The Harvest Moon Café

Chapter One

Blair Briarwood, eldest of the Briarwood sisters and owner of the Harvest Moon Café, the only café in the sleepy town of Moonbeam Hollow, knew deep in her bones that something wasn’t quite right in her little world.

She didn’t know why things felt wrong – a glance around proved everything was in order.

Her café was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, heightened by the orange and dusky peach colour scheme.

Silver-haired members of the Moonbeam Hollow knitting society were crowded onto two sofas covered with crocheted throws and velvet cushions at the back, loudly gossiping over each other more than knitting or purling.

Blair’s sister Bianca was curled with one leg under her at one of the honey-oak café tables, drinking a spiced maple latte while reading a book.

Her long cherry red hair was almost glowing in the sun, blocking Blair’s view of what she was reading.

Bianca shifted in her seat, and Blair’s stomach tightened when she noticed that her sister was holding a travel guide to India.

Her sister had finally returned to Moonbeam Hollow after travelling and earning her degree, and now she was going to India?

Had Bianca’s urge to connect with their family roots returned?

Blair absently fingered the pendant on her chest. How was she supposed to look out for – and protect – her youngest sister, if Bianca was on the other side of the world?

And also, how would this connecting be funded, anyway?

But Bianca being difficult was hardly new, and Blair doubted it was the cause of her unease.

Blair glanced out the white-framed front window.

The green grass of the town square was dotted with yellow dandelions and a small white gazebo gleamed against the clear blue sky.

Also, the backside of a man was visible as he rummaged in an illegally parked green SUV.

Who was that? Blair knew everyone in Moonbeam Hollow, and no local filled a pair of Levi’s quite like that.

It was hard not to stare. The man’s legs looked long and strong in the faded denim, paired with tan leather boots and a blue plaid flannel shirt.

As his head and arms were inside the car, Blair had no idea if he had a broad back or strong biceps to match his well-formed lower half, but that didn’t really matter.

Blair wasn’t at all interested in dating, hooking up with, or even flirting with anyone, so admiring from afar was all that was going to happen.

Blair tried to predict his coffee order.

She had owned a café long enough to know that rugged jeans and flannel didn’t always mean black drip coffee.

In fact, there was nothing that pleased Blair more than a burly outdoorsy type ordering a lavender Earl Grey, or a honey-cinnamon latte.

And since it was September and the café’s famous pumpkin spice latte was on the menu, it was entirely possible that this flannel-clad man would opt for a seasonal speciality.

If he was in front of Blair, she would know exactly what would soothe his soul and delight his taste buds. She’d be able to craft the perfect speciality drink, tailored specifically for him, using her instinct and years of experience. And a heavy dose of witchcraft magic, too.

A loud holler from the knitting group brought Blair out of her trance.

She’d asked the members more than once to keep their voices to a reasonable decibel, but it was futile.

Blair wouldn’t think of banning the Stitch Witches from the Harvest Moon Café, though, despite their boisterousness and inaccurate, honestly frankly offensive name.

(There wasn’t one witch among them.) Members of the group each bought at least two speciality drinks and tipped well during their meetings.

Plus, they gifted Blair cozy hats and scarves all year.

‘Blair darling,’ a voice in front of her said.

It was Agatha, the leader of the Stitch Witches, giving Blair a pointed look.

The sixty-something woman’s hair was dyed a silvery-lavender shade, and she always wore bright, purple-framed glasses.

Blair noticed that behind Agatha was the group’s newest member, a shy teenage boy who Blair knew was only in the Stitch Witches because his mother had read that knitting would improve his math abilities.

‘Tyler here claims he doesn’t like pumpkin spice, but I told him that your pumpkin spice lattes are the best in the world. Be a doll and prove me right.’

Blair put on her customer service smile.

‘Of course!’ She looked into the boy’s dark eyes.

He was shy, yes, but there was a boldness in there, too.

She dug deeper to find his most cherished food memory – watching his grandmother bake treats for him.

Blair focused harder on the image to see what the treat was .

. . and bingo. The boy loved carrot cake, which meant a pumpkin spice latte heavy on cinnamon, vanilla and pumpkin.

As Blair made the drink, a flick of her hand and a silent spell on her homemade pumpkin spice syrup ensured that those flavours would be in the forefront.

She handed the young man his warm orange mug and watched as he took a deep inhalation.

And there it was – the moment when the scent of the custom brew brought him back to being a small child watching his grandmother ice cakes in her kitchen.

It was a lovely memory, judging by the way his shoulders relaxed.

Blair would never grow tired of gifting her customers that feeling.

‘I told you.’ Agatha beamed at Tyler. ‘It’s impossible not to love Blair’s pumpkin spice. It’s like it’s crafted by fairy magic!’

Witch magic, actually. Not that anyone in town knew that.

Except of course the only other two witches in Moonbeam Hollow, Blair’s sisters Belinda and Bianca.

Blair’s talent was in potions, which is what speciality drinks really were.

She used the best quality flavourings and spices and a hint of magic to make her warm beverages elicit cozy and welcoming emotions in her customers.

And she dabbled in healing potions, too – selling two-ounce bottles of homemade power shots from a fridge in her café, all from her mother’s recipes.

‘First one’s on the house, Tyler,’ Blair said. ‘I hope we’ll see you here for knitting group meetings every week!’

Tyler nodded awkwardly and headed back to the couches, but Agatha stayed. She was probably fishing for information. Agatha was both the best knitter and the best gossip in Moonbeam Hollow. Or the worst gossip – especially if you were the subject of her tea-spilling.

‘Have you heard the news?’ Agatha leaned close as though she was telling a secret, despite her voice being as loud as ever. ‘A new patisserie is opening next door!’ Agatha said patisserie with an affected French accent that Blair had to strain not to laugh at.

But wait . . . what patisserie? Blair had noticed that construction had started today in the space next door, but she didn’t know yet what type of business it would be. ‘I didn’t know a bakery was opening.’ Blair wiped down the espresso machine.

‘Construction started this week. Apparently, the baker is Cordon Bleu trained. Wish I could say more but have been sworn to secrecy! Don’t worry, my dear, the Stitch Witches will be on the Harvest Moon Café’s side.

We do not let people come for one of our own in Moonbeam Hollow!

’ Agatha said in a sing-song voice before heading back to her group.

Blair didn’t have a moment to process Agatha’s news because her sister Bianca was immediately standing in front of her. ‘I have all the dirt,’ Bianca stated, eyes wide.

‘Eavesdropping, Bianca?’ Blair asked.

‘Barely. Agatha’s loud enough to burst an eardrum. I used the weakest listening spell to listen to the Stitch Witches.’

Blair shook her head, disappointed. She wished her other sister Belinda was here. Blair and Belinda had been trying to convince Bianca to stop using magic to invade other people’s privacy.

‘Don’t go all judgy big sister on me,’ Bianca said. ‘You use magic every time you make someone a latte.’

‘That’s different. It’s my literal job. You’re just being nosy.’

‘Okay, and if I wasn’t being nosy then I wouldn’t know that a bakery called Shirley’s Sugar Mountain is opening next door to your literal job.’

Blair’s eyes narrowed. ‘That doesn’t sound like a French bakery.’

‘Maybe there’s a French pronunciation of Shirley. Are you okay with this?’

Blair shrugged. ‘A bakery would be good for Moonbeam Hollow.’ Blair ordered pastries and baked goods from a supplier in a nearby town to sell at the café, but they weren’t really moneymakers for her. Her beverages were her bread and butter, or rather, her milk and coffee.

‘I overheard Aarushi say she saw a man bringing an espresso machine into the place,’ Bianca said.

Oh. This could very well be why Blair had been feeling something was wrong all day.

Moonbeam Hollow wasn’t big enough to support two speciality coffee establishments.

And if one of them also had French pastries made on the premises?

It would be very hard for Blair’s little café to compete with that. Even using magic.

Also, was the strong-legged man outside the one with the espresso machine?

Blair glanced outside, and both the man and the car were gone.

She assumed he wasn’t the actual proprietor of Shirley’s Sugar Mountain, unless his name was Shirley, which seemed unlikely.

Maybe a contractor? Or handyman? Blair made a fist under the counter. This could definitely be a problem.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Blair said. ‘You don’t need to worry about it.’ Blair herself was worrying about it, but she didn’t want her sister to.