Chapter Twenty-One

“I have seven phone messages and your schedule for the day is outlined for you on the calendar app.”

Jack took the tablet from his assistant with a brief smile. “Thanks, Lanee.” He walked into his corner office and slumped down in the leather chair behind the massive desk. His head already hurt and he’d arrived less than five minutes ago. He still couldn’t drive and shouldn’t be using a screen yet, but here he was. All work, all hours of the day.

Why did he like doing this again? How had he thought this was the lifestyle he had wanted before going to Fallbank? His entire life was consumed by work and contracts and negotiations. Meetings and phone calls and emails at all hours of every day. This was fun? This was stimulating for him? Buying other companies and consolidating workforces to lay people off?

He’d fallen right back into his old habits. His mother had gotten him a haircut and his father had strongly suggested he shave because it was the more professional choice. Jack had still been out of it enough to agree and go along with whatever they said. As his head had cleared with the passing days, he regretted it all.

“What am I doing?” he muttered, shoving the tablet away. He gazed out of the windows at the snow-capped peak of Mt. Rainier looming above the misty low-lying clouds in the distance. The sight made him ache with the need to be outdoors. To breathe fresh air and be surrounded by nature. He wanted to work with his hands, get dirty, see tangible results before going home. Home to a gorgeous green-eyed, curly-haired witch who’d stolen his heart—and he never wanted it back. He wanted her to have it. Forever.

The ragged hole in his chest hurt with every breath and he couldn’t see a way forward. Bridget had slammed the door on them and he couldn’t blame her. She deserved to hate him. He’d lied and withheld vital information about himself and his motives for coming to Fallbank. Then he’d added insult to injury by pointing out her town reputation. But nothing about their love had been fake. Not on his end at least. He loved Bridget and if it took him the rest of his life, he’d find some way to win back her trust, or die trying. Too bad it was looking like the latter.

When he’d seen her last week in one of their other buildings, he laughingly thought she was there for him. God, the way his heart had leaped when he’d seen her standing in front of the elevator. Her strained expression had gutted him and the elevator doors closing were the only thing that had saved him from literally getting on his knees to beg forgiveness. Now he continued to rack his brain for how to repair the damage he’d done. And the answer that kept popping up was that he needed help.

Which was how he found himself the recipient of Sarah Wildes’ steely glare at the café on the main floor of her building that Monday.

“Talk,” she offered as a greeting. Her cool gaze and blonde hair gave her a far less welcoming attitude than Bridget’s open and warm vibe. Sarah had mastered the calm and collected façade of a born-and-raised city dweller without an ounce of softness to her.

He sipped his water and cleared his throat. “Thanks for meeting me. I…want to start by saying how much I regret how things ended up between Bridget and me. It was never my intention to hurt her.”

“And yet you did. Honestly what did you expect? How could you think it would turn out any other way when you lied about who you were and why you came to Fallbank?” Jaw clenched and nostrils flaring, she gave a small shake of her head. “You always knew your plan was to take over Timber Logging Company and destroy the town economy. That puts you on everyone’s shit list.”

“I know. I think I can fix that. My father might disown me, but I don’t care. I can’t go back to who I was before. I don’t want to be that man anymore.” He raked a hand through his hair and grimaced at the residual hair product on his fingers. He’d forgotten about his new-old hair style. “I need your help with Bridget. I can’t let her go. I won’t. If she really doesn’t want me, then I’ll accept her decision. I won’t stop loving her and I’ll always wait for her, but I have to try again. I need the chance to have an actual conversation with her.”

Sarah held up her hand and he shut up. “First, what you need to do is figure out who you are. Are you”—she waved her palm in his general direction—“this guy? Rich, eligible, Seattle mogul Jonathan Ewan Thompson III? Or Jack Thompson, logger and small-town local in the middle-of-nowhere Oregon?”

“I’m not this guy. Not anymore. I was, but it’s not who I am inside. My grandfather saw the real me and tried to pull him out. He taught me to work with my hands and be a real part of a team. And I want that life. With Bridget.”

“Then the second thing to do is prove you want her. She buries herself in work because she has nothing else. She thinks her life legacy is Three Sisters Apothecary and carrying on the family heritage. But all of that is worthless if there’s no one to pass it on to.” Sarah’s mask cracked for a split second and painful loneliness shone through. “She’s never had anyone besides me, Gran and Becca. Not really. Other guys she dated never put in the effort. They didn’t treat her like she was special and worthwhile.”

She leaned forward on her elbows and leveled her gaze at him. “Bridget has a heart of pure gold. She does nothing halfway and gives all of herself to everything. But for some reason, she hasn’t found anyone who sees that. Sees how amazing she is. It’s beyond frustrating to watch her date and not have her be appreciated that way she should be. Valued and cared for. I thought you were different. That you saw her worth and pulled her out of her shell. You pushed her into the spotlight and watched her shine.” She folded her arms again and glared. “Then you took a baseball bat and smashed the light into a million pieces. And cut her with the shards.”

He couldn’t refute her words. “I know. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“So fix it. Make it up to her. Prove to her and the world that she is worth the effort. She’s your number one and won’t ever be anything less. If you can’t do that, then you don’t deserve her.” Sarah grabbed her purse and stood up. “And prove that you aren’t going to abandon her or ask her to give up everything for you. She’s had a lifetime of giving up every dream that ever crossed her mind to make other people happy and never once tried for herself.”

He watched Sarah leave, then picked up his phone.

“Hey, Cornelius. Got a minute?”

 

* * * *

Bridget spent her week working nonstop. She made massive amounts of new products, reorganized the shelves at the store, cleaned the entire shop from top to bottom, cleaned her house from top to bottom and went shopping for new fall décor to bring to her booth at the Fallbank Fall Festival. She pushed a cart around the local craft store to find items she could combine to create new accents to showcase her products. She grabbed orange and purple-black battery-powered twinkle lights, orange tulle and a garland of glitter-covered black cats. Already, her mind was working out how she could fit the new decorations into her booth displays. The festival was on Halloween this year, so it was bound to be packed. Candy! She needed candy for kids to grab as they stopped in. She found a cauldron-shaped ceramic bowl to put her treats in. Then she rounded a corner to check out.

“There’s the witch.”

The voice came from her side and Bridget looked over at two women furtively glancing her way. Her patience snapped. Years of ridiculous rumors and whispers and gossip boiled over inside her. How many years had she lived in this town? How long had Three Sisters Apothecary existed? How long would she be talked about and called ‘witch?’ She was sick of it. Sick of trying to fit in, never stepping one toe out of line for fear it would ruin her business and she would be the Wildes who ended the family legacy. Of sacrificing everything else in life to have a successful business and be a part of a community that didn’t want to accept her.

Eva’s words rang in Bridget’s head. Bridget needed to take back the meaning of witch and live up to the wise women who’d come before. To be worthy of their approval of calling herself a witch.

She spun on those women and glared. “What have I ever done to make you think I’m a witch?”

The two ladies gawped at her for a moment before one recovered. “Well, your store. It’s full of witch stuff.”

“Oh? Would that be my lotion or soap or tea or candles? It’s the candles, isn’t it? Because they smell good and no one else sells that kind of stuff.” She turned her eyes pointedly at the display of scented candles and body lotions next to them. She arched one brow as she cut her gaze back to them. “Or perhaps because my family has been a member of the town since the founding? There must be a history of us casting spells or making potions and poisoning others. Stealing lovers and causing fatal accidents? Go on. I’ll wait for you to tell me. What. Makes. Me. A. Witch?”

“Well… I-it’s… You—” The woman stammered in fits and starts.

“Exactly. I’ve done nothing. I’ve never harmed anyone. I run a respectable store. I help pull in shoppers for the local economy. I work hard and keep my head down. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket! Yet you still mock me for some reason.”

She shook her head. “I’m done. I’m done caring and trying to fit into whatever perfect little mold I need to be in to be accepted as one of your own. You know what, I am a witch! A wise woman who helps others. I’m good with plants and making soap and tea. If you want to judge me, you narrow-minded bitches, feel free. But I’m not going to care about your snobby and worthless opinions anymore. Oh, and keep in mind, it’s nearly Halloween and the veil gets thin then. Better watch out for ghosts and ghouls, and any other witches who might be lurking.”

She turned on her heel and pushed the cart on, head held high. A buoyancy filled her. For the first time ever, she’d stood up for herself and it felt great. Amazing. Fantastic. She grinned and strutted up the aisle. Sparkly black fabric caught her eye and she paused. Yes, this was exactly what she needed for Saturday. Time for her to put her money where her mouth was. She reached out and added more to her cart.

Walking to her car, she passed the local coffee shop and popped in for a pumpkin spice scone and matching latte. Her friend Serena waved from a table.

“Hey, Serena. How are you?” Bridget walked over with a smile.

Her friend gestured to sit and for once, Bridget allowed herself the chance. If she was going to tell the town to accept her for who she was, Bridget needed to give herself the chance to be who she was. That meant fewer late nights at the store or weekends making products and poring over her computer to ensure every penny was accounted for. Online orders were still increasing, and the past couple of weeks at the festivals, she’d sold out. Sales were steady and reaching her income goals for in-person customers, so why not take twenty minutes to eat and enjoy a chat with a friend?

As Gran had always said, there was more to life than the store. Bridget needed to heed that advice if she didn’t want life to pass her by.

Serena smiled. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are things? I hear you have a hot new boyfriend.” Her smile turned into a Cheshire grin.

Unfortunately for Bridget, all she felt was a sharp stab of sadness in her chest. The thought of Jack still stole her breath and she struggled to recover. “I, ah, I did. Not anymore though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She put her hand over Bridget’s. “I really hoped this one might work out for you. You don’t have many serious boyfriends. Do you want to talk about it?”

Bridget shook her head vehemently. “No. I’m not there yet.”

“Totally understand. Want to meet for dinner later in the week? We haven’t hung out in so long. I miss it!”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no out of habit. She stopped herself and instead took a breath. Then she opened her mouth. “That would be nice. I need to work less and enjoy life more.”

Serena laughed. “No argument there. Want to meet at Bingley’s on Thursday at six?”

“Perfect. See you then.” Bridget waved and tossed her trash into the bin. Then she continued on her way back to Three Sisters.

Once there she marched in and over to Arianna. “Would you be able to work full-time and still go to classes?”

“Wha—um, yes?”

Bridget tilted her head. “Are you certain? No is an okay answer. I can hire another part-time employee, but I’m going to be making more room for myself.”

“Yeah, I can do that. I like working here and could use the extra money, too. Thanks, Bridget. I know you didn’t want me here in the first place.”

A wave of guilt hit her. Arianna was right, but she’d proved Bridget wrong. “Having an additional employee wasn’t in my plans, but I’m glad Sarah hired you. You’re great and I’ll keep you as long as you want to stay.”

“What brought this on?” Becca’s voice sounded from the back room as she stepped through the door.

She grinned at her with a shrug. “Just being called a witch one time too many and realizing I give too much of my life to this place.”

Her cousin nodded. “You’re not wrong about that. I’m happy to hear you’re going to make a change for yourself. I can help more, too.”

“What about your farm? You do have your hands full there.”

“I also have five farmhands to keep things running smoothly. Plus winter is coming so there’s less to do and less to grow. I’ve got more free time. This is my family legacy, too. I want to be a part of it.”

Bridget blinked at the stinging in her eyes and rushed forward to hug Becca. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like this wasn’t yours. I won’t say no to you being here. Not ever.”

Becca brought her arms around Bridget and squeezed tight. “I know that. And you didn’t make me feel like an outsider. I get that you internalized more of the weight of carrying on the shop and history of the line of Wildes women.” She pulled back. “We can at least be two of three sisters here at the store.”

“Definitely. Want to help me with the festival booth on Saturday? I have an idea.”

Gran popped around the door from the stairs. “Here’s two of my girls. Bridget, you’re looking better.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I’m getting there. It’s slow and hard and hurts like a monster, but I’m making some changes.”

“Changes?” Gran’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“Yep. Arianna is going to work here full-time and Becca is going to cover more shifts. I still love this store so much, but it can’t be my whole life. I’m going to find some ways to delegate responsibilities. And I’m done hiding. If people believe I’m a witch, I’m going to embrace that title. I can’t let that stop me from having friends and enjoying life.” Even when nursing a broken heart.

If she were honest with herself, Bridget doubted she’d ever get over Jack. She’d fallen hard and fast, but also deep and solid. This wasn’t some fickle love that would fade in a few weeks. It would be years, if ever, before she could think of dating again. Her heart told her it had found its match. Her head replied that the match wasn’t real. He’d lied the whole time. Still, her heart couldn’t change its rhythm back to the way it had been before. It would beat for Jack for a long time.