Think And Grow Witch: Witch Cozy Mystery (The Reluctant Witch Book 1)

by Maeve Hart

  Think And Grow Witch

  Cozy Witch Mystery

  Maeve Hart

  Book 1 The Reluctant Witch

  Copyright © 2017 by Maeve Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 1

  In the last forty-eight hours, I’d gotten engaged, found my fiancé dead, and then been accused of his murder. I thought that was bad enough, but then things took a turn for the worse. An accident in my grandmother’s spell room changed my life forever. Yes, that’s right, I said ‘spell room.’ My grandmother has a room set aside where she performs spells for money. Where I come from that’s not unusual. Did I mention I grew up in a family of witches? I was the only one who’d never been interested in the craft.

  Be it a god or a spirit, I knew I had an unnamed force that watched over me to protect me. For as long as I could remember, I’d known I was being watched.

  Rewind forty-eight hours.

  “Destiny!”

  “I’m sorry. I was distracted for a moment.”

  “It’s not surprising. He’s hot.”

  I looked up at Abbie in surprise and saw her drooling over the waiter who’d just brought us our coffees, so I explained, “I was having a childhood flashback. I wasn’t distracted by him.”

  “You should see someone about those.” Abbie gave me a sympathetic glance before she took another look at the waiter. I couldn’t blame her for staring. He was one of those tall, well-built guys who wear torso-hugging white tees. You normally see them leaving the gym just as you arrive.

  “You’ve got a boyfriend already,” I said, feeling it was my duty to remind Abbie of poor old Steve.

  Abbie was everything I wasn’t. She was five feet ten and stick-thin, while I was plump and—well, somewhat shorter than that. My only redeeming feature, I considered, was my long dark hair. Abbie’s hair was blonde and she looked like the wholesome girl-next-door type, albeit a more attractive version. She could’ve been a model if she’d wanted, but instead, she had a boring desk-job in advertising.

  Once she’d managed to pull her gaze away from the resident eye candy, I could feel her staring at me as I concentrated on carefully poking the froth that sat atop my cappuccino.

  “You’ve wanted Don to propose ever since you met him. And now that he’s doing it tonight, you don’t look happy about it.” She grabbed my arm. “Wait, have you changed your mind?”

  I looked into my best friend’s face. Instead of looking concerned, hopefulness sparked in her eyes. She didn’t like Don. That was no surprise—none of my friends or family liked him, although that hadn’t mattered to me until recently.

  Abbie guessed something wasn’t right from the look on my face. We’d been close since middle school and she knew me better than anyone.

  She raised her hands in the air. “Well thank the good Lord for that. I always told you he was no good.”

  Again, I lowered my gaze into my coffee. I’d have to drink it before it got cold. I hated cold coffee—it had to be piping hot for me to enjoy it.

  Abbie raised her cup to her lips without taking her eyes off me. “So, did anything happen? I’m guessing you’re turning off him, right?”

  I pressed my lips together, not wanting to tell her my true feelings until I had time to sort through them myself.

  Trying another approach, Abbie asked, “What makes you think he’s going to propose at the party tonight?”

  “There’s no actual reason to have a party and over the past weeks, we’ve talked about getting married at some point in the future. I mean, he raised the subject, and he’s already asked what kind of ring I’d like. He told me when the time comes, he’ll buy me the biggest and the best.”

  Abbie fluttered the black eyelash extensions that framed her vivid blue eyes. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, sorry that I’d shared a little too much about Don’s miserly habits. “Don’t be like that.”

  “He’s shown he’s too selfish to do anything nice for you. I don’t see that he’d put money into a ring. Anyway, I hope for your sake he does if you still want to marry him.”

  I shrugged and took a sip of coffee, and when I placed the cup back onto the saucer, I continued trying to convince her Don wasn’t so bad. “I told him I’d like a square cut diamond and he promised me he’d get me nothing less than three karats.” I was annoyed when I saw a smirk twitch at Abbie’s pink glossy lips. “You don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t, and I don’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth.” She tapped a packet of sugar, opened it, and poured it into her coffee while I took another mouthful of mine.

  I scratched my neck in aggravation. “Well, that’s what he said,” I replied, still talking about the ring.

  “I’ve no doubt he said it. What about that vacation in England?” Abbie stirred the sugar into her coffee.

  I grimaced as I remembered the vacation he hadn’t taken me on. I’d managed to lock that memory in a vault deep in the recesses of my mind. He’d taken his mother instead of me, saying it could be the last vacation she’d have, considering her age.

  Abbie shook her head. “I don’t know why you didn’t break up with him then and there. If Steve had done that to me, he’d have been out the door before I could say ‘get lost loser and make sure the door hits you on your ass on the way out.’”

  “It was disappointing, but that showed how caring he is toward his mother, and that’s got to be a good quality.”

  “Doesn’t do you any good, though, does it?”

  “They say how a man treats his mother is a good indication of how he’ll treat his wife.”

  “Humph.”

  I sucked on my lip and said nothing more.

  Abbie shook her head. “I’ve said all I can say.”

  I could tell she was annoyed, but I continued trying to make her like Don again, like she had before I’d told her too much about him. “He said we’d honeymoon in Paris.”

  “I wonder if his mother’s ever been to Paris.”

  I had to laugh. “Stop it, Abbie. People can change, you know. He said he was sorry when he realized how upset I was about England. Anyway, you’re coming tonight, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t want you to throw your life away on that man. He doesn’t deserve you.” Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t support you in this.”

  I knew it was hard for Abbie to say that she wasn’t coming to see Don’s proposal to me. Abbie had been my sounding board about Don and all the things he’d done. I couldn’t talk to my mother because she hated men with the same degr
ee of passion that women loved shoes. From my mother I’d learned that men are ‘no good, and they aren’t worth the trouble.’ Making a last attempt to have someone at the party that I cared about, I said, “It’s just that I told you things that I shouldn’t have told you. He’s changed since then; he really has.”

  Abbie raised her eyebrows at me again.

  I doggedly continued, “Every relationship has its ups and downs. A relationship needs to be worked on. We’ve been adjusting to each other.” I bit my tongue when I heard myself making so many excuses for him.

  “Yes, I know. He told you that you both come from different worlds. Meaning he’s rich, and you’re a lowly peasant.”

  That was the first derogatory comment he’d made to me. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. My mother had me so young and we had hard times and struggles, but we weren’t exactly in the poor house either.” Even so, it wasn’t easy growing up without a male around. I hadn’t even had an uncle. “Won’t you come? I’ll have no one else there. Mom, Granny, and Aunt Flora have all refused to be there.”

  “See? The people closest to you don’t like him. Doesn’t that tell you enough?”

  Lowering my head, I pulled a sad face hoping she’d laugh and agree to come. “Is that a yes?”

  She shook her head and her perfect shampoo-advertisement-worthy blonde hair swished around the top of her shoulders. “No. That’s a flat out ‘no.’ I told you, this is one thing I can’t support you in. I hope you’ll see what he’s like before you marry him, but I suppose there’s always divorce.” Abbie giggled suddenly. “Hopefully, it won’t all be for nothing.”

  Knowing what she was thinking, I frowned at her. “He’s having a prenup drawn up.”

  “What?” Abbie shrieked, causing me to jump a little.

  I shrunk low in my seat and turned around, hoping no one was looking at us. Thankfully, the other two couples in the restaurant hadn’t noticed Abbie’s sudden change in volume.

  “A prenup?” she asked in closer to normal volume, leaning forward.

  I nodded. “It’s quite a practical thing to do these days. The divorce rate is fifty percent or more now, isn’t it?”

  Abbie pulled a face. “It’s not romantic.”

  “No, it’s not, but it is practical.”

  “Are you having doubts?”

  I pulled my gaze away from hers, reached to my left, and grabbed the menu from the next table. “I wonder what they have to eat here.”

  “Destiny?”

  Looking up, I said, “Steak.”

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  Once I closed the menu, I looked my best friend in the eye. “Maybe I’m going off him a little.” The truth was, I’d been dependent on him and now I almost felt as though I could make it on my own. I didn’t even know how or why that had come about.

  A smile softened Abbie’s face at the news that I was having second thoughts. I didn’t know if that was what was happening, but Abbie had obviously taken it that way. My mind went fuzzy as I watched her pink lips tilt upward at the corners.

  “I feel faint,” I said. “I need food.”

  Abbie caught the attention of the waiter and I ordered a steak, glad that Abbie hadn’t mentioned the diet I’d started two weeks before. As usual, my skinny friend ordered a salad without dressing, making me feel bad—and fat.

  We went our separate ways after lunch. I’d been too preoccupied with my life to ask what she’d planned for that evening, but knowing her, she’d be doing something with Steve.

  Chapter 2

  I headed to my one bedroom apartment knowing that Don would be waiting for me with a line of questions and accusations. Don had unofficially moved in with me even though the apartment was only big enough for one. It was convenient for him to stay there through the week because it was closer to his work. I wasn’t brave enough to ask for help with the utilities, even though he was running up all the bills. He liked every light on and had the air conditioner permanently set to high. I didn’t want him to think I was focused on money otherwise he might think I only wanted to marry him because he was wealthy.

  Pausing at the door, the dream I had the night before came to me. It was about a man; frustratingly I never saw his face. Even though the image of him eluded me, the essence and feeling of his presence were very real and in my dream I was made for that man—and the man was not Don. I could even feel him nearby when I woke. It was the strangest sensation. Was some force warning me Don was not ‘the one’ and my true other half was still out there somewhere? But if my dream was to come true, where was he? I preferred to be grounded and not believe in fantasies like the rest of my family.

  Before I pushed the door open, I took a deep breath.

  One, two, three, through the door.

  I closed the door behind me and walked into a hallway that led past the tiny bedroom and entered the combined kitchen-living area.

  Don was sitting on the one-seater couch with a glass of something in one hand—no doubt alcoholic—and his nose in his laptop. After he’d looked up at me, he snapped the lid shut and placed the computer on the coffee table.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Out with Abbie,” I shot back.

  “Abbie?”

  I could sense his disapproval, or maybe he didn’t believe me.

  “Now we’re going to be late.” He scowled at me as he stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt, which I knew meant he was going to take a shower. For some couples unbuttoning a shirt when they were alone was a signal that sex was imminent, but we hadn’t had sex for weeks. It was his form of punishing me for the disagreements we constantly had.

  Don was an average looking man. He was taller than me with fair, wavy hair and hazel eyes. Annoyingly, he’d started growing some kind of facial hair that looked horrible. I hadn’t commented on it, and he hadn’t asked me what I thought of it. Surely he’d realize eventually that if I hadn’t mentioned it, that meant I didn’t like it—wouldn’t he?

  “Why don’t we just take a couple of minutes to talk? Relax a bit,” I suggested. Maybe if we had sex it’d put him in a better mood—besides, I hadn’t had it in a while and I was only human.

  He spun around and glared at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re late enough already.”

  I breathed out heavily and headed for the fridge while he went toward the bathroom.

  When I opened the fridge, I heard him yell, “Don’t drink too much. You know you can’t handle it.”

  I frowned. How did he know I was going to have a glass of champagne? I didn’t like being predictable. “I’m only having one glass. I hardly ever drink.” I had a feeling that was about to change.

  I poured myself a glass and slumped onto the couch. As I took a sip of the cold, bubbly liquid, I wondered what to wear. Nothing fitted. Ever since I’d met Donald, he’d been disapproving of me spending money on clothes or anything at all. On the other hand, he liked me to dress nicely, and I didn’t know how to do that if I wasn’t allowed to buy anything new. It was a vicious cycle—I knew whichever way I turned, I wasn’t going to come out a winner in Don’s eyes.

  Don had his good points, I reminded myself. He was kind and generous at times; the trick was to figure out when those times would be. I never knew what mood I was going to find him in.

  I sighed when I remembered my lack of clothing choice. I had no option but to wear the black dress I always wore on special occasions. The fabric was stretchy, and it was also low cut, which took the emphasis off my hips and onto my full breasts—the one advantage of carrying extra pounds.

  Although he hadn’t told me he was going to propose that night, I knew he was, and I was certain that he knew that I knew. It was something that was an understanding between us much like the understanding that he’d withhold sex for weeks after an argument.

  I wondered where he was hiding the ring. I scanned the room and couldn’t see any suspicious looking small packages. Knowing him, he’d probably taken it into the bathroom with hi
m.

  I sighed. A lot of effort had gone into this relationship from my side, and I didn’t want to start again with someone I didn’t know. That would mean all the time I’d been with Don had been a waste.

  “Are you going to get ready, or what?”

  I looked up to see Don glaring at me. He had one towel wrapped around his waist and was mopping his whiskered face with another. When my gaze dropped to his midsection, I could see I wasn’t the only one who had to watch my weight. The extra pounds he’d put on were my fault, he said, because now that we were together he didn’t have time to go to the gym. Apparently I was taking up all his free time and causing him to gain weight.

  I stood and drained the last drops of champagne. “I was waiting for the bathroom. I have to shower.”

  He shook his head at me.

  “It doesn’t take me long to get ready.” I hurried past him.

  “Just as well,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough so I could hear.

  While the shower jets spurted hot water against my back, I tried to figure out when we’d marry. It was June already, so perhaps a Christmas wedding?

  “Tic toc,” he yelled through the bathroom door.

  “I’m going as fast as I can.” I was too scared of him to point out that he could’ve saved time by having a shower while he’d been waiting for me instead of doing whatever he’d been doing on the computer. Better for him to take even more time and blame it on me—again. “I’m coming,” I yelled again when I turned off the water.

  Once I was dry, I pulled on my black dress, twisted my long brown hair into a knot, and reapplied my makeup. Then, all I had to do was find the high heels I always wore on special occasions. I threw the clothes I’d been wearing into the dirty clothes hamper. Heaven forbid I leave something on the floor. Once the bathroom was clean, I opened the door, hoping for a compliment.