After an invigorating shower, I dressed in clean jeans and a shirt. Somewhat renewed, I looked forward to my first experience eating in a restaurant. Back in New Wish, I went to a diner one time, but that didn’t really count. A non-coven resident had tried their hand at the small eatery hoping to draw tourists. Problem was, not many found their way into our isolated valley. The diner closed before a year was out. The meal I ate there tasted like something home-cooked from my mom. A real restaurant should have something different, and from the pictures, pizza looked unusual and tasty.
After a fifteen-minute drive, Toby pulled into the angled parking along Bentbone’s wide main street. The downtown spanned five or six blocks with tall brick and limestone buildings up to four stories tall. It was a small town but big by my standards. I’d been to Evansville twice with a friend and her parents. That place was huge. But even here in Bentbone, cars and people moved in all directions, and this was early on a Friday night. I couldn’t imagine what the bustle of weekdays might be like.
We walked half a block to Mama’s Pizzeria. Toby held the door for us, and Cerise swept her full skirt past him with a smile on her red lips. She seemed to enjoy showing off her family, and I couldn’t blame her. The boys fell in like ducklings after their mother, and I followed, hoping I didn’t trip while taking in the new place.
Smells of rich tomato sauce, pungent basil and oregano, and yeasty fresh bread made my nose happy but my stomach rumble. Booths with red vinyl bench seats lined two walls. In the room’s center, tables were laid with red and white checkered plastic coverings. Curtains of the same tomato-red print covered the lower half of picture windows along the front wall. Dark-stained plank flooring and paneled walls added to the coziness. A buzz of happy conversation and laughter warmed the air.
Cerise led us to a table for six and motioned to Bud as the waitress approached with a stack of menus. “We’ll need a booster seat for him.”
“You bet. I’ll be right back with one.” The slim teenage girl distributed the menus at the place settings and whisked away down a back hallway.
I settled into a chair and scanned the room.
Customers clustered around huge pizza pies served to their tables. A few glanced at our family, particularly at Cerise and Toby, whose Thirties-style clothing stood apart from the mostly jeans-clad crowd. I smiled, pleased that my outfit didn’t stand out, even if the legs of my jeans hung loose and wide like stovepipes rather than the form-fitting types most women wore. Glad to not be under scrutiny for my appearance again tonight, I relaxed into my chair and studied the menu.
Toby leaned across the corner of the table toward me. “We’ll get two pizzas. One plain cheese for the kids. You pick out what you’d like on the second.”
My mouth watered as I considered the toppings.
The waitress helped Toby set Bud up with a booster chair, and supplied crayons and coloring placemats to all three boys. “Have you all decided?” She pulled an order pad from her apron.
“We’ll have a large cheese and…” Toby looked my way.
I debated a moment longer between the toppings, then made a quick decision to try them all at once. “A large deep dish deluxe.”
“Great choice,” the waitress pocketed her pad and gathered the menus. “It’ll be about ten minutes or so.”
“I’m starved, and the deluxe sounds great,” Cerise said and directed Bud’s attention to the coloring page.
We adults joined in the activity and laughed with the kids.
The pizzas arrived steaming with fragrant basil. I pulled off a slice and sank my teeth into the soft, salty cheese. Olive and mushroom slices attached to cheesy threads oozed between my fingers. The meatballs and sausage added a hint of spiciness that tickled my tongue. I savored that first bite, not wanting to swallow. I’d never tasted anything like it, a party of tastes in my mouth.
Our family grew quiet, even Harry.
After three slices, my stomach felt full and warm. I whispered to Cerise, “Is there a restroom?”
She pointed over her shoulder to the back hallway. “The women’s is the first on the left.”
I maneuvered between tables past the kitchen.
Leaning against the take-out counter, a handsome, dark-haired young man, about my age, turned his head to follow me as I walked by. I guessed he was passing time while waiting for his order.
When I returned from the ladies’ room, his head snapped in my direction. His square jaw and large brown eyes held my attention. “You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked with a dimpled smile when I drew closer.
“Yes, I am,” I said with a flat tone, unsure how much to reveal to a stranger.
“I’m Eric Beck. I work here delivering pizzas.” He motioned toward an older man behind the counter. “My aunt and uncle own the place and want me to try all the jobs before they’ll let me be a manager. Oh—” He thrust a hand toward me, his gaze glued to my face. “Are you visiting the Rudman’s? They come in here often. Nice family.”
“Yes, sort of, for a while.” I shook his hand. When meeting new people, my haptics always proved useful. His raging hormones sizzled the skin of my palm, something I’d read before from a boy in school who had a crush on me. Curious about the sensation, I lingered a moment. To my surprise, a gush of my own desire sparked heat into my fingers. I pulled my hand free, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “My name’s Aggie. I’m moving into my own place in the coven soon.” The words slipped out like butter, too much information about myself to share with someone I’d just met. I bit my tongue to keep it quiet while fire crept into my cheeks.
“Cool. One of my friends is having a party next weekend. If you want to meet some new people here, you can go with me.”
“I…um…I don’t know.” I stammered. “I’m not sure, but thank you. Nice to meet you,” I turned, let out a silent sigh, and walked away.
I’d only taken two steps, when another male voice behind me said, “Eric, a witch at the party would be excellent. Is she coming?”
Not waiting for Eric’s reply, I strode back to our table and planted myself in my seat, head turned away from the counter. Wow, he’d only wanted me to be some sort of freak entertainment at a party. I hadn’t read that. How had my haptics gone wrong? My desire must’ve clouded my ability. I needed to be more careful. People here weren’t the same as back home. Not in the coven or in this town.
Chapter Five: Chai Tea and Challis Dresses
A knock on my attic bedroom door caused me to jump out of my thoughts and off the bed.
“Aggie, I brought some tea,” Cerise called.
I opened the door and stepped out of the way, while she balanced a tray with a pot and two mugs. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
She set the tray on the shabby Queen Anne lamp table. “The way you were so quiet on the way home and went straight up here, I thought you might like to talk.” She glanced at me.
“Yeah.” I flopped on the bed. “I guess I would. So much has happened.”
She poured amber liquid into the two cups and offered me one.
I sniffed the fragrant steam and detected orange, cinnamon, and cloves. “Mmm. Orange chai?”
“Yes. My favorite.” Beside the table, Cerise settled into the armchair upholstered in time-worn roses. “I used green tea rather than black so we both get some sleep tonight. You have a busy first day at work with Shireen tomorrow.” She blew across the top of the cup and focused on me. “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s just that I don’t seem to fit in here. In the coven, in town, and maybe even in the house I want to live in.”
Cerise leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “That reception you received from the old guard witches last night would’ve ruffled me too. I’m sure that was hard. Those old biddies resist all change. They’re always complaining about something. You just happen to be their problem at the moment, someone bringing new ideas into the coven.”
“It’s not them that worry me. We hav
e a few of those old crows at home, too. It’s that I lost my cool with them. My powers sparking from my hair might’ve frightened a few nice people who’ll now avoid me.”
Cerise perched on the edge of her chair and reached a hand to pat my knee. “And nice people might be intrigued with your different powers and want to learn about them. I know it hurt to not be welcomed by everyone, but remember, those who are unwelcoming and unfriendly, you don’t want for friends anyway.” She scooted back, took a sip of tea, and tilted her head to one side. “Why did you feel unwelcome in town?”
“At the pizza place, when I went to the bathroom, a guy about my age talked to me.”
“Oh?” Cerise’s long lashes lifted, and she set her cup aside.
“He seemed nice and was very cute. He asked me to go with him to a party with his friends.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. You came here to learn about people and have new experiences away from home. What’s his name?”
“Eric Beck. His aunt and uncle own the restaurant.”
“I know who you mean. A nice-looking young man. He’s always polite to us. Has even delivered pizzas here to our house, while other drivers won’t come into the coven. He treats customers right and clearly wants a place in that business. I can’t imagine he’d be rude to a customer under his uncle’s nose. What did he say?”
“It wasn’t what he said. He touched my hand, and my haptics told me he seemed for real. When I said I wasn’t sure about going to the party and turned away, another guy behind my back made a comment to Eric. He was excited Eric had invited a witch to the party.” I stared down at the cup in my lap, then glanced up. “I didn’t want to hear any more and got back to our table. Cerise, they just wanted me at the party to be some weird freak show. I thought I read Eric right, that he was a nice guy. Now, I’m doubting my witchcraft. And I sure don’t want to go to that party.”
She pursed her lips. “I can’t remember who else was there at the counter. You didn’t get a look at the other guy?”
I shook my head.
“Well, I can see why you wouldn’t want to go to the party. Most townies are respectful and courteous, even if a bit distant. Once in a while, local teens try out pranks on us, but that’s just normal behavior for that age, nothing dangerous. But don’t misjudge Eric. What you described doesn’t sound like the boy I know.” She looked me in the eye. “And for heaven’s sake, don’t mistrust your powers.”
I nodded. “All this has made me wonder whether the curse on your family’s house is true, that outsiders aren’t welcome. I seem to be running into the same message everywhere.”
Cerise sat beside me on the bed. “Like I said, not everyone here will like you. That’s just life. You came here to learn about other people outside New Wish. This is one of the lessons. Just be yourself, and the people worth knowing will like you.”
“I know. I guess I’m just in a rush to make new friends to hang out with.”
“You need to get some good sleep. Tomorrow’s your first day at the dress shop.” She picked up a brush on the bedside table. “How about if I brush out your hair so you relax?”
“That’d be great.” I turned sideways and pulled the elastic from the tail of my braid.
Her fingers gently unwound the strands. She made slow downward strokes working her way through the length. When she brushed my crown, warm tingles spilled along my spine and limbs. I closed my eyes, and a contented, cat-like purr vibrated at the base of my throat.
***
I waved to Cerise as she pulled around Shireen’s circular drive toward the road. I turned and read a hand-painted sign above the front porch steps, Seamstress to Coon Hollow Coven, Fine Women’s Fashions, established 1930.
“Hello, Aggie,” Shireen called from the open door. “Fifteen minutes early, a mark of a good employee. Glad you’re here.”
“Can’t wait to start.” I pointed at the sign as I ascended the steps. “Established in 1930? You don’t look that old. Do witches here have immortality?” I asked with a laugh.
“Heck no. Though some are trying to make that happen with connections to their departed kin.”
“Really?” I stared at her, almost missing a step. “The spirit world here sure has a lot of power. Nothing like what we do back home.”
Shireen laughed and waved a hefty arm. Her chicken skin floundered from the short sleeve of her rose-print dress and swung in waves. “My grandma was the founder of our store, and Ma started here in her teens. I’m tellin’ you, it’s work to keep up their reputations.”
“From what Cerise says about your designs, I doubt that.” I joined her inside and wondered if I’d spoken too soon. The shop lay in wild disarray with racks jammed together into one of the two showrooms and bolts of fabric tossed around the open floor space.
“Thank you kindly, but their spirits are part of life, like it or not. Ma has her own way of keepin’ me on my toes, as you can see.” She nodded to the scattered mess, then pointed to a black and white photograph on the wall. “Her way of lettin’ me know to get a move on with winter fashions.”
“Oh.” I stepped around the thick rectangular rolls and examined the picture. The woman had jet black hair in a simple low bun. Her expression looked stern and work-worn except for a warm twinkle in her eyes that seemed alive with motion. A gold marker on the lower edge of the frame read: Hypatia Meiklam, 1933-2009. The name seemed oddly feminine for a woman who appeared so upright and plain, much like her daughter. I turned away, but felt as if her eyes were on me as I knelt by bolts of heavy woolens. “I know these two. This one’s melton.” I rubbed a hand across the plush thick nap. “That’ll make nice warm jackets and winter capes. And that forest green Donegal tweed with yellow and red flecks reminds me of a jumper my mother made me when I was a child.”
“Land sakes, girl! You do know your fabrics. If I’d known that, I’d have hired you lickety-split, soon as you walked in my door.”
I ran a hand along my jeans-clad thigh, shrugged, and gave a lop-sided grin. “You’d not know by how I dress. My mother sewed for the family and for others in the coven who couldn’t. I helped her some.”
From underneath dresses crammed on the tangled clothes racks, Shireen’s calico cat hissed at me.
“Tiber, I warned you to be on good behavior today,” his mistress scolded.
Paying no heed to her warning, the witch’s familiar darted closer, ears pinned, fangs bared, orange rings forming around his pupils.
Warmth spread through my arms, alerting me of my own sparking fire. Ignoring both alarms, I fingered a soft navy flowered fabric. “This is so nice. Challis, right?” When I looked up, the cat’s tail disappeared into the maze of hanging garments. I stared after him for a moment, puzzled.
“It is. In a wool blend so it has nice drape. Scarce as hen’s teeth, and one I’ve been saving. I was thinkin’ that’d make you a pretty dress.” Shireen hoisted the bolt into one arm, unwound a length of cloth, and held the free end to my face. “Nice. What’d you think?”
The softness tickled my chin. “Oh, yes. I’d like that, with a full skirt?”
She laughed and handed me the bolt. “You’re a twirly-skirt girl disguised as a tomboy. I’ve got just the pattern.” She moved fast for a heavyset woman, darting through a doorway into the back of the shop. “Come on along.”
I tried to set the bolt down but wasn’t ready to part with it. The image of a dress of this challis enveloping me sent goose bumps down my arms. Carrying the fabric, I followed.
“We’ll have a look at that pattern, then you can help me match up other designs to fabric so we can get to making them up. Winter’s upon us.” She gestured to a long trestle table littered with tissue paper and large envelopes covered in fashion illustrations. “Set that down and have a seat.”
I opted for the side of the table with a long bench and placed the fabric beside me, the loose end in my lap.
Shireen stood across from me and shuffled packets my way. Horn-rimmed eyeglasses dang
led against her heavy bosom. She put them on and glanced over the top as she leaned closer. “You’ve taken a real likin’ to that challis. Maybe we should be making you a nightgown of it instead.” She shook her head with a far-away look in her eyes and chuckled. “Strange thing, my ma bought that piece before she died. One of the last I have. From the time I was a child, I knew she left bits of her magic in some garments she made. My school dresses often gave me daily reminders to be polite to my teachers. Didn’t think she ever enchanted cloth not yet made up, but maybe she did. Let’s find out. Move the challis away from you, and tell me what you feel.”
I wound the fabric around the bolt and scooted it to the other end of the bench. Feeling no different, I shrugged and picked up a pattern.
With a loud hiss, Tiber leaped onto the table, glaring at me with blazing orange eyes. “Outsssssiderr,” he snarled into my face.
He clawed three parallel scrapes across the back of my hand before Shireen could grab him.
The scratches swelled but drew no blood. Anger and sun energy welled into my fingernails, which glowed like hot coals, ready to burst into flame.
“Aggie, hold off! Grab that challis.” Shireen clutched a second arm around Tiber, who pawed the air sending electric waves that stung my face.
I hesitated, not wanting to take my eyes off of the devilish feline.
“Do it!” Shireen barked.
Keeping watch, I slid along the bench and pulled the bulky bolt into my lap.
Tiber’s tail shot straight out, hairs on end. His eyes changed from orange to yellow to his normal cool green in less than a minute. He wiggled from under his mistress’s arms and zipped out the room.
“Sakes alive! I’m so sorry, Aggie. Do you want those scratches treated?” Shireen grabbed hold of my injured hand.
“No.” I pulled away. “Maybe later if it starts to hurt more. Just stings now.”
She planted her hands on her pear-shaped hips. “Well, I’d not believe that if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes. Whatever garments I still have that she enchanted always set Tiber runnin’ scared, just like that. Ma must intend that fabric for you, girl. Sort of a protection. She must approve of you helpin’ me out.” Shireen beamed.
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