"First glass is on Carl Macey." Betsy shot Mia a wink. "He gave me orders."
"Tell him I enjoyed it." She sat down across from Nell. "Did you drive over?"
"No, I walked."
"Do you drink alcoholic beverages?"
"Now and then."
"Have one now. What's your pleasure?"
"The Cabernet'll be fine. Thanks."
"Two, Betsy. Damn, I love these things." She began to pick through the snack bowl. "Especially the little cheese ones that look like Chinese symbols. So, I brought you a book. A gift." Mia nudged the book toward Nell. "I thought you'd like to read about where you've chosen to live."
"Yes, I've been meaning to. The Three Sisters: Legends and Lore," she said, reading the cover. "Thank you."
"You're settling in now, getting your feet under you. I should tell you first that I couldn't be happier with your work."
"I'm glad to hear it. I love working at the café, the store. I couldn't have tailor-made a job I'd like more."
"Oh, you're Nell." Catching the comment as she served the wine, Betsy beamed. "You're always gone when I get to the caf6. I try to zip in before I open the bar. Great cookies."
"Thanks."
"You hear from Jane, Mia?"
"Just today. Tim got his audition, and they're hopeful. They're paying the rent by working at a bakery in Chelsea."
"I hope they're happy."
"So do I."
"I'll leave you two alone. Let me know if you need anything."
"So." Mia lifted her glass, tapped it to Nell's. "Slainte."
"I'm sorry?"
"A Gaelic toast. Cheers." Mia brought the glass to her lips, watching Nell over the rim. "What do you know about witches?"
"Which sort? Like Elizabeth Montgomery on Bewitched or the ones who wear crystals and burn candles and sell little bottles of love potion?"
Mia laughed, crossed her legs. "Actually, I wasn't thinking of Hollywood or pseudo-Wiccans."
"I didn't mean to be insulting. I know there are people who take the matter very seriously. A kind of religion. That should be respected."
"Even if they are kooks," Mia said with a hint of a smile.
"No. You're not a kook. I understand… Well, you mentioned it that first day, then your conversation with Ripley yesterday."
"Good. Then we've established that I'm a witch." Mia sipped again. "You're a sweet one, Nell. There you are, trying very hard to discuss this intelligently, soberly, when you're thinking I'm—let's say—eccentric. We'll table that for the moment and go back in history so I can lay some groundwork for you. You know of the witch trials in Salem."
"Sure. A few hysterical young girls, fanatical Puritans. Mob mentality. Burn the witch."
"Hang," Mia corrected. "Nineteen people—all innocents—were hanged in 1692. One was pressed to death when he refused to declare himself innocent or guilty. Others died in prison. There have been witchhunts throughout time. Here, in Europe, in every corner of the world. Even when most stopped believing, or admitting to a belief, in witchcraft, there were hunts. Nazism, McCarthyism, the KKK, and so on. Nothing more than fanatics, with power, pushing their own agendas and finding enough weak minds to do the dirty work."
And don't, Mia thought, taking a breath, get me started. "But today we're concerned with one microcosm of history."
She leaned back, tapped a finger lightly on the book. "The Puritans came here, searching, they said, for religious freedom. Of course, many of them were only looking for a place to force their beliefs and their fears on others. And in Salem, they persecuted and murdered blindly, so blindly that not one of the nineteen souls they took was the soul of a witch."
"Prejudice and fear are never clear-sighted."
"Well said. There were three among them. Women who'd chosen this place to live their lives and live their craft. Powerful women who had helped the sick and the sorry. They knew, these three, that they could no longer stay where they would, sooner or later, be accused and condemned. So the Isle of Three Sisters was created."
"Created?"
"It's said that they met in secret and cast a spell. And part of the land was torn away from the mainland. We're living on what they took from that time and that place. A sanctuary. A haven. Isn't that what you came for, Nell?"
"I came for work."
"And found it. They were known as Air and Earth and Fire. For some years they lived quietly and at peace. And alone. It was loneliness that weakened them. The one known as Air wished for love."
"We all do," Nell said quietly.
"Perhaps. She dreamed of a prince, golden and handsome, who would sweep her away to some lovely place where they would live happily and have children to comfort her. She was careless with her wish, as women can be when they yearn. He came for her, and she saw only that he was golden and handsome. She went away with him, left her haven. She tried to be a good and dutiful wife, and bore her children, loved them. But it wasn't enough for him. Under the gold, he was dark. She grew to fear him, and he fed on her fear. One night, mad with that hunger, he killed her for being what she was."
"That's a sad story." Nell's throat was dry, but she didn't lift her glass.
"There's more, but that's enough for now. Each had a sad story, and a tragic end. And each left a legacy. A child who would bear a child who would bear a child, and so on. There would come a time, it was said, when a descendant from each of the sisters would be on the island at the same time. Each would have to find a way to redeem and break the pattern set three hundred years ago. If not, the island would topple into the sea. Lost as Atlantis."
"Islands don't topple into the sea."
"Islands aren't created by three women, usually," Mia countered. "If you believe the first, the second isn't much of a stretch."
"You believe it." Nell nodded. "And that you're one of the descendants."
"Yes. As you are."
"I'm no one."
"That's him talking, not you. I'm sorry." Instantly contrite, Mia reached out and gripped Nell's hand before she could rise. "I said I wouldn't pry, and I won't. But it annoys me to hear you say you're no one. To hear you mean it. Forget all the rest for now if you must, but don't forget who and what you are. You're an intelligent woman with spine enough to make a life for herself. With a gift—magic in the kitchen. I admire you."
"I'm sorry." Struggling to settle again, Nell reached for her wine. "I'm speechless."
"You had the courage to strike out on your own. To come to a strange place and make yourself part of it."
"Courage had nothing to do with it."
"You're wrong. He didn't break you."
"He did." Despite herself, Nell's eyes filled. "I just took the pieces and ran away."
"Took the pieces, escaped and rebuilt. Can't you be proud of that?"
"I can't explain what it was like."
"You don't have to. But you will, eventually, have to recognize your own power. You'll never feel complete until you do."
"I'm only looking for a normal life."
"You can't forget the possibilities." Mia held out a hand, palm up. Waited.
Unable to resist, Nell reached out, laid her palm against Mia's. And felt the heat, a painless burn of power. "It's in you. I'll help you find it. I'll teach you," Mia stated as Nell stared dumbfounded at the shimmer of light between their palms. "When you're ready."
~•~
Ripley scanned the beach scene and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Someone's toddler was having a tantrum, and the high-pitched cranky sound of No! No! No! blasted the air.
Somebody missed his nap, she thought.
People were scattered over the sand, staking out their territory with towels, blankets, umbrellas, totes, coolers, portable stereos. Nobody just went to the beach anymore, she mused. They packed for a day on the sand the way they packed to go to Europe.
It never failed to amuse her. Every day couples and groups would haul their possessions out of their rentals and hotel rooms and set up their temp
orary nests on the shore. And every day they would pack everything up again and haul it, along with a good bit of sand, back again.
Holiday nomads. The Bedouins of summer.
Leaving them to it, she headed up to the village. She carried nothing but her police issue, a Swiss Army knife, and a few dollars. Life was simpler that way.
She turned on High Street, intending to spend those few dollars on a quick meal. She was off duty, as much as either she or Zack was ever off duty, and was looking forward to a cold beer and a hot pizza.
When she spotted Nell standing in front of the hotel, looking dazed, she hesitated. It was as good a time as any, she supposed, to make that friendly overture.
"Hey, Nell."
"What? Oh. Hello, Ripley."
"You look a little lost."
"No." She knew just where she was, Nell thought. At the moment, it was the only thing she was absolutely sure of. "Just a little distracted."
"Long day, huh? Listen, I'm about to grab some dinner. A little early, but I'm starved. Why don't we split a pizza? My treat."
"Oh." She continued to blink, like someone coming out of a dream.
"The Surfside makes the best pizza on the island. Well, it's the only pizza place on the island, but still… How're things going at the café?"
"Good." There was really nothing to do but fall into step. She couldn't think clearly and would have sworn that her fingers still tingled. "I love working there."
"
"You've classed up the place," Ripley commented, and angled her head to get a look at the book Nell carried. "Reading up on island voodoo?"
"Voodoo? Oh." With a nervous laugh, Nell tucked the book under her arm. "I guess if I'm living here, I ought to know… things."
"Sure." Ripley pulled open the door of the pizzeria. "The tourists love all that island mystique crap. When we hit the solstice, we'll be flooded with New Agers. Hey, Bart!"
Ripley gave the man behind the counter a salute and grabbed an empty booth.
It may have been early, but the place was jammed.
The jukebox was blaring, and the two video games tucked back in a small alcove shot out noise and light.
"Bart and his wife, Terry, run the place." Ripley shifted, stretched her legs out on the bench. "They've got your calzones, your pasta, and yadda yadda," she said, tossing Nell a laminated menu. "But it's really all about the pizza. You up for that?"
"Sure."
"Great. Anything you don't like on it?"
Nell scanned the menu. Why couldn't she think? "No."
"Even better. We'll get a large, loaded. What we don't eat, I'll take home to Zack. He'll pick off the mushrooms and onions and be grateful."
She slid out of the booth again. "Want a beer?"
"No. No, thanks. Just water."
"Coming up."
Seeing no point in waiting for table service, Ripley walked up to the counter, placed the order. Nell watched the way she joked with the long, thin man behind the counter. The way she hooked her sunglasses in the collar of her shirt. The way she stretched gorgeously toned and tanned arms out for the drinks. The way her dark hair bobbed as she turned to walk back to the booth.
The noise receded, like echoes in a dream, until it was a wash of white sound under a rising roar. Like waves cresting. As Ripley sat across from her again, Nell saw her mouth moving, but heard nothing. Nothing at all.
Then, like a door flung open, it all swarmed back.
"…right up through Labor Day," Ripley finished, and reached for her beer.
"You're the third." Nell gripped her tingling hands together on the table.
"Huh?"
"The third. You're the third sister."
Ripley opened her mouth, then closed it again in a long, thin line. "Mia." She ground the two syllables together, then gulped down half her beer. "Don't start with me."
"I don't understand."
"There's nothing to understand. Just drop it." She slapped the glass back on the table, leaned forward. "Here's the deal. Mia can think, believe, whatever she wants. She can behave however she wants as long as she doesn't break the law. I don't have to buy into it. If you want to, that's your business. But I'm here for pizza and a beer."
"I don't know what I buy into. It makes you angry. It just confuses me."
"Look, you strike me as a sensible woman. Sensible women don't go around claiming to be witches descended from a trio of witches who carved an island out of a chunk of Massachusetts."
"Yes, but—"
"No buts. There's reality and there's fantasy. Let's stick with reality, because anything else is going to put me off my pizza. So, are you going to go out with my brother?"
"Go…" Confused, Nell pushed a hand through her hair. "Could you rewind that question?"
"Zack's working up to asking you out. You interested? Before you answer, let me say he's had all his shots, practices good personal hygiene, and though he has some annoying habits, he's reasonably well adjusted. So, think about that. I'll get the pizza."
Nell blew out a breath, sat back. She had, she decided, entirely too much to think about in one short evening.
Chapter Six
Ripley was right about the solstice. Café Book was so busy Mia had taken on two part-time clerks for the shop and added another behind the café counter.
The run on the vegetarian dishes over a two-day period kept Nell in a constant state of panic.
"We're running low on eggplant and alfalfa," she said as Peg came on shift. "I thought I'd calculated… Hell." She yanked off her apron. "I'm going to run down to the market, get what I can. I may have to substitute, change the menu for the rest of the day."
"Hey, whatever. Don't sweat it."
Easy for you to say, Nell thought as she rushed downstairs. She'd run out of hazelnut muffins by noon, and there was no way the chocolate chunk cookies were going to last the day at the rate they were disappearing. It was her responsibility to make certain everything in the café ran as Mia expected it to run. If she made a mistake—
In her rush to the back door, she all but ran over Lulu.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. Are you all right?"
"I'll live." Lulu brushed fussily at her shirt. The girl had put in a good three weeks' work, but that didn't mean Lulu was ready to trust her. "Slow down. Just because you're off shift doesn't mean you have to run out of the place like it's on fire."
"No, I'm sorry. Is Mia—would you tell Mia I'm sorry, and that I'll be right back?"
She bolted out the door and didn't stop running until she was in the produce section of Island Market. Panic and dread churned in her stomach. How could she have been so stupid? Buying supplies was an essential part of her job. Hadn't she been told to expect larger crowds over the solstice weekend? A moron could have done a better job planning for it.
The pressure in her chest was making her head light, but she forced herself to think, to study her choices, to select. She filled her basket quickly, waiting in agony in the checkout line as the minutes ticked away.
Dorcas chatted at her, and Nell managed to make some responses while all the while her brain was screaming: Hurry!
She gathered the three heavy bags and, cursing herself for not thinking to bring her car, began to carry them as quickly as she could manage back to the shop.
"Nell! Nell, wait a minute." Shaking his head when she didn't respond, Zack jogged across the street. "Let me give you a hand with those."
It amazed her she didn't jump straight out of her sneakers as he reached out, took two of the bags. "I can get them. I can do it. I'm in a hurry."
"You'll move faster if you're not weighed down. Supplies for the café"
"Yes. Yes." She was nearly running again. She could get another salad put together. Ten minutes, fifteen tops. And prep the ingredients for sandwiches. Then she could deal with the sweets. If she could get started right away, there might not be any gap.
"I guess you're pretty busy." He didn't like the look on he
r face. It was so grim, so set. Like someone about to go to war.
"I should've anticipated. There's no excuse for it."
She shoved through the back door of the shop, bolted up the stairs. By the time he got to the kitchen, she was already unbagging.
"Thank you. I can take care of it now. I know what to do."
She moved like a dervish, Zack thought, her eyes glassy and face pale.
"I thought you got off at two, Nell."
"Two?" She didn't bother to look up, but continued to chop, grate, mix. "No. I made a mistake. I have to fix it. Everything's going to be all right. It's going to be fine. No one's going to be upset or inconvenienced. I should have planned better. I will next time. I promise."
"Need two sandwich specials and a veggie pita—Jeez, Nell," Peg murmured as she stepped to the doorway.
Zack put a hand on her arm. "Get Mia," he said quietly.
"Two specials and a veggie. Okay. Okay." Nell set the bean-and-cucumber salad aside, hauled out the sandwich ingredients. "I bought some more eggplant, so we'll be fine. Just fine."
"No one's upset, Nell. You don't need to worry. Why don't you sit down a minute?"
"I only need a half hour. Twenty minutes. None of the guests will be disturbed." She picked up the orders, spun around, then jerked to a halt as Mia came in. "It's all right. Really, it's all right. We'll have plenty of everything."
"I'll take those." Peg eased by, slipped the orders out of Nell's hand. "They look great."
"I'm just putting together a new salad." There were bands around her chest, around her head. Tightening, tightening. "It won't take any time at all. Then I'll take care of the rest. I'll take care of it. Don't be angry."
"No one's angry, Nell. I think you should take a break now."
"I don't need one. I'll just finish." In desperation, she grabbed a bag of nuts. "I know I should've planned better, and I'm terribly sorry, but I'll make sure everything's perfect."
He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand to see her standing there, trembling now, her face white. "Hell with this," Zack spat, and stepped toward her.
Books by Nora Roberts Page 151