Witch Some Win Some
(Witch of Mintwood, Book 2)
by
Addison Creek
Copyright © 2016 by Addison Creek
Cover Design © Broken Arrow Designs
This novel is a work of fiction in which names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is completely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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Chapter One
Mintwood’s beautiful downtown and its beloved Main Street had a number of delightful shops, but even with a cute downtown, or maybe especially with a cute downtown, the owners and proprietors of the delightful shops did not always see eye to eye, or shop sign to shop sign. When a dispute arose, Mintwood’s Town Council always did its best to bring about a fair resolution. When a fair resolution could not be landed upon, competition was the best way to solve the problem.
The hallmark of a good downtown, many Mintwood citizens believed, was diversity in the types of shops doing business there. What the shops offered for sale was very important.
That mix of perfectly curated shops was a necessary ingredient if a good downtown like Mintwood’s was to thrive. Main Street had taken a long time to reach perfection, but once it reached the heights toward which the shop owners and the council had been striving for years, it was important that it stay perfect.
The optimal mix of shops, of course, starts with a bookstore and a delightful café. There needs to be a shop that sells items for tourists who come to visit; the beautiful glass cat, the locally carved bowl, and the hand-painted wall hanging must all be available downtown. Beyond that basic list, there might be a cheese shop or a candy shop or both, and there will certainly be a gallery where local artists can display their work. Maybe there’s a fancy restaurant, and possibly an ice cream shop.
In Mintwood, the typical antique shops and those displaying special furniture and glassware were interspersed with the essentials. There was a fine jewelry store and an antique jewelry store and one or two shops that sold clothing; in Mintwood’s case, the Twinkle Costume shop fit that bill.
One blustery September evening, when the leaves were in the midst of turning and it wasn’t cold enough to justify starting a fire or turning on the heat, but still cold enough to require a sweater, Greer, Charlie, and I were sitting happily in my grandmother’s kitschy living room discussing the latest news of the day. Today’s news included an announcement that the apple orchard in Caedmon had delicious apples, and a story about how Greer had kicked repeat offenders out of the bar the night before and promised to do it again if they kept causing a ruckus.
Charlie had made us warm peppermint tea, which we were now pleasantly sipping from steaming mugs my grandmother had collected at random from local craft fairs over the years. Charlie was recounting a story from that day’s Mintwood Gazette.
In short, the three of us were having a lovely evening, not made less enjoyable by the fact that we could periodically see the ghosts on the front lawn flitting past the windows.
“This place is like a wind tunnel,” said Charlie, snuggling further into the blanket she was wrapped up in.
She wasn’t wrong. The house was old and very drafty, a problem that would only get worse with winter’s approach.
Just as one of the ghostly tea ladies walked past the window yet again, car lights in the driveway drew our attention to an uninvited and unexpected arrival.
The three of us exchanged confused glances.
“Were you expecting anyone?” Greer asked. “I can’t see the car very well.”
Neither Charlie nor I was expecting company, and said as much. The ghosts scattered every which way when I went to look out, except for Paws, who hopped up on his little box under the window to get a better view, his jeweled collar glinting in the light. “Finally some excitement,” he said.
It didn’t take me long to see that our guest was Liam.
“What could he be doing here?” Charlie asked.
Liam owned the Twinkle Costume Shop. He was a town fixture and a town character. We had gone to high school with him, and we had also hung out with him on several occasions since we’d all been back in town. All of us liked to visit the Twinkle and catch up with Liam.
The car had barely stopped when Liam careened out of it and stormed onto the porch, his face matching the stormy sky overhead. Paws watched in fascination as Liam stomped up to the front door. Greer was quicker than I was, and before Liam could even pound on it she had opened it. He stared at the three of us breathlessly for a moment, then said, “I need your help, and it’s a matter of life and death.”
Chapter Two
Like any nosy small-town good friend desperate for information, and spurred on by Liam’s dramatic words and frantic demeanor, we invited him inside and hoped he’d talk as much as possible.
Now more excited than ever, Paws was staring at us through the window and disconcerting the three of us who could see him. We left him to it; we wanted to pay attention to Liam.
We finally got him to calm down enough so that once he was seated and sipping his own steaming mug of fragrant peppermint tea, he was ready to explain himself.
“I’m so sorry for barging in on you like this,” he said. “I tried calling from my cell, but of course that didn’t work, and I couldn’t be bothered to call land line to land line. I thought it best if I just came.”
He glanced at me as he spoke, then looked around at the cluttered room and the green furniture with great appreciation. “Your grandmother had excellent taste. What I wouldn’t give to have a look in her closet!” he said with a wistful shake of his head.
A slight pang tightened my chest at the mention of my grandmother and the clothes she had always worn that were so familiar to me. I knew that at some point I should give away stuff of hers that I’d never use, like the outfits that would never fit me because I was five inches taller than she had been. As proven by the ugly green necklace I wore, my grandmother and I preferred slightly different styles.
“Maybe sometime,” I said. Liam gave me a sympathetic pat on the knee.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
> I smiled and told him it was all right, then ordered him to get on with his story. Gossip in Mintwood got stale faster than bread, and we were all anxiously waiting to hear what he had to say.
“It really is the worst, most unimaginable horror,” he said. “I never thought small town politics would go this low.” To emphasize the point, he brushed his fingertips and palm against my grandmother’s worn out rug.
Charlie, always on the lookout for a good story, grabbed her notepad and pen and looked eagerly at our friend. When he didn’t continue fast enough, she flung her blond hair over her shoulder and out of her face impatiently.
“You look unconscionably eager,” Greer told her.
“Thank you,” said Charlie.
Liam glanced at the two of them. “When this is all said and done,” he said, “I would love for you to do a write-up about my winning. It’s important to gloat.”
“Do continue,” said Charlie.
Liam took a deep breath and started. “You know how it’s Mintwood’s two-hundredth anniversary this year, and the town council has celebrations planned in every season? I’m terribly excited about the holiday parade and the summer parade and the ice cream festival coming in the spring. And the town is dispensing many honors, most of which I’m sure I deserve.”
Greer, Charlie, and I all nodded. We were aware of the two-hundredth anniversary celebration. Everyone in Mintwood was aware of it, and if there was a resident who had initially shielded him or herself from the information, I felt confident that the mayor had gone to that person’s house personally to tell them. No one had been left uninformed.
Liam swallowed, looking pained, then continued in his patented oratorical style. I always wondered whether, in the recesses of his mind, he imagined he was addressing a crowd or even giving a sermon.
“The town is also asking the storefronts on Main Street to spruce up a bit, a request which of course I completely agree with and support. I change my display every other week and I have my windows washed expertly by Michael, as does everyone else in town, but even so, it’s difficult to keep up appearances. Come to find out there will be a ribbon-cutting ceremony downtown next week that is surely going to go on the front page of the Gazette. It’s literally the biggest thing to happen downtown since Farmer Henry’s pumpkin was named the biggest in the county last fall. He was so excited!”
See what I mean about standards for excitement around here?
At this point Liam paused and took a breath, giving a nod to Charlie, who nodded in return. “I’m sure it will be the biggest deal and on the front page,” she murmured.
“Well, I’ve been going along thinking that of course the ribbon-cutting ceremony would take place in front of the Twinkle Costume Shop, because of all the shops in the downtown area, the Twinkle is by far the most original and colorful. Besides, it would look delightful on the front page of the newspaper if I do say so myself. On top of that, it’s in the prettiest part of downtown. The trees are gorgeous, and if the photographer uses the right angle, the shot will include the library as well. Simply put, my shop would be so divine for the role that I thought it was the obvious choice.
“Furthermore, I don’t believe the other stores dispute my assessment. The Daily Brew has been featured on the front page of the paper at least five times because of their award-winning dark roast, and that’s as it should be, because their dark roast is delicious, not to mention their lemon scones, which are, as we all know, also delicious. Therefore, I foolishly considered it a foregone conclusion that Twinkle would have its day in the sun, so to speak.”
Liam had started breathing hard again, a clear signal that he was coming to the most serious part of his tale. We could all see where this was going, in fact. Having grown up in Mintwood, we were well used to the process of government allocation.
“This evening I found out that the Artist’s Art Gallery thinks that the ribbon-cutting ceremony will be held in front of their shop, because as professional artists they have the ability to make their storefront look better than any of the others, including Twinkle. Okay, so they have won other contests in other years, I admit that. But I have told them that we are all artists at heart, and simply because someone has art in a gallery, that does not make that person more of an artist than, say, myself. They told me in no uncertain terms that when all was said and done, the ribbon-cutting ceremony would not take place in front of my store, to which I replied that we would see about that.”
Greer, Charlie, and I exchanged looks. I didn’t have a lot of experience with the Artist’s Art Gallery, but it didn’t surprise me that they thought they could make a better storefront than Liam’s. They’d be the type.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
Liam nodded. With a hard expression on his face he said, “So I determined that there is only one course of action I can take . . .”
The three of us looked at him expectantly until he ended his dramatic pause by saying, “I have to have the best storefront this town has ever seen, and I want three particular people to help me. We’ll show those professional artists what a few regular folks can do.”
“Very artistic,” said Greer. “When professional artists tell me they’re better than I am at art, I pretty much tell them they’re right.”
“When have you ever had that conversation with a professional artist?” Charlie demanded.
“That’s not the point,” said Greer, taking a long sip of tea in response to a frustrated look from Charlie.
“I can give a lot of directions,” insisted Liam. “I just need help. There are at least ten artists crawling around that gallery all the time, and I can’t stand being alone in the shop when I know they have a whole crew working on their display.”
“Of course we’ll help you,” I said. “We’d love to.”
After we assured our friend that we would do what we could, he looked considerably more relaxed.
There are few truths more universally acknowledged than that politics in small towns like Mintwood is big news. Liam’s bringing this ribbon-cutting ceremony to our attention, and his idea that the location of the ceremony could be determined by a polite competition of sorts, was a perfect candidate for the biggest deal in town.
“Do you really think we can help him?” Charlie asked Greer and me after Liam left.
He had driven away with promises of a major shopping trip that we would undertake with an eye toward acquiring decorative supplies. “I know all the right stores,” he assured us.
“As if we were concerned,” said Greer. “Can’t you just threaten to write bad articles about the gallery in the Gazette?” she asked Charlie.
“That’s very low of you,” Charlie sputtered. “I would never betray my office like that. Journalists have integrity!”
“It’s a ribbon-cutting ceremony in a town of four thousand,” said Greer.
“Slippery slopes,” muttered Charlie.
“Then Liam’s in a whole lot of trouble unless Lemmi’s hiding some hidden artistic talent.”
I nearly choked on my tea.
The next night, Charlie, Greer, and I were driving back from the town of Caedmon, where we’d had dinner at a cute little restaurant called Beans and Greens that we had all been wanting to try.
Usually we ate dinner at home in an effort to save money, but we decided to treat ourselves tonight. Charlie was still getting over her breakup with Andy, her boyfriend from high school. The case of Gracie Coswell was still fresh in our minds, and I thought we deserved a little celebration.
“What’s the news on Deacon?” Charlie asked our bartending friend. Night had fallen and we had left the merriment of Caedmon for the quiet, winding road home.
Greer made a face. “We’re hanging out sometimes. Nothing official. He’s a good friend.”
Sitting next to me in the front seat, Charlie looked back at Greer and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, are you? Hanging out, I mean.”
Charlie’s tone prompted Greer to roll h
er eyes. “Like I said, he’s a good friend.”
“I’m sure he loves your attempt to try and friend-zone him,” said Charlie.
“I just can’t help it! There’s something about him, and it drives me crazy!” Greer suddenly burst out.
Neither of us responded. It wouldn’t do any good to say so, but we were both secretly hoping they’d work it out. They had been together for so long because they loved each other, that much was obvious. Deacon adored Greer in a way I totally thought she deserved, and now that they’d had some time apart, no one could say that they hadn’t grown into themselves. Well, Greer was still working on it, or surely she wouldn’t have been in any doubt about Deacon.
After Greer’s outburst, there was silence in the car for a while.
The newly-paved road led us smoothly along the Babbling Brook Lake and back to Mintwood. It was a beautiful drive that I’d enjoyed many times with my grandmother when I was younger, and I was happy to be doing it again with my friends. Soon we’d be rounding the corner where we’d pass the Babbling Brook Barn that Jasper Wolf was updating, and I was curious to see how the work was progressing.
Jasper had been in our high school class too, but until recently I hadn’t seen him for years. When I came back to Mintwood and found him running his grandfather’s successful construction company, I took him to be – I’ll admit it – nothing but a greedy corporate suit. I had gone so far as to join the protest again his purchase of the barn and his plan to tear it down and replace it with an apartment building. But he had sought me out and we’d talked, and after some negotiation he had agreed to preserve as much of the barn as he could.
Oh, and I had realized he was a really good guy. My judgment was in no way clouded by how attractive he was or tainted by the fact that I’d had a crush on him since high school.
Charlie and Greer were busy arguing about who’d had the better dinner – Greer had the steak and Charlie the fish – when something bright and sparkling ran in front of my car and caused me to scream and swerve. My friends screamed as well, while I slowed down and pulled the car over as quickly as I could. This late in the evening there was no one else in sight.
Witch Some Win Some (Witch of Mintwood Book 2) Page 1