Chapter 19 Love Spells #2
"Hey sugar," Eloise called from the kitchen table where she and Ursula sat playing cards with a candelabra of black tapered candles burning and one of Lady Macbeth's kits sat eating a bowl of grapes.
"So, you want to talk about the guy?"
Bess considered Ursula's question for all of two seconds before she shook her head with a smile and declined. She threw her thumb over her shoulder claiming homework before bed.
Casper curled up his long body against hers as she lay not reading the play for her humanities class.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, biting her lip at the text.
Unknown: So? You ever going to answer my texts?
She read the text and lay it on her stomach as she pet Casper's head slowly, thinking.
"What do you think?"
Casper nudged her hand with his head.
She picked up the phone and quickly typed out a text.
Bess: How did you get my number?
It buzzed less than thirty seconds later, surprising her.
Unknown: There she is
Unknown: I asked Maddison for it. She's in my third period.
She frowned. He'd asked her friend Maddison for her number? And she gave it to him?
Unknown: To her credit, she was skeptical and told me if I abused it or hurt you she would hurt me or tell your coven to hex me.
Bess smiled. That sounded like Maddison.
Bess: Ok. Well, they will hex you if you do anything stupid.
Unknown: I don't believe in hexes, remember? Wink
Bess: Your lack of belief is not required for them to have power
Unknown: That was deep, coffee girl
She frowned at the nickname. Both at the use of one and the specificity of her part-time job. How much did he know about her?
Unknown: I'll see you at school. Feel free to save my contact as "Sexy J man"
She laughed, which came out as more of a snort, causing Casper to lift his head.
Bess: Yeah, pass.
Unknown: Wink
Bess set the phone on her bedside table and sighed.
If she told Ursula and Eloise what was going on with Jeremy, they would pity her. It was embarrassing, having someone fall for you because of magic.
Or maybe they could fix it, but then...
But then it would be fixed.
The pictures that hung in The Crescent Inn, the old and the new, all hung crooked on the walls.
Every time Tilly passed by a room she would stop and sigh before she tipped them all back into place, having figured out by lunchtime that they would un-right themselves once she left the room.
One was missing, as it had crashed to the ground this morning, the glass in pieces.
The picture and its frame were now tucked in the small office under the stairs for repair, and the slip of paper that had fallen from behind it was in her hand.
Just a little imagination and an oomph of belief."
They had been Mrs. Ling's words. Were these notes from Mrs. Ling? Left for her as she slowly undid and redressed this beautiful house? But that would have had to happen years ago. She sighed and put the paper on the small desk.
Being able to walk by the room, bypassing haphazardly hung paintings was not a strength Tilly possessed.
"Tilly!"
She whirled toward the staircase, where Fae was descending wearing flowing black pants and a white blouse.
She looked regal. Except for her hair. Normally sleek and perfectly in place, her hair hadn't seen a brush or a perfecting hot tool, and it looked out of place, floating around her shoulders without its usual strict instructions.
She hadn't seen her sister this way, imperfect, since high school.
Tilly smiled as Fae made her way to the foyer.
"Hey, remember when you got that perm in high school? You stole money from mom's purse because she wouldn't take you to do it." She smiled widely at the memory. Their mother had been right not to take Fae to get a perm.
Fae's face took on a more severe pinched look than the one moments before, slender hand on a hip.
"How could you bring up such a painful memory amid my current pain? Are you fueled by cruelty?"
"Ah, no," Tilly quickly replied, regretting dipping into a moment of shared memories with her sister. She forgot how easily her sister found that an act of aggression. "What's up?"
A handful of papers were flashed angrily causing Tilly to take a step back.
"Dustin filed. He served me with divorce papers!"
Fae was many things, and dramatic was one of them.
Though, this volume of rage...Tilly could feel its concrete weight.
This wild woman, with her unkempt appearance and wide eyes, shaking arm holding lightweight papers that carried too much weight for her...this was a new version of her sister she wasn't entirely sure what to do with.
"Fae, I," she shook her head. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and I'll make us tea?"
"Tea is not going to fix this."
Her words were sharp, and Tilly was about to take it back when Fae turned and walked toward the kitchen. She closed her eyes for a moment gathering herself when the sound of the grandmother clock chimed.
She walked closer to where it sat tucked in the hallway.
The hands were pointing down and looked like they were holding between them an upside-down cart with horses, a sunburst above it.
She knew what it meant as an eerie feeling settled over her.
And then she made her prickly sister tea.
She expected the act of service to be met with pinched anger, complaints, no gratitude, and no warm exchange of sisterly love.
What she didn't expect was to find her sister bent over the worn island with her face buried in her folded arms and her shoulders shaking as small sounds escaped in little cries.
Tilly watched with horror, unsure of how to approach and handle this Fae. She couldn't find a memory of her sister crying, not like this.
So she quietly made her tea. It was a roasted chestnut herbal tea, slightly smoky in flavor that calmed the senses and warmed you as you drank it. She put a lemon rosemary shortbread cookie on the tea saucer setting it next to where her sister sat crying.
The thought of running a hand over her back in a soothing gesture occurred to her, but then the thought of her sister being angry with the kindness, turning it into an act of pitying her, kept her hand to herself.
She opened her mouth to say something, unsure what, when Freida opened the swinging door, looked at the crying Fae with a frown then to Tilly, and said in a curt voice, "There's something you need to come see."
And then she was gone, leaving the door swinging behind her.
"Fae, I need to-'"Oh go!" she cried into her arms. "I'm fine. Just leave the tea."
But even as she wasn't sure what she would be walking into, she was relieved to be leaving that behind for a few moments.
Frieda was standing in the living room, arms crossed, legs in a wide stance staring out the window.
She was beginning to feel overwhelmed by not being wanted or welcome.
From her sister, from Frieda, from people she knew in passing in town, and the signs that had started in the center of town and then bled out into yards and hung from mailboxes.
But she was responsible for this inn.
"Alright, what is going on, Freida?"
She didn't answer with words but pointed to words that had been painted across the windows in bright red paint- too bright for blood-too bright not to see whenever she closed her eyes.
WITCH BITCH
That overwhelming feeling started tingling in her fingertips, along her legs, her shoulders.
She felt that heat that started in her chest and knew that it would end with feeling like she was on fire.
Amid everything inside of her, she could feel an unease coming from Freida, but she didn't dare look at the woman as her scorn was not something she could take on.
So, she shed her black cardigan, slipping it from her hot shoulders, and balled it up with a vigor that was bursting through her movements.
"What are you planning to do?"
Freida's question wasn't mere curiosity but laced with derision and Tilly had enough. When she turned around, holding her balled-up cardigan in one fist she set the night manager with a glare that felt like fire.
And the manager had a crack in her usual air of disdainful armor as Tilly's look hit her. She took one step back, her face sliding into a look of uncertainty and Tilly could feel that uncertainty pulsing between them. It felt good, like a balm to her raging heat inside.
"Call the non-emergency police number. Tell them we've had vandalism at the inn. I am going to take pictures, get my sister upstairs, and then I want you to go and check on all of the guests."
"We only have two including your sister," she replied, the snark in her tone less sharp but still there.
Tilly took one daunting step toward Freida, the sudden fear jumping in the woman's eyes feeding Tilly's rage. She spoke slowly, clearly, and punctually so that the message was clear. "Then check on the other guest."
Silence between the two women ticked a warring of what each of them would do next, but to Tilly's relief, she nodded once. Her movements were stiff and she wasn't exactly a joyful participant, but she was a participant.
Twenty-five minutes later as Tilly left Fae's room after getting her settled, and handed her a prescribed pill that Fae's doctor had given her for her extreme stress, Freida sent her a text letting her know that the police were there.
The police she was expecting.
The particular officer, she was not.
Her feet paused halfway down the grand staircase when she saw Freida smiling tightly and looking up at Chief Landry.
He stopped whatever he was saying to the night manager when he noticed, or maybe he heard with his superior hearing, movement on the stairs, and when his eyes touched hers, she felt the touch.
She felt something big and bold coming from him, but like it was being held back, cordoned off, or buckled tightly on a leash.
She shook her head and quickly made her way down the rest of the stairs.