“I guess I’m wondering if maybe you put a spell on me.”
“I would never put a spell on you. I don’t believe in manipulating people, no matter how big or small the maneuvering is. Forcing people to think or to feel a certain way is verboten in my book.”
He relaxed a bit. “What about on the flower?”
“Something like that I might do.”
“What type of thing might you have done with that flower?”
At that moment the waitress brought our lunches and tried to engage Roger in small talk. She was in her early twenties with a wild mane of auburn curls and was clearly trying to flirt with him, but he wasn’t showing any interest. I liked seeing that. By the time she backed away – darting curious glances at me all along as if she was trying to suss out if we were together or just eating together – he seemed to have forgotten the mystery of the poppy’s shelf life. Especially after I offered him a few bites of my surf-and-turf tacos.
Sometimes you can fill a man’s mouth and belly with food (or other things) and empty their mind of questions. I learned that trick from my mother.
After lunch the waitress came back and began mentioning dessert options. I tried to wave them off, but when she suggested cinnamon- pumpkin fried ice cream, Roger ordered it.
“I can’t resist that sort of thing,” he said.
“You don’t have to twist my arm on that. It sounds good. I’m just full so I probably won’t want more than a bite of it.”
The waitress returned a moment later with the treat. It had extra cinnamon and whipped cream on it, surely to entice Roger. As she walked away she gave a curious look.
“Do you know her?” I asked. “She looks at you like she knows you.”
“I come in here regularly, but she also was in the same year as my sister.”
That explained the look. I thought so, anyways.
Roger took a fresh spoon and broke off a big piece of the fried ice cream, dipping it in the cinnamon and whipped cream before bringing the utensil to my mouth. “Try it,” he said.
I opened my mouth and enjoyed the cool ice cream and the crisp shell. It had a wonderful blend of pumpkin, vanilla and cinnamon that danced on the tongue.
“What do you think?” Roger asked.
“It’s disgusting.”
His expression fell. “Really?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s so awful you shouldn’t even risk a bite. It would be safer to let me finish this.” I dipped my finger into the whipped cream and dabbed a bit of it on his lower lip, smiling as he caught onto my joke. I picked up a spoon and scooped up some of the treat for him, feeding him a big bite. “See? It’s revolting.”
He laughed. “Yes. That was kind of you to try and keep me from experiencing that agony.”
We polished off the dessert, and after that I was truly stuffed.
As we left the restaurant my good mood was slightly ruffled when I caught sight of our waitress and picked up a strong whiff of Love’s Baby Soft. “Is that your perfume I smell,” I asked her as I walked by.
She shook her head. “I never wear perfume.”
That was unsettling. I looked around but didn’t see anyone else nearby since the lunch rush was pretty much finished. I told myself not to think about it.
Roger took me back to his shop and I returned to my store, my car sounding as good as new, and my spirits high.
I made my way inside the boutique, greeting Vanessa with a smile.
“You look happy,” she said. “Did you have a good lunch?”
I nodded.
“And good company, too?”
I nodded again.
“That’s awesome,” she said as she gave a tiny happy clap. “So, I had a question for you.”
I stopped and waited.
She pointed to the counter. “This has to be some kind of magic, right? I want to know how you did this, because they weren’t there when I came in, and this is so cool.”
I went to where she indicated. There, where the poppy flower had stood alone just over an hour earlier, it was hidden. I approached carefully, looking in the center. There, deep down in the middle stood the poppy, still bright as ever, but almost entirely overshadowed by easily a couple dozen daffodils.
I was confused. “You didn’t do this, add them as a prank?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Mom didn’t come in and leave them?”
“No. We just had two customers. Fiona didn’t come by. I was in the front here the whole time, and one by one the daffodils sprouted up and bloomed, until the poppy was almost completely gone. Are you telling me this wasn’t your work?”
“No.”
“Would it be something Fiona would do?”
“I don’t think so.” I told her about what I had done with the poppy, giving Roger one stem, and how it had both flourished and foundered. “Mom thought it was interesting magic.”
“Let’s eliminate a suspect then,” Vanessa said, picking up the phone.
Two minutes later my mother was in my store, eyeing the daffodils.
“You didn’t do that?” I asked. “Elaborating on my poppy magic?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been thinking antiques and collectibles all morning. No magic.”
We all looked at each other, confused.
My mother turned on her heel to go back to Thingamajigs. “Let me know if you figure out what this all is. Maybe you overthought the poppy spell and this resulted.”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Or, if you can replicate this, I suggest branching out into flower arranging,” my mother said as she drifted out the side door.
Suddenly I thought of Ivy, and how she told me daffodils were her favorite flower.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered to myself.
“What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked.
“It’s just a thought that occurred to me. Van, can you watch the shop for me while I go get a few things?”
18
That night I made a few decorative – and magical – changes to my shop and home. The next morning, as I was admiring my handiwork, Lady Silvia walked in.
I gave her a scrutinizing look and hoped that she wouldn’t try and pick an argument. The bad mood I was in from listening to Heather gripe and grumble had finally started to recede, and I simply wasn’t in the mood to allow anyone to stoke my irritation.
“Is there anything I can do for you,” I asked, keeping my tone neutral, while sorting some herbs that I would later use to make candles.
Lady Silvia looked around, casually eyeing my merchandise. Her hair now had streaks of red, orange and yellow. She was otherwise dressed more casually, in a long skirt and simple sweater and just a few delicate bangle bracelets on her wrists and a pair of hoop earrings. I liked seeing a softer side to her.
She shrugged.
“You look really pretty today. I like the fall colors in your hair,” I said. “It’s festive.”
She murmured some thanks. Then she looked at me, clearly conflicted about saying something.
“I was hoping you could do a reading for me,” she finally blurted out.
I raised my eyes, not expecting to hear that. “Sure. Would you prefer cards or palms?”
“Palms,” she said. “I do both, but cards make more sense to me. I’d like to see what you do, and what you can, um, advise.”
“I’m the opposite. I can do cards, but palms feel more intuitive for me.”
She smiled at the admission.
I’d set up some flower arrangements around my shop. They looked festive for autumn with the inclusion of orange and yellow Gerber daisies and lilies, along with some bare red branches for contrast.
One small arrangement was set on the table where I did readings. I led Lady Silvia there and we sat down across from one another. She reached out and gently caressed the flowers, her fingers lingering on certain blooms.
“Most of these choices are unusual for flower arrangements. I’ve never seen some of these, like
the Scotch broom and St. John’s Wort in your shop before, either.”
“So now we’re reading one another,” I said, lighting a candle that had basil and rosemary in the wax, which I’d added for honesty.
“That’s an interesting prospect. Would you be game?”
I shrugged. “Why do you think I’d want a reading?”
“One, most people want to hear more about themselves. Two, I think you’re dealing with something.”
“I could answer that with ‘Most people are.’”
“Yes, but something is off about you lately.” She leaned in and looked closely at my face, then looked at the flowers. “You have those daffodils over there, which is odd. Especially since there’s a poppy in the middle of the bunch. Does that have some odd magical meaning?”
“That one is a long story,” I said, “and a strange little incident.”
“You also have Motherwort and Angelica in these arrangements throughout your store. You’re trying to keep something out. Or at bay.”
“That’s the real reason you’re here, isn’t it?”
“Emily and I both noticed something odd around you, and she believes you could use an extra magical hand with the problem. And whatever is happening around you – I’m not clear what it is yet – it has me curious.”
I was interested. “Okay, so let’s read one another.”
A half hour later Lady Silvia and I sat across from each other unscathed. She and I had been civil toward one another. She also had offered some interesting insights into my life, and I had seen some things I hadn’t known about hers. Including some vulnerabilities.
I had long assumed she had zero psychic talents, but I realized she had a touch of the sight. The rest was research – as in her knowledge of the protective plants I had placed around my shop – paired with a bit of theater, and clever people reading. Emily had been right, that she wasn’t all bad. That said, I still wasn’t sure she was all good, either. That could have been due to animosity that lingered from her feud with my mother, however. But who really was all good? I knew I was no saint.
I could also see that we’d spar again from time to time, but I think we at least had more of an understanding of one another, if not total trust and friendship.
I didn’t disclose my issues with Ivy’s ghost, but she did pick up that I was, for lack of a better word, starting to feel slightly encroached upon.
She, when I took a closer look, was mainly plagued with self doubts. I saw fear deep down in her. She wasn’t happy with her life. She’d thought that by the time she’d reached her current age – which was somewhere in her mid-forties – that she’d have things more together. That she’d be married and have a child or two. That she’d have a better income. All of those things had eluded her. She had been trying to glam it up by playing up her eyes, which she considered her best feature, and having her breasts enhanced, in hopes of luring male attention. I tried to approach these fears with a gentle touch and let her unload on me a bit.
“You won’t gossip about this, will you?” she’d asked once I’d heard her confessions.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe in doing that. I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t gossip about me either. Like when you told everyone in town about Tom’s St. Patrick’s Day mishap some years back.”
She grimaced. “Part of me hates to admit it, but am sorry about that one. I felt like I was crowing some big news when I came across your mother along the road, but I came to realize I must have hurt her feelings by talking about it.”
I shrugged. “My mom was hurt by that, but she’s mostly fine with it now. Who knows? Maybe because of it being spread around town, that led to Tom seeking help and their ultimately having a better life together.”
“That’s putting a positive spin on things,” Lady Silvia said.
I continued. “And knowing my mom, she was probably mad that she didn’t get to tell the story herself. No one could have told the sad saga of her getting stranded in the woods – in an evening gown and high heels no less – better than she could have. We all know that.”
Lady Silvia laughed, her eyes crinkling with amusement. It made her look more relaxed, more inviting. “If I’m being honest, I do feel jealous of your mother’s happiness with Tom. I used to fancy myself as a good match for him.” She grew quiet for a moment.
I waved it off. “Tom’s too old for you! He’s probably old enough to be your father.”
“True, but only if he started young. I always did find older men attractive. You probably think that’s disgusting.”
I shrugged. “Depends on the man.”
“Yes. Of course, the older men I do like tend to look good. I’m not interested in some old slob who’s balding and has a big pot belly. I like them put together, a bit more distinguished.”
“More Pierce Brosnan than Gerard Depardieu.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
I had to laugh at that. “I do tend to prefer men my own age, but I’ve lusted after a couple college professors. A friend of mine has a list – a long one, mind you – of bangable older guys.”
Lady Silvia sighed. “I’d love to go over that list with your friend.” She continued. “I have to confess, I resented your mother when I first saw them dating, but now I realize they are meant to be together. I also envy how put together you are.”
“I’m glad you think so. Lately I have my doubts.”
She waved off my concerns. “It’s a bump in the road.”
“It feels like a pothole. A huge one that’ll wreck my alignment,” I quipped.
“I guess it’s a good thing then that you have a certain mechanic interested in you,” she smiled.
I fought the urge to grin but lost. “Ha. If we’d agreed to actually pay for these readings I’d almost be inclined to give you double.” I paused. “I hope he’s interested. Sometimes I’m not so sure.”
“I’m sure. Word is you two were chattering away in some local watering hole, oblivious to the outside world.”
“That’s nothing earth-shattering.”
“I guess not. But Emily seems to think there’s something there.”
Ah yes, Emily and her uncanny talents.
“She is also a bit concerned,” Lady Silvia continued.
“How so?”
“She says you’re dealing with someone who is willfully blind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I get the impression that someone needs to see something in order to move on with his life.”
“Ah.” Now it was clearer.
“I have a recipe that will enhance one’s psychic sight. It’s temporary – soap and water will break the spell – but supposed to be very effective.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Dandelion? Seriously? I’d never have thought of that as an ingredient. I thought it was mainly to detox the liver – and for ritual purification.”
Lady Silvia crossed her arms and gave me a satisfied smile. “Use the root and the flower together. It’ll help. Reasoning won’t work in this situation. You’re going to have to show him what he needs to see. That might take care of your aggressive daffodils over there, too.” She tilted her head in that direction. I turned and could see a few more had sprung up.
I shook my head, partially in disgust. “I may need psychic Weed-B-Gone for that one.”
“Maybe. But you’ve got good wards set up, and you’ve got the recipe I just shared with you. That’ll help you get through this.”
I felt a load shift off my shoulders. I was glad to hear she thought my protections were solid. And the potion was an odd concoction, but quite doable. The ingredients made a lot of magical sense.
“Truce?” She asked, holding out her hand. “At least in private? I think the public squabbling is good for business.”
“Dueling psychics, you mean?”
She nodded her head vigorously.
“That does make life a bit more interesting, doesn’t it?”
“I agree. And somet
imes I just like to argue.”
“So long as you don’t spread gossip, I’m cool with that.” I had a feeling we’d be arguing again someday in the future, but maybe without less viciousness. Truth be told, today I really wanted someone to confide in as well, so her visit was a welcome one.
A car pulled up in front of my shop and a couple who probably were in their late fifties got out. They looked up at the sign in front and the woman motioned to her husband about going into my store. The man she was with, he simply shook his head and instead pointed toward Farley’s.
“He wants candy, and she wants candles,” Lady Silvia observed.
I laughed. “I can almost imagine how their conversation is going. She wants something that smells nice and won’t make her gain weight.”
“And he wants fudge.”
I began speaking in a deeper voice to imitate what the husband was saying to his wife. “‘No more shopping, hon. Let’s just get fudge and go to the casino.’”
“I think that is what he just said,” Lady Silvia laughed, turning back to look at me. “Can you read lips?”
“No. But when the door is open in the summer I hear countless couples having some variation of that same conversation day in and day out.”
“Let’s stir things up a bit, shall we?” Lady Silvia grinned.
“Uh-oh. What do you have in mind?”
“Just wait and see.”
She made her way to the door, opening it wide before turning to yell at me. “I can’t believe you sold me that passion potion! I couldn’t keep my husband off of me. I can hardly walk, thanks to your voodoo!” She proceeded to hobble away. “Oh God!” She pulled her phone out her pocket. “He just texted me a picture of his peter! He’s raring to go. Again. Damn you, girl!”
The couple watched Lady Silvia’s progress, and then the woman forcefully pulled her husband into my shop.
“Whatever you sold to her, I’ll take it!” she said breathlessly.
I had no passion potion to speak of, but thought I’d go along with it. She clearly wanted some sort of spark in her marriage.
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