couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew I planned to get rid of him.
I unlocked the door of the Honeybee and walked in to find Ben and Lucy already ensconced at the table in front of the register. Empty coffee mugs and a few crumbs on their plates indicated they’d been there a while. Ben put down the newspaper section he’d been reading when I entered.
“You don’t look like you slept a wink,” Lucy said by way of greeting.
“Maybe two or three winks. How about you two?” I tore off a piece of brioche left over from the day before and joined them.
One side of Ben’s mouth quirked up. “Not so great.” He looked exhausted.
Lucy, on the other hand, appeared far more upbeat than when they’d left the evening before. Now she pushed aside the dirty dishes with a determined gesture.
“I’ve decided to bring in the ladies to help. They’re all coming here this morning.”
“The … you mean your book club? Whatever for?” I could understand needing Jaida’s help; she was a lawyer, after all. But Mimsey was a florist, for heaven’s sake, and I didn’t even know what Cookie and Bianca did.
“They can help. I’m sure of it. We did what we could to protect the bakery before the brunch. With Mavis Templeton involved, it was the practical thing to do. At first I thought the protection spell hadn’t worked, even though it’s one of Jaida’s specialties.” Lucy leaned forward and gripped my arm. “But now I realize we didn’t ward the exterior of the building. That’s why a murder could occur out on the street like that. It didn’t help that Mavis refused to eat the food I made especially for her, either.”
I squinted in confusion. “Protection spell?” I turned to my uncle.
He was focusing intently on the sports section and wouldn’t look at me.
She flicked a glance at her husband and took a deep breath. “Katie, we need to talk.”
Not my favorite words in the English language.
My uncle cleared his throat and stood. “Excuse me.” He took his coffee and paper into the office at the back of the kitchen.
I took a bite of brioche to steady myself.
Protectionspell
. What New Age mumbo jumbo was Lucy about to unleash on me?
Bracing, I sipped my coffee and sat back in my chair. “All right. Let’s talk.”
Her unblinking eyes never wavered. “I don’t know any other way to say it except to come right out with it: All the members of the book club are witches.” Her statement held an intensity I’d rarely heard from Lucy. “And so are you.”
The brioche did a slow flip-flop in my stomach. I spoke each word with care. “Aunt Lucy, that’s ridiculous.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Good ones, of course.”
“Right. You’re in a book club with a bunch of witches.”
She didn’t smile. “It’s a spellbook club. We study the spells of others, some very old, in order to develop our own. Like you read old cookbooks to get ideas for recipes.”
A couple of beats passed as my mind wrapped around that. My laugh, when it came, was just a tad strained. What she was saying was crazy, absolutely nutso to a degree that went beyond any of her usual tarot-chakra-feng-shui-psychic nonsense.
So why did the very notion wing through me like a familiar wind? Why did I feel more relief than alarm at hearing her words?
Nonsense
.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Oh, now, come on. You can’t be serious.”
“I can. I am.”
Bewildered, I could only blink.
My aunt continued. “You come from a long line of witches.”
I snorted. “Tell that to Mama.”
“Your mother turned her back on the Craft. And on me, eventually,” Lucy said. The deep sadness in her voice gave me pause. “She was frightened that someone would find out what she and your father were. Fillmore is a small town, you know, and not everyone is open-minded. And when we were children in Dayton, there was a problem with a neighbor who happened upon your grandmother casting a spell. It was only a fertility spell for the
I unlocked the door of the Honeybee and walked in to find Ben and Lucy already ensconced at the table in front of the register. Empty coffee mugs and a few crumbs on their plates indicated they’d been there a while. Ben put down the newspaper section he’d been reading when I entered.
“You don’t look like you slept a wink,” Lucy said by way of greeting.
“Maybe two or three winks. How about you two?” I tore off a piece of brioche left over from the day before and joined them.
One side of Ben’s mouth quirked up. “Not so great.” He looked exhausted.
Lucy, on the other hand, appeared far more upbeat than when they’d left the evening before. Now she pushed aside the dirty dishes with a determined gesture.
“I’ve decided to bring in the ladies to help. They’re all coming here this morning.”
“The … you mean your book club? Whatever for?” I could understand needing Jaida’s help; she was a lawyer, after all. But Mimsey was a florist, for heaven’s sake, and I didn’t even know what Cookie and Bianca did.
“They can help. I’m sure of it. We did what we could to protect the bakery before the brunch. With Mavis Templeton involved, it was the practical thing to do. At first I thought the protection spell hadn’t worked, even though it’s one of Jaida’s specialties.” Lucy leaned forward and gripped my arm. “But now I realize we didn’t ward the exterior of the building. That’s why a murder could occur out on the street like that. It didn’t help that Mavis refused to eat the food I made especially for her, either.”
I squinted in confusion. “Protection spell?” I turned to my uncle.
He was focusing intently on the sports section and wouldn’t look at me.
She flicked a glance at her husband and took a deep breath. “Katie, we need to talk.”
Not my favorite words in the English language.
My uncle cleared his throat and stood. “Excuse me.” He took his coffee and paper into the office at the back of the kitchen.
I took a bite of brioche to steady myself.
Protectionspell
. What New Age mumbo jumbo was Lucy about to unleash on me?
Bracing, I sipped my coffee and sat back in my chair. “All right. Let’s talk.”
Her unblinking eyes never wavered. “I don’t know any other way to say it except to come right out with it: All the members of the book club are witches.” Her statement held an intensity I’d rarely heard from Lucy. “And so are you.”
The brioche did a slow flip-flop in my stomach. I spoke each word with care. “Aunt Lucy, that’s ridiculous.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Good ones, of course.”
“Right. You’re in a book club with a bunch of witches.”
She didn’t smile. “It’s a spellbook club. We study the spells of others, some very old, in order to develop our own. Like you read old cookbooks to get ideas for recipes.”
A couple of beats passed as my mind wrapped around that. My laugh, when it came, was just a tad strained. What she was saying was crazy, absolutely nutso to a degree that went beyond any of her usual tarot-chakra-feng-shui-psychic nonsense.
So why did the very notion wing through me like a familiar wind? Why did I feel more relief than alarm at hearing her words?
Nonsense
.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Oh, now, come on. You can’t be serious.”
“I can. I am.”
Bewildered, I could only blink.
My aunt continued. “You come from a long line of witches.”
I snorted. “Tell that to Mama.”
“Your mother turned her back on the Craft. And on me, eventually,” Lucy said. The deep sadness in her voice gave me pause. “She was frightened that someone would find out what she and your father were. Fillmore is a small town, you know, and not everyone is open-minded. And when we were children in Dayton, there was a problem with a neighbor who happened upon your grandmother casting a spell. It was only a fertility spell for the
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