More Than Magic by Donna June Cooper Page A

disappeared into these mountains, not even waiting to walk across the stage to receive her double diploma. She’d shut down her grandfather’s herb business and closed up the cabin rental business as well, sending her grandfather’s loyal, long-term employees on extended vacations. It seemed obvious something was up.
    The whole thing just felt off kilter somehow. His gut told him he was sitting right on top of it, but it also told him it wasn’t her. She certainly didn’t need the money, unless he had missed something. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopefully he could follow her around today to see if this place really was a drug operation masquerading as something benign. Because if it wasn’t, he had just wasted valuable time—time they didn’t have now that the drug cartels in Atlanta were looking for the source as well.
    But nothing fit. She didn’t look or act like any meth cooker he ever met, and with that skin and hair she certainly wasn’t a user herself. And now here she was up at an ungodly hour to start her day—the woman literally radiated good health. It wasn’t unheard of for distributors to lay off the stuff they sold, but his scum radar wasn’t pinging.  
    It was possible he was just letting a leggy redhead throw him off. Or maybe it was because Grace Woodruff had awakened parts of him that he thought had been chemically cauterized.
    Perhaps the surprise of feeling halfway alive again had muddled his instincts. He generally didn’t like surprises. In his experience, they usually involved mortal danger in some form or another.
     
    For the first time in months, the feeling of impending doom that had shadowed Grace’s waking and sleeping hours seemed to ease a bit. The results in the greenhouse had been good. Not perfect, but good. The Goldenseal rhizomes were barely developed enough to test, which was, although not what she had hoped for, still far better than it had been. And this afternoon she could fit in some quality tests to see if her success extended to the active compounds as well.
    Hopefully, they could restart the herb business sooner than she had expected. That would put Eddie’s heart at ease, she knew. Although Grace would be the one to deal with the actual logistics, she was relieved to think that Woodruff Herbs would be available again and their poor marketing folks wouldn’t have to handle all the emails and phone calls. After the whole fiasco of shutting down, the work required to start back up was going to be excruciating. Getting back to full production would take a while, as well as some money, if she invested in the genetic analyses she’d been considering. But it would be worth it.
    Pooka kept running off the path into the woods that surrounded the cabins, chasing some scent only he could detect, and loping back to her. Back and forth, the leaves crackling beneath his paws.
    “Sssshhh boy,” she whispered. “Hopefully we can be well on our way before Mr. City Man is awake.”
    She had decided to deliver the fresh produce and eggs to her guest’s cabin door, rather than make him drag his tired self down to the house. There was plenty to share. More than enough to give him a half dozen eggs, a head of that new lettuce they were trying out, plus three fat ripe tomatoes, a few scallions, and a sampling of the herbs. In addition, she had thrown in a jar of Daniel’s honey. And she would still have plenty to share with Old Annie Taggart.
    A hint of dawn brushed the cloud edges with pink, and she could barely hear their rooster expressing his opinion about anyone fool enough to stay in bed. She went up the steps to the Jewelweed cabin as quietly as she could, setting the basket beside the door and retreating back to the house in the same fashion.
    It was about time she went to see the Taggarts. She hadn’t been over there since Pops’s funeral.
    Grace thought she might manage a quick visit tomorrow—especially since the forecaster had said something about a cold