by M. L. Briers
Even the large black cat sleeping in the front of the window and taking in the midday sun was like a red flag to a church lady, but the bubbling cauldron was a nice touch for those who still hadn’t got the message of what the store sold. It said; Halloween tongue-in-cheek, while highlighting the fact that everything inside had a witchy purpose if you knew how to use it.
“Way to go, Amber,” she muttered with a smile, and took a step forward, colliding with a young woman whose head was down, her eyes, of course, were fixed firmly on the screen of her phone, and they bounced off each other.
Sandy cursed under her breath and shook off the collision. She’d been too bloody-minded about reading the latest message she’d received from her psycho ex and not paying attention to where she needed to be.
She had a new life now in a new place, and she needed to live it, not stay chained to the sins of the past and a man she’d rather forget. But, bowling over the locals with her body and not her charm wasn’t going to win her any friends.
“I’m sorry,” she rushed out, stuffing the mobile in the pocket of the faded denim jacket that had seen better days four years ago and was now becoming a little threadbare. Threadbare or not, the pockets still worked, and that was all she cared about right now.
Claudia was knocked two steps back and two sideways by the unexpected encounter, and she had to admit, even if only to herself, that she’d barely stayed on her towering heels. Still, a lifetime of wearing them, especially when drunk, was good practice for all eventualities.
Typically she would have made a cutting remark and been on her way, but the woman who had run into her looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and that she couldn’t ignore. She doubted she’d meant any real harm, but the impression left by the stranger’s magic was a warning sign that she couldn’t ignore.
A chance encounter or something more; it was always good to know who your enemies were before they attacked. “No harm done. Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so; I’m not … this isn’t … I don’t … no,” Sandy rushed out frowning, and as fidgety as a working girl in church.
Sandy sure hoped they didn’t know each other. She’d come to Clearview to start over, and starting over didn’t work when you brought your baggage with you.
Claudia’s interest was piqued. It sounded like there was a story there, or at the very least something shifty going on. “Do your people live around here?” she asked. She could interrogate with the best of them; after all, you never really knew a person until you uncovered the skeletons in their closet.
“People? What people?” Sandy looked nervously about her as the rest of the town went about their business, and she felt stuck to the spot by the encounter with the rich lady in the beautiful clothes that she’d love to wear but didn’t think she’d ever be able to afford.
“Family,” Claudia spelt it out for her, and she did it with a comforting, but curious smile, and the patience of a woman who knew how to get to the bottom of things without upsetting the apple cart.
Sandy shook her head, but her lips were pressed firmly together, so firm in fact that they were turning white. She thrust her hands in her pockets and remembered her phone and the text – she didn’t have family, not any more.
“Are you passing through?” Claudia was like a dog with a bone, and she could see the young woman was getting more uncomfortable by the minute – that was a good thing, it meant she had her on the ropes and could go in for the kill.
Just as Sandy opened her mouth to speak, fate stepped in to thwart her.
The chime of the bell above the store’s door rang out, and Amber stepped forth. “Aunt Claudia!” she announced, taking in the scene. One scared to death city slicker that looked like a fawn caught in the headlights of Claudia’s incoming truck, and one aunt-not-an-aunt who was terrorising her – same old same old. “Welcome to Bells and Spells,” she said with a little glee and a lot of encouragement for the woman to leave the poor terrified girl alone.
“Looks fabulous, I love the window,” Claudia said and took her attention off Sandy to place it firmly on her niece-not-niece.
Sandy physically relaxed as she took a moment to breathe.
“I love it. I must see what’s inside,” Claudia said, and then hesitated in step and turned her attention back to Sandy, who snapped to attention again. “Amber, this is …” She waited a full five seconds. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it,” Sandy shot back and noted the woman’s chin slowly pulling back. “It’s Sandy,” she rushed out, hoping to spare herself the torture of another round of questioning.
“Sandy Connors?” Amber asked, and for one long moment, the woman looked as if her whole world was about to cave in on her and the government were about to abduct her.
“Yes,” she said, temporarily confused as to how she knew her name.
“Miriam from the diner said you were looking for a job, and it’s your lucky day, I have one,” Amber said, offering her a small shrug and a happy, encouraging smile.
“That’s…” Sandy found herself lost for words, and she looked to Claudia for a long moment as if she wasn’t sure what to do or say next.
“Good news,” Claudia announced, and Sandy nodded.
“Well, come on in and have a look around,” Amber said, sharing a knowing look with Claudia and the older woman raised a curious eyebrow. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”
“Oh, no, I was just walking,” Sandy said and snapped a look back at Claudia when the woman chuckled.
“And you do it so well,” Claudia teased referring to their encounter moments earlier.
Sandy snapped to attention again like a deer that heard a wolf on the prowl. “I’m sorry about…”
Claudia waved an absent hand in the air. “Neither of us was looking where we were going,” she said dismissing it. “After you,” she said and motioned for her to go in first. Sandy complied, and Amber stepped out of the way to allow her to enter.
On any other day of any other week, the sight of a crew cab driving through town wouldn’t have drawn Amber’s attention. A lot of farmers in the countryside had them, and they were a common sight, but today Amber felt obliged to stare at the nice shiny truck and the man looking right back at her from the passenger window.
Holy hells bells and spells! You sure didn’t get a lot of those in Clearview. She might not have been able to see all of him, but from what she could see; broad shoulders, muscled upper arms and chest – he was a big guy, and that big guy was male model sexy.
Yum!
Claudia drew alongside Amber, and when she whispered so as not to be overheard by Sandy, it snapped Amber out of her drool-fest. “There’s a story there.”
“And you are just the person to get it out of her,” Amber said with a cheeky grin.
“You bet your bony ass I am,” Claudia offered back with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a mischievous grin just before she walked into the shop.
Amber turned to search for Mr Sexy again, but all she saw was the back end of the truck heading out of town. Just her luck – it didn’t look like he was sticking around.
~
Charlotte Carmichael reached for the glass of red wine and eyed her friend across the lunch table at the only place to eat in town that wasn’t full of teenagers, truckers, or undesirables. It had a certain elegance, or tablecloths, glasses and real cutlery at least, but it wasn’t a five-star restaurant. Not that she needed five stars, but if you were going to sell yourself that way, then the potted plants were a nice touch, too bad they were plastic.
“Spit it out,” she offered a knowing look to her long time friend and sister in arms in all things witchy, Louann Porter, and waited for the other shoe to drop.
There had been an awkward silence since they’d sat down to eat, and that wasn’t like Louann, the woman usually had more to say than a politician on the campaign trail, and most of it was just as useful. But here she was silently playing with her food, and that wasn�
��t like Louann.
Louann gave her an innocent look, and Lottie knew that meant she was either in trouble or had caused some. “What?” Louann asked, trying to sound just as innocent as she looked.
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, Missy. You forget who it was that tried to stop you spelling Peter Small with the mumps, who held your hair while you puked after downing your first half bottle of vodka, who protected you from the police interviewing you after your first husband mysteriously died…”
“I get it,” Louann hissed back on a loud whisper as she sat forward on her chair and eyed her friend nervously. “I thought we were never to mention that last one again?”
“Ah, I’m never going to see my early sixties again, and the memory seems to be slipping, so you’ll forgive me if I ask you; why was that again?” The sparkle in her eyes said she knew well and good why that was, and Louann could have protested bringing it up for a second time and goading her, but she felt it was better left unsaid – as was so much of her life.
“Being in your sixties does not make you a candidate for senility, and I would appreciate a little decorum,” Louann scolded, and Lottie snorted a chuckle of disbelief.
“Listen to you, all Mrs prim and proper,” Lottie pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “Did you forget where we came from, Louann?” she asked and watched her friend fidget again.
“I’m well aware…”
“Even if you don’t like talking about it, I know,” she replied, and offered her another knowing smile, but the twinkle of amusement in her eyes said she wasn’t about to let it drop.
Louann decided to do what all politicians do at a time like this, and she threw a metaphorical dead cat on the table to change the subject. When you’re in a jam, always surprise them and offer them a bigger fish to fry. “I think I made a mistake by moving in with Marilyn,” she announced and Lottie snorted again.
“Told you,” she offered back, and for one long moment Louann thought her diversion tactic hadn’t worked, but then she saw her friend fidget in her seat, and she knew it had. “Why, what’s happened this time, or should I ask; who did you kill?”
CHAPTER THREE
~
“Funny,” Louann said, but the glare she offered told her that she wasn’t at all amused. “Nothing – much - happened,” Louann said, playing with the overcooked slab of unappetising salmon on her plate with her fork. If that fish was fresh today as the waiter claimed, then she was Tinkerbell, and she hoped to heck that she wasn’t because she hated fairies. “I just don’t feel welcome in my own home.”
“Well, that’s because it isn’t your home, it’s Marilyn’s home,” Lottie reminded her.
“That’s not the point…”
“It is so the point, and you just said so yourself; you feel unwelcome, and the only thing that can make you feel unwelcome in a home that you own – is a case of the lingerers,” Lottie said using her favourite word for ghosts and spirits that refused to pass on or couldn’t seem to find their way to the next world.
Louann leaned in over her plate and lowered her voice. “I may have two dead ex-husbands, but as far as I know they both went to a – better – place,” she said.
“Better than living with you when you’re all salty,” Lottie tossed back, and that made the corners of her friend’s mouth stretch upward as she sat back.
Funny how a couple of rich dead husbands could bring a smile to a woman’s lips, but that was Louann Porter in all of her glory. There was no doubt in Lottie’s mind that Louann had loved both men, but she was hard to live with, and a lot of the time she demanded perfection.
How many people were perfect? Louann certainly wasn’t.
“I’m not salty, I just don’t tolerate idiots well,” she said in a lofty tone and with a rise of her chin that said she wanted to end the conversation. Louann eyed the perfect way to do just that as the waiter, Dean Talbot, picked that inopportune moment to come towards their table. “Speaking of which.”
Lottie followed her gaze and groaned inwardly. “Oh, do get over it, Louann, Amber has,” she scolded her.
Amber Porter was Louann’s granddaughter, and the sun shone out of that girl’s backside, the only problem was, their poor waiter had dated Amber through school, and things didn’t end as well as could be expected. Louann took that personally.
“Do you call this fresh salmon, young man?” Louann demanded, and Lottie rolled her eyes and chuckled behind her hand. Louann was a formidable woman, and the whole town knew it.
Dean went ramrod straight and his gaze shot around the room as if he was either looking for the nearest exit – which would have made him smarter than he actually was – or he was looking for someone to help him, which was dumb because nobody wanted to go up against Louann. “Yes, Ma’am, it came in on the boat this morning…”
“Then the boat was delayed by a week,” Louann offered back with a scowl.
“I can get you another…”
“Why?” Louann tipped her chin down and eyed him from beneath her perfectly tweezed low eyebrows.
“If you’re not happy with…”
“You?” Louann placed her elbows on the table, fisted her hands together and rested her chin on them as she eyed him like he’d committed a crime and she was about to make him admit it. “If I’m not happy with you, what can I do?”
Dean looked around as if he was expecting the cavalry to rush to his defence, Goddess only knew he needed it when going up against Louann, but he knew that already and tried to duck out of serving her table whenever she walked in.
Today they were short-staffed, and here he was, being skewered by the old boot once more, and all because of one little mistake.
“Eat somewhere else,” he muttered under his breath and Lottie chuckled harder.
“What was that?” Louann asked, furrowing her brow and offering him a hard stare.
Lottie knew that she’d caught his words, the woman was getting older, but there was nothing wrong with her hearing. She could hear a penny drop from across the room, and she was more than likely to go pick it up, but that was a throwback to their early years when they didn’t have a pot to pee in.
“Oh, for Goodness sake, Louann, leave the boy alone,” Lottie said, riding to his rescue, and he gave her a half-smile.
Lottie could do a lot, but she couldn’t save him from himself, and one more quip like that and he was liable to be hexed with something that there was no cure for.
“He’s a man, Charlotte, not a boy,” Louann reminded her.
“And your granddaughter is a fully grown, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, woman,” Lottie shot back and raised her eyebrows, so she didn’t have to mention the witch-not-a-witch thing.
“Your point?” Louann asked, giving her both barrels of a hard glare.
“That doesn’t work with me,” Lottie reminded her, waving a dismissive hand. “And the point is, leave the man alone.” She noted the way that Louann seemed to crumble just a little, and it was a good sign, it meant that she was backing down.
Or she was until the idiot waiter piped up. “It was one little mistake…”
Lottie groaned and shook her head in dismay. “Couldn’t you have stood there and looked pretty? You had to open your mouth…”
“You slept with someone else while you were dating my granddaughter,” Louann reminded him with a look that could have turned him to ashes where he stood if she’d put a little magic behind it. “How very – careless of you,” she added with a dry tone.
“You can go now,” Lottie said, waving him away before he grew big pus-filled boils in front of her. That was never a pretty sight to begin with, but when the inflicted person was standing right over your food – that was a big no-no in her book. “I’d like to finish my meal without a dead body on the floor.”
Dean shot off like she knew he would. The man was a terrible boyfriend, and an idiot for messing with Louann’s granddaughter, but he wasn’t a glutton for punishment and knew when to c
ut his losses and run – this was undoubtedly one of those times.
Although, Lottie noted that Mr Talbot had developed a bit of a backbone in standing up to Louann since they last encountered him. Good for him, but too much push back and she wouldn’t be able to save him from himself.
Louann turned her attention back to the plate. “I hate fish,” she grumbled and tossed her napkin onto the table.
“Then, why order it?” Lottie asked, amused by her friend’s mood today. She seemed to be blowing hot and cold, and mostly cold, but there was definitely something wrong.
Louann sighed. “Fish oil, my charlatan of a doctor, said people of our age need fish oil,” she bit out as if the world held no wonders for her anymore.
“Then take a pill like a normal person.”
“And sound like you? You practically rattle when you walk,” Louann tossed back with a half-smile.
“But at least I don’t have to eat the fish,” Lottie said, scoring another point against her old friend. “Who peed in your cornflakes this morning, you’re in a sour mood?”
“I just feel …” Louann scrunched up her hands and her face as she tried to describe the sense of foreboding that resided within her. Something was coming, but she didn’t know what.
“You have feelings now? Who knew?” Lottie had the glass of red in her hand and was raising it to her lips when she saw the blood drain from her friend’s face. “Please don’t keel over at the table…”
“Vampire,” Louann said, and slowly cocked her head to one side as she stared over Lottie’s shoulder.
“What?” Lottie asked, placing the glass down and turning in her seat. “We haven’t had one of those here since…” She stopped talking the moment she spotted him.
Tall, dark, and handsome, the man was a silver fox, greying at the temples, but with sharp eyes and what were known back in her day as kissable lips, and he had a look that drew you in.