you mean?"
"What if this had happened to one of our dear little children?"
"It's the season. Chestnuts fall, other stuff comes down. It's nature."
She glared at the tree again.
I had to check in with Cosmo if there was some kind of protection spell for the tree. As much as I’d enjoyed seeing her wince for once instead of just me feeling the pain, I wouldn’t put it past her to whip out a chainsaw and take her revenge.
Note to self: next time, think about consequences.
I should have added another note. Because a haughty spirit comes before a fall.
Literally.
Linda turned around so abruptly that I stumbled as I stepped aside and had to catch myself against the wall. In the process, I banged my knee.
Luckily, Linda had already turned her back to me and wasn’t watching my pathetic performance.
A young man was, though.
"Are you okay?" He reached for my arm to steady me, his dark eyes glancing at me in concern. With his longish hair and broad shoulders, he was the local high school heartthrob.
He would also have been my main suspect—if it hadn’t been for Pamela and Jimmy..
The boy who’d come to my rescue was Kyle, the infamous joyrider and grandson of Doc Hansen.