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When Kyle’s cell phone rang its first alarm, I lay sprawled across him on the bed. I rolled onto my back and rested my forearm across my head as the second alarm sequence increased in volume. Ash arched her back at the foot of the bed and made her way toward the pillows, purring loudly. I scooped her up and cuddled her.
With the third, and louder, alarm sequence, I added my voice. “Kyle!”
He bolted upright and glanced around the room to get his bearings. He reached for his phone and turned off the alarm.
The cat jumped to the floor and walked out of the bedroom. I flapped my hands at Kyle to shoo him out of bed, too.
“Cruel,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s not even light out yet. And it’s cold.”
“And Hillendale is waiting for you to protect and serve.”
He growled and burrowed his face into my neck. “I’d rather protect and serve you.”
I giggled and hugged him.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled away. “I’ll bring home dinner tonight?”
“Sounds good.”
He threw back the sheet, giving me a front-row seat to admire his finer attributes as he headed toward the bathroom. He returned a few moments later and sat on the edge of the bed to tug his clothes on. I pulled my knees to my chest, certain I would never grow tired of this man.
He leaned over to kiss me. “See you when you open the store.” And then he was gone.
I pulled on my bathrobe and stopped in the bathroom before going downstairs. When I flipped on the light in the workroom, Ash was situated beside the window in a Sphinx-like pose, her ears twitching with whatever was happening outside.
A grimoire lay open on the worktable, waiting for me. The recipe was for arthritis. I checked the pot of turmeric growing at the end of the table, plenty to get through the winter months. With the rhizomes budding, I’d have more to plant before spring.
While I blended the recipe, the sun made its appearance. Ash sat up, still as a statue as she watched the wildlife chasing around the yard.
I put the product into a tin, picked a handful of thyme from one of the window boxes, tied it into a bundle and hung it from a hook on the ceiling to dry. When I returned to the book on the table, the page had turned. Funny how I’d become accustomed to the animated recipe books in such a short time.
Now, there was another book to worry about, one I wasn’t eager to see again. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering what secrets the hidden grimoire held and what it would call on me to do. Just thinking about the skull and crossbones sent a chill through me. Nora had said she’d only used the book a couple of times over the past twenty-some-odd years. With any luck, it would leave me alone.
And then what? Would Jason’s daughter inherit the family gift? Would the book call on her? A better question was whether I would be able to teach her what I knew. If my cousin meant to keep me from his daughter, the way my uncle had kept me from Aunt Nora, she might stumble across her gifts the way I did and hurt someone unintentionally.
Jason’s daughter wasn’t even born yet. I had plenty of time to worry about that. For now, a special order asked to be made.
By the time I’d finished blending herbs to help with insomnia, the workroom was flooded with natural light. Time to get showered and dressed.
An hour later, I packed the special orders into my tote bag and opened the covered basket that had become Ash’s transport. She jumped in while I put on my coat, and after I’d checked to make sure everything was turned off and closed, we started for town.
The well-worn footpaths crunched with frozen mud. The wind shook clumps of hoar frost from barren trees. I descended three wooden steps, taking care not to slip, and came out onto Broadway, the cobbled street that made up the business district.
The artist statue on the corner of Broadway and North was turned toward the Village Hall today. On the artist’s easel, the painting showed the Williamsburg-like building and an assortment of jack-o-lanterns on the surrounding lawn. Someone had tied a Lone Ranger style Halloween mask over the statue’s eyes.
People bustled in and out of the bakery across the street. Two men unloading a truck carried supplies into the restaurant. Beyond the florist, which hadn’t opened yet, two older men stood outside the five-and-dime in deep discussion.
While I unlocked the door to Windfall, I glanced at the bookstore next door to see if Yvonne had opened yet—no lights. Ash pushed her head through the hinged cover on the basket, followed by her two front paws. I hurried into the gift shop—no, it was a boutique now—and set the basket on the counter. Ash jumped onto the display cases and stretched her paws forward. Her ears quivered with the effort, and then she sat expectantly.
“Let me take my coat off,” I said. “Then I’ll feed you.”
She chirruped a half meow, half purr, as if she understood.
I left my tote on the rear counter and carried my coat to the backroom. Ash trotted along behind me, curling around my legs when I poured food into her bowl. I returned to the front of the store and set my hands on my hips. It would take time for me to get used to the new arrangement.
In place of the shelves of goods I’d sold on consignment up until a couple of months ago, clothes racks filled the middle of the floor. One corner of the shop held the armoire stocked with essential oils. In another, the table of soaps and bath salts.
The bell over the door announced the arrival of my business partner, Cassandra Larsen. She wore torn jeans, an oversized T-shirt and athletic shoes. Her ice-blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, but her makeup wasn’t as bold as she normally wore, even though her dark brown eyes didn’t need accenting.
“I didn’t think you were coming in until noon,” I said.
The cold had made her cheeks bright red against her pale complexion. “I have bad news.”