Chapter Two
Later that morning, Ophelia allowed herself a fifteen-minute iced coffee break before diving into her next task.
When she returned to her studio, she checked her weekend work schedule.
It looked like she was working a full day on Sunday.
In addition to running Healing Artists, Ophelia worked a couple shifts every week at Prytania Botanica, a one-stop shop for all spiritual curiosities and organic tonics.
Her neighbor and now close friend, Avery Dumas, owned the two-year-old shop.
Avery and his grandmother, Delphine, lived in the blue, double-shotgun next door.
Delphine was an older woman with stunning gray-blue hair who was always outside on her rocker, willing to chat.
Ophelia grew to know her quite well during her first year back home.
Back in the day, Delphine—or Madame Delphine as she was known—ran a popular Voodoo shop in the Quarter until she sold it a decade or so ago.
Her shop was the inspiration for Avery’s more modern take on the classic Voodoo emporium.
Through their chats, they discovered that Delphine actually knew Ophelia’s grandmother from their youth.
Ophelia loved the connection between Delphine and Mawmaw and thought it was sweet that she ended up living next door to her grandmother’s friend.
Her grandmother, Mawmaw Ophelia, Ophelia’s namesake, was a Catholic healer or a Traiteur, as the local Cajuns called it.
From the French word traiter, to treat, she was a Traiteuse, but no one used the female noun that Ophelia knew of.
When her Mawmaw lived in New Orleans in her twenties, she and Delphine formed a friendship over different healing practices.
Mawmaw was the matriarch of the family and Ophelia’s favorite person in the entire world.
She felt a twinge of guilt at not visiting her more since she’d moved back to New Orleans.
Oakdale, where she currently resided, was a little over a three-hour drive from her house, and she’d been so busy starting up the non-profit and working at Prytania Botanica.
She made a promise to herself to make more time for Mawmaw.
She missed the Pine House, Mawmaw’s home, named for the hundreds of densely packed pine trees on the property.
Ophelia recalled playing outside with her sisters and their cousin Jack, building forts from fallen branches and running in the creek.
Ophelia and Jack were the oldest of the bunch, and they were fascinated by Mawmaw’s work.
Mawmaw would occasionally let them watch her treat some patients, only small things like warts or croup.
They would concoct plans to purposefully injure themselves so Mawmaw would treat them.
Just a scrape here or a bruise there. Mawmaw eventually caught on and said if they did it again, their punishment would be picking up all the pine needles around the perimeter of the Pine House.
While it was easy for Ophelia to befriend Delphine, Avery was much harder to track down as he was incredibly busy with his shop.
She’d see his tall, round frame hustling in and out of his side of the double shotgun.
He always threw her a smile and that head nod you only see in the South, where they nod up as if to say, “I see you.”
Ophelia knew from her social work studies that establishing a strong community was essential to happiness, and she took moving to New Orleans as serious as any other endeavor. Determined to succeed, she visited Avery’s shop one day.
It was the most magical place she had ever seen. A faded emerald awning topped the windows, which were covered in gold lettering spelling out Prytania Botanica. A warm light emanated from within, and beyond the store window, she could see lush greenery, stacks of books, and rows of candles.
Beyond the painted blue door was a world of magic.
A feeling of warmth, excitement, and wonder filled Ophelia the moment she stepped inside.
The shop was bursting with local art, books, plants, candles, jewelry, trinkets, oils, too many things for her to take in at once.
And there was Avery, towering over the wooden counter, ringing up a customer.
The whole place looked like a cross between a magical farmers’ market and an old-world bookstore.
Ophelia inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of fresh fruit and vegetables mixed with deep incense notes, decaying paper, and cinnamon.
Scents had always affected her, and Prytania Botanica smelled like wonder.
“Well, well, fancy seeing you here,” said Avery with a flourish of his hand.
They knew each other enough by sight, but this was their first formal introduction.
Avery was a larger-than-life man with smooth espresso-colored skin, a wide smile, and style like she had never seen before.
He was wearing an emerald silk button-down with a banana leaf-printed apron.
“I just can’t get over this place. There’s so much to look at. I’m gonna be here a minute,” she told him.
“You better. Take ya time and make sure to check out the smudge sticks. You need to cleanse that new home of yours. Perhaps a cleansing oil and candle, too.”
“Oooh, yes,” Ophelia agreed. “Great idea. Your grandmother must be so proud.”
Avery chuckled. “She is cautiously proud. She doesn’t quite understand the concept of this shop. It’s obviously not a straightforward Voodoo shop like you see in the Quarter, all creepy n’ shit. Attracting weirdos looking to curse their enemies.”
“No, not at all. It’s light and magical. Still has that air of mystery, though.”
“Exactly. It’s meant for locals. Not for fetishizing tourists. Plus, I get tired of the rep Voodoo gets of being dark magic practiced by devil worshipers. This,” said Avery, sweeping his upturned palms around the shop, “combats that stereotype.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job at it,” Ophelia said as she ran a finger over the smooth leather of a hand-painted journal for sale.
“Sha, some days I think I am, and then other days like today, I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking. Like this accounting system I just got. This ish is not my thing.”
Just then, a new customer walked through the door.
Avery threw Ophelia a cheeky grin and left the counter to greet the customer.
Ophelia wandered the store, filling her basket with a rose and sandalwood roll-on perfume oil, a sage cleansing smudge stick, a book on Cajun folklore, and a fixed candle for a fulfilled life.
Ophelia wanted more, but needed to stop at some point, so she brought her items to the front counter. Avery had returned from assisting a customer and stood hunched over his laptop with his brows creased.
“Accounting troubles?” she asked as she placed her basket on the counter.
Avery groaned. “Ya any good with numbers?” He began taking the items out of the basket and ringing them up.
“Actually, yeah. I used to work in finance. I could probably help you.”
“Oh, I was just messin’. Thanks, though, but I think this is my own cross to bear.”
Ophelia hummed in thought. “How about you come over tomorrow? We can sit on the porch and have a drink while I take a look at the system you bought. Maybe I can help you get it all straight and figured out.”
He looked at her like she was insane. “Girl, who wants to spend their Sunday night doing this mind-numbing chore?”
Ophelia laughed. “Literally no one, but I’m weirdly good at numbers, and you look like you’re struggling. Plus, I’m desperately trying to make friends. So please. Let me help you.”
“Well, you certainly don’t have to help me with this just to be my friend, but I’ll take you up on it.”
“Oh, whatever, yes, I do! And you know it. You’re too busy to make a new friend, so I’ll just weasel my way in where I can.”
“I like you. You’re very aggressive. Some people be passive-aggressive, but you’re aggressive-aggressive, and that’s good.”
Now, Ophelia managed the business’s finances and worked a couple shifts a month when he needed help.
Most of Avery’s sales came from spiritual candles and trinkets that promised money, love, faith, and whatever else a human could long for.
The shop also had a small juice bar where patrons ordered drinks or shots with clever names like Mango Mood Booster, Panting Passion Fruit with pomegranate seeds, Lavender Kiwi ReLaxative.
The remainder of the store held a mélange of local goods, art, and some organic supplements as well.
But what Avery never discussed with Ophelia was that he took cash under the table for his Voodoo rituals.
As if Ophelia didn’t know. His grandmother was Madame Delphine, the renowned Haitian Voodoo priestess.
Of course, she knew Avery was helping people on the side.
She just smiled and turned her head the other way for tax purposes.
Even though she was raised staunchly Catholic, Ophelia didn’t find the shop odd.
She grew up in New Orleans, after all. In her youth, Ophelia and Jade would get drunk in the Quarter and have their fortunes told, or she’d get high in the woods behind her house with her sisters and attempt a seance.
Normal teenage shit. New Orleans just had a mysterious undercurrent that all accepted.
And Ophelia enjoyed being in the middle of it.