by Bailey Cates
“She didn’t say that,” I scoffed.
“Oh, I just bet she did,” Lucy said with an amused expression. “She was never one to pull punches.”
Mama nodded. “Told me to stop acting like an ass and to start being a good mother again. Let me tell you, there is nothing like a voice from the past to goose you into doing what’s right.”
“But we had already begun to make up,” I said.
Lucy looked surprised.
“Last night on the phone,” I explained.
“Apparently that wasn’t good enough. ‘Get down there and see what Katie is up to. Embrace it. She needs her mother.’ When I told Skylar, I’m afraid he spilled the beans about her visits to you in the past. How she—” She swallowed. “How she saved your life. So you see why I had to come.”
“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I did want to see my mother, but it wasn’t the best timing. We had a lot to work through, a lot to heal. Between the search for Autumn’s murderer, trying to keep Georgia Wild afloat, and my usual duties at the Honeybee, I didn’t know how I would find the time to spend with my mother.
“How long are you going to be here?” I asked.
“Indefinitely.”
Oh. My. “I see.” I pasted a bright smile on my face.
“It’s all right if I stay with you, isn’t it?”
The smile froze on my face as I struggled to find the right words.
Lucy saved me. “Oh, you don’t want to do that, Mary Jane. Katie’s carriage house is adorable, just perfect for one person, but she doesn’t really have the room for a houseguest. Come stay with Ben and me. Our guest room is all ready, and you can have your own bath.”
It was the private bath that changed Mama’s mind. I sent a grateful look to Lucy, who acknowledged it with a twitch of her lips. Now, there was someone who knew how to be truly good.
“Are you sure Ben won’t mind?” my mother asked.
“Of course he won’t.”
The funny thing was, Lucy was right. Ben loved having houseguests, and he was curious as all get out about my mother. His natural gregariousness would go a long way toward smoothing the rocky patch between the two sisters.
“Let’s go ask him,” I said. The tight quarters were making me claustrophobic.
When we trooped back out to the front of the bakery, Ben was busy but handling everything all right. Since he was steaming milk, I stepped to the counter to take the order of the next waiting customer.
“Don’t you have any fun drinks?” asked the scowling woman. Deep frown lines testified to her ongoing bad attitude, and her hands were jammed into the pockets of her stretched-out cardigan.
“We pretty much stick to the regular stuff,” I said with cheer. “Since the Honeybee is a bakery more than a coffee shop, we focus more on fun pastries, cookies, cakes, and the like.”
“Well, maybe you should up your game, missy.” She stomped away.
I certainly wasn’t sorry that she was taking her grumpy energy out of the Honeybee.
“Why, that was so rude,” Mama said from where she stood beside me.
Lucy joined us. “What do you think the best thing would have been for her?”
Guilt stabbed me. I should have thought about how to make her feel better, not been glad when she left. Looking down at the counter, I mumbled, “It’s hard to know since I don’t know why she’s in such a foul mood. Maybe a little bergamot for general peacefulness? Plenty of that in a cup of Earl Grey tea. And olives for stress.” For some reason I’d added kalamata olives to a few of the sourdough loaves I’d baked that morning.
Lucy patted me on the arm. “Don’t worry. She’ll be back.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because she could have gone to a coffee shop in the first place, but she came here because something inside told her we could help her.”
“But I didn’t.” I sighed.
“Like I said, you’ll get another chance.”
My mother had been listening to our exchange. “So that’s what the Honeybee is all about? Using your”—she glanced around—“talents to help your customers?”
“For heaven’s sake, Mary Jane!” Lucy’s voice rose. “What did you think?”
Customers turned their heads toward us.
“Lucy,” I said.
She went on in a lower tone. “Katie, of course, has other powers, and she’s a consummate pastry chef. But of course we employ hedgewitchery here in the bakery.”
My mother’s forehead wrinkled, and an ominous look entered her eye. “What do you mean Katie has other powers?”
Lucy put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “Your daughter is a catalyst and a lightwitch,” she whispered. “And so far that has manifested in her being a tool of justice.”
I snorted. Tool of justice. Sheesh.
Jerking her head back, Mama stared in outrage at her sister first, then at me. “Meaning?”
I shrugged, but Lucy plunged on. “She brings killers to justice. It’s happened twice so far, and now she’s going for a hat trick.”
“Oh, come on, Lucy,” I said. “Don’t you think that’s a bit dramatic?”
“A hat . . . You mean . . . Katie,” Mama hissed. “Is that why Mother had to save your life?”
Holding up my hand, I said, “Remember what Nonna told you. ‘Embrace it.’”
Mary Jane Lightfoot’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared, but I had to give her credit when she said, “I’ll do my best. Now, are you going to show me around the bakery or not?”
• • •
As predicted, Ben loved the idea of my mother staying in his and Lucy’s townhouse for as long as she saw fit. After I showed her around the kitchen and the reading area, Mama started in on the questions about how we applied herbal craft to our recipes. Finally I had to quietly point out that our customers didn’t know that the rosemary Parmesan scones would promote fidelity—or any of the other intended effects of our baked goods.
“It’s not that we’re trying to fool them,” I said. “But some people don’t know that they need help—or believe in our particular methods. We’re only trying to help.”
Mama settled onto one of the bistro chairs in the corner with one of Bianca’s copies of Life Magazine while I mixed the sourdough to slow rise until the next morning and prepped as much as I could for the next day’s baking. As long as she was occupied, I went into the office and called Declan.
He answered on the first ring.
“I heard you came by,” I said. “I’m sorry I missed you.”
“Me, too, darlin’. It’s hard to go cold turkey from you for a full forty-eight.”
“You do say the sweetest things. But you make me sound like a bad habit.”
“Oh, no. A very good habit.” His deep voice dropped even lower. “At least I get to see you tonight.”
“Um, I think that can still happen,” I said. “But I have some news that might, er, interfere.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Less than an hour ago my mother showed up here at the Honeybee, completely unannounced.”
“Oh! Katie, that’s great. Isn’t it? I mean, I’ll get to meet your mom before you meet mine.”
“That’s true. But Deck, don’t be surprised if . . . Well, let’s just hope things work out between us.”
“I want that very much,” he said fervently. “As long as it’s the right thing for you.”
Now, that was just one of the reasons why Declan was so good for me.
• • •
“This is amazing,” my proper mother said around a bite of rosemary shortbread after I’d rejoined her. “You are so talented. I mean, I’ve always known that, but I—I’m really proud of you.”
I tried to hide
my surprise.
“Now, tell me about this killer Lucy implied that you’re trying to find.”
We were in the lull that generally hit between lunchtime and the late-afternoon rush for caffeine and sugar. So, haltingly at first and later with my words tumbling all over one another, I told her about Georgia Wild, about Wren and finding Autumn and the maroon bats and Fagen Swamp. When I finished, she was quiet for a long time. I began to regret sharing so much.
“You say your environmental group needs money? How much?”
Ah. She had decided to focus on something nice and safe.
“I don’t know. Bianca is loaning Wren enough to cover the rent for the month, and she applied for a loan this morning. Apparently there is some grant money that will come through eventually, but not right away.”
“Have a bake sale.”
“What?”
“You should have a big bake sale—a huge bake sale—to benefit Georgia Wild. It will make them some money, and it will be a great promotion for you. I know you’re busy, so I’ll be happy to organize it.”
“You know,” I said, thinking through her suggestion. “That might help. You are a wonder, Mama.”
She ducked her head but looked pleased.
“Lucy,” I called, “come hear Mama’s idea.”
• • •
About two o’clock Wren and Mimsey came in. They seemed joined at the hip these days, but I could see why. Mimsey was crazy worried about her granddaughter, and Wren had been through enough trauma that she wanted her grandmother around.
I knew what that was like.
Mimsey took to my mother immediately, despite knowing about her tortured relationships with magic, with Lucy, and with me. I filled them in on the visit Bianca, Cookie, and I had made to Fagen Swamp, and Wren shared her experience with the loan officer at Bianca’s bank.
“I know he’ll do his best, especially since Bianca vouched for me, but I got the feeling from some of his questions that there might be some doubt about whether a nonprofit can pay back a loan.”
“What about the grant money?”
“I have to take him more paperwork tomorrow to prove that it’s coming. That might do the trick.”
“In the meantime, my mother came up with an idea. Tell them,” I said.
Ben came over to listen while Mama told everyone what she had in mind. “I know it would have to be soon—say, three days—and that will be tricky,” she said. “Still, that should be enough time to put up posters and let organizations here in town know. I’ll contact the paper, and Ben said he’d contact the members of the Downtown Business Association, who would then pass it on. If we could send out to your local mailing list right away, they might receive the notice in time.” She looked at the ceiling, and I could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. My mother had a passion for fund-raising that had gone to waste in the small town of Fillmore, Ohio.
Wren bounced in her seat. “Katie, did you address those mailers last night?”
“They’re in my car, ready to go.”
“You know what we could do? Make up stickers announcing the bake sale and slap them on the mailers. If we hurry, we could still make today’s mail.”
I glanced at my mother. “That will commit us, though. And I really don’t have the time to do much more than extra baking. Do you really want to spearhead this?”
She nodded vigorously. “I’d really like to help.”
“I’ll contact our printer to make the stickers,” Ben said. “We’ve done a lot of work with them, and I’m sure they’ll be able to turn something like that around today.”
“Perfect,” Mama said. “Where are the mailers?”
“In my car,” I said.
Wren stood. “Let’s go get them.”
I hurried into the office to get my keys and the jewelry box with the filigree ring that I’d stuffed into my bag, then out to the sidewalk where Wren waited.
“I’m parked across the street, but hang on a sec. I wanted to show you that ring I told you about on the phone last night.” I extracted the diamond ring from its case and held it out to her. It glinted in the sunlight. “Do you know if this belonged to Autumn?”
She squinted at it through her glasses before slowly shaking her head. “I’ve never seen it.”
“Hmm.” I returned it to the box and stuffed it in my pocket.
Traffic was light, and nary a tour bus guide could be heard. That was unusual, to say the least. We crossed, and I unlocked the car.
Loaded with a box apiece, we started back across Broughton.
“I guess I’d better give it to Detective Quinn since it came from a crime scene,” I said. “It looks to be worth some real money, too. Maybe it’s included in Autumn’s will?”
Tires squealed on the pavement, and I whirled to see a late-model SUV careening around the far corner.
“Where’s the fire?” I muttered as we paused to let it go by. Without warning, it veered into the oncoming lane and headed straight for us.
“Katie!” Wren screamed.
Dropping the box I was holding, I turned and pushed her as hard as I could. At the same time I pushed against the metal monster bearing down on us. Wren fell between the Bug and the car parked in front of it, crying out as she hit the curb. I twisted my torso up onto the hood of my car, arms and legs pinwheeling as I rolled over to the sidewalk on the other side. I thumped to the ground, landing on my hip and arm. The pain registered someplace in the back of my mind, but I was too focused on staying alive to pay much attention.
A hideous crunching sound ripped the air, and Wren screamed again. The engine gunned loudly. Metal screeched on metal, groaning as it folded and crumpled. The Bug hid most of the SUV from my view, but I could see a heavy black tire far too close to my head and a flash of the white roof above as it backed away. Another tooth-numbing screech rent the air; then rubber squealed on the pavement. The roar of the engine receded as the vehicle accelerated away.
After a small eternity, I gathered my wits and pushed myself to my knees, absently grateful that for once I wasn’t wearing a skirt.
“Wren!” I was yelling even though she was only a few feet away. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Her voice shook.
Standing on wobbly legs, I took two steps to find she had crawled onto the sidewalk. She looked blearily up at me. It took a few seconds before I realized her glasses had been knocked off. Retrieving them from the sidewalk, I held them out to her. “At least they’re not broken.”
She didn’t reach for them. “No, but I’m pretty sure my arm is.”
“Wren! Ohmygodhoneyareyouokay?” Anguish rolling off her, Mimsey was upon us, followed immediately by Lucy, Ben, Annette from the knitting shop, Croft from the bookshop, about fourteen total strangers . . . and my mother.
Who stood blinking at me as though she didn’t know me at all.
Chapter 15
“I’m okay, Grandma, I’m okay.” Wren tried to stand but yelped when her wrist accidently touched the fender of my car.
Ben pushed through the primarily female crowd and carefully helped her to her feet.
“I called 911,” Croft announced.
“Thanks.” The response was automatic. Everything was automatic. I felt like a robot.
“What happened?” Ben demanded.
“A car, some kind of SUV, came around the corner and . . . I’m not sure what happened after that,” I said. “For no reason, it came right for us.”
“Did anyone else see anything?” he asked, looking around at the crowd. I heard him as if from a great distance, and then someone said from very far away, “The sunlight flashed off the window, so I couldn’t see inside.” Other voices gabbled agreement.
Sirens approached, and I realized I was now sitting on the curb without knowing how I got there. My mother was
dabbing at a cut on my arm with a damp towel. She was talking, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around what the words meant. She looked up and seemed to be talking to someone else. Strong arms lifted me, and I looked up into a pair of loving blue eyes.
“Deck,” I said, “put me down. I’m okay.”
“The hell you are.” His arms tightened protectively around me.
I wanted to close my eyes and let him take care of me. Sleep. Not deal with anything.
No. I can’t do that. Get it together.
The world came back to me in an audible rush. Colors were brighter, individual beads of humidity collided against my skin, and the afternoon sunlight swirled through the air. I could smell diesel and spice and Declan’s shampoo, hear his heart beating like a sledgehammer and his breath that sounded like a tsunami as he carried me into the Honeybee and over to the reading area. It was as if everything had somehow become more real. With eerily calm fascination, I took it all in, even as my senses began to fade back to normal. The whole experience lasted only ten seconds or so, but I knew the memory would remain with me for the rest of my life.
“Honest, I’m fine,” I managed to say.
Something in my voice must have been different, because after one gauging look into my eyes, Declan tentatively set me on my feet, his hands on my elbows as I eased onto the sofa.
“Wow. That was weird,” I said.
“It’s called shock.”
“Maybe.” But it had been more than that. I looked around. Mama had followed us in but was hanging back. I waved her over. “You two have met, then?”
Declan looked at her, and something passed between them. Suddenly they were both grinning.
“You do know how to make introductions exciting,” he teased.
I noticed he was still in uniform. “You’re here professionally?” I asked.
“We were doing building inspections nearby. Got here in two minutes. But I’d hardly call any response to your almost getting run down in the street professional. You scared the bejesus out of me.”
“Me, too,” Mama added.
“How’s Wren?”
“She’s on her way to the emergency room. Ben and Lucy are still talking to the police outside. I’ll be right back.”