Curiously Enchanted (Witches of Hawthorne Grove Book 2)
Page 14
Shaking his head, he pinned her with a look. “You're still giving him control, aren't you? Even after he made you close yourself off from the world, shut up your creativity and your genius and even your desire to live life on your own terms.”
“Grandma Ellie always told me every person is born with the power to change the world inside them. All they need do is be brave enough to set it free—and you tried. But then you let him get to you. You locked yourself away inside your own little world where you somehow managed to convince yourself you weren't worthy of consideration—by anyone. That your thoughts and ideas weren't important. That your wants, needs, and desires didn't matter…”
Anger rose up inside of him at the thought of a scared young girl alone in the world desperately trying to make a name from herself with a total lack of support from anyone just to win the love and approval of a man who, in his opinion, didn't deserve anything from her. “You should be proud, Emma.”
Looking up at him with wounded eyes from beneath her lashes, she asked, “Proud? But I've just proved everything he ever told me was right! I let my emotions overrule my head, Sam, at the most important juncture of my life. I've made a fool of myself with you, over you, and now...”
“No,” he insisted quietly. “You are perfect to me, Emma. Can't you see that?”
Closing the three steps that separated them, he placed his palms on both sides of her face and lifted it until she could see the truth in his eyes. “Your spontaneity, your quick thinking, your passion and enthusiasm—those are all things I love about you.”
When she started to protest, he continued. “Look at what they have brought you, look at all they have helped you accomplish since the day you decided to go to Seville's for a little extra credit research into puzzles for your client.”
She scowled. “That cursed quilt?”
Sam laughed. “It was what caught my attention and drew it to you, so I wouldn't call it cursed at all. But that isn't what I meant, Emma. Since the day you walked into Seville's, your life immediately began to change—for the better. In a few short weeks, aside from proving yourself as a competent research specialist, you've become a business consultant, an architectural design assistant, and even a published author.”
Peering into her eyes, he said, “Now tell me you could have accomplished all that in such a short time frame if you had been careful with your ideas? If you'd bottled up your impulses like you say your father insisted you should. Emma, if you hadn't allowed your curiosity about the coffee service to lure you into doing some unpaid but meticulously thorough research, if you'd waited until you knew the facts about my business before you drew up what you imagined when you looked out the back windows of the One Shot ... ”
Drawing her close, he finished with, “What would have happened to us if you hadn't let your impulses convince you to buy that quilt and then dreamed of me so often that when we came together outside your subconscious you felt like you knew me already?”
Her brows drew together. “You knew about the dreams?”
“I did. But I had no clue how powerful a wallop the sisters packed into that quilt until you kissed me like you did the night at the One Shot and then asked me to love you like I had before,” he teased. “I think I even felt a little cheated because I had no memory of loving you the way you clearly remembered it.”
Emma's cheeks flushed bright and she buried her face against his chest. “Don't. Oh, God, don't remind me. I think I want to crawl way up into the back of Chloe's transporter now and hide.”
“Why?” There was laughter in his voice when he assured her, “Your kisses are spectacular, Emma. Trust me, darling, you've done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Are you saying you aren't appalled by my reckless, passionate abandon? You—you really don't want me to leave?”
Tenderly, Sam cupped her cheek in the palm of one hand. The other, he held up in front of her, the puzzle piece he'd filched from her the day they'd met at Seville's between his finger and thumb. “This is you, Emma. You're the piece that has been missing from the puzzle of my life. Without you, I will always be missing something—a piece of my heart, of myself. If you leave me, I will never be whole again.”
“Oh, Sam.” Her lips were quivering again, he noticed, and her eyes had once again sprung a leak. “That was beautiful.”
He brushed a curl from her forehead and leaned in for a kiss. “You are beautiful, Emma Riley. You are beautiful and perfect in all the ways that matter, and that is why to the depths of my soul, I absolutely love you.”
He felt it when her fingers threaded their way into his hair. Felt it when she finally let go of the pain of her past. When she pressed her lips to his and when she finally set herself free. “I love you, too, Sam Huntingdon the Third. I think I've loved you from the moment I first saw you when you walked into the showroom of Seville's.”
Sam couldn't have repressed the devilish twinkle in his eyes if he'd tried when he took her hands in his and said, “Show me.”
Chapter Twenty
Although it seemed the entire populous of Hawthorne Grove turned out for the grand re-opening of the One Shot Coffee Cafe, Emma was surprisingly calm. Lindsay would have said it was the costume that kept her settled. Dressed from feet to feathered headdress in an outfit straight out of a Victorian fashion catalog, she looked like a high-born lady of old. But Emma knew her serenity today had nothing to do with what she was wearing, but rather, the handsome gentleman at her side, also rocking full Victorian dress.
Everyone fully expected to see their host smiling and chatting with his loyal customers while he assisted the baristas, handing out steaming mugs filled with piping hot coffee but for once, Sam was not holding court behind the bar. Instead, he stood beside her at the door, greeting customers before handing them off to Lindsay for the first stage of the re-opening tour.
Sam had decided to turn the re-opening into an event to remember and it began with meeting Emma at the entrance. He'd had Lindsay set up a special table for her and she sat there now, stacks of her book waiting in front of her, which she was happy to sign for anyone who asked...and most did, too her surprise.
But Emma wasn't surprised in the least to discover Sam knew most of the people who came in by their first names. He'd say hello, thank them for coming in, then introduce them to Emma—his fiance—and then he would escort each group over to Lindsay for an introduction because the One Shot's stunning new interior was every inch her baby.
Lindsay Vale of Vale's Vintage Interiors was an amazing woman, it turned out, who had a flair for all things vintage. From the curtains now draping the tall windows to the soft lamps gracing the antiqued tables, to the authentic period seating, Lindsay was responsible for it all.
Mauve and lavender chairs, rose and cream settees, and even the delicate, vibrant spring green vine borders that were replicated from the wallpaper into the drapes turned the main room of Sam's coffee cafe into the epitome of a stately Victorian parlor. The place was the perfect reproduction of an actual parlor from centuries ago—an exquisite, untouched piece of history brought forward in time for the enjoyment of all.
The women, Emma noticed, absolutely loved the main room, but Sam had put in both a vintage card room and two very manly studies off the main room for the men who wanted their coffee but could do without the more feminine frippery. And there were the florists, of course, up on the second floor.
Lindsay had convinced Sam to bring Rowena's Nightshades – Hawthorne Grove's infamous “after hours florist” into the building early on, but she had also put him in touch with Melissa Sutton, another florist from out of town who could use the boost in foot traffic, who'd set up Morning Glory—a flower shop that was open during daylight hours on one half of the top floor—while Rowena's after-dark only floral specialty shop occupied the other.
From her chair near the door, Emma watched the milling crowd with pride, happy to see such a turn out for Sam's special day. His regular customers and even a few new ones had mo
ved off to sit at the various tables strategically placed around the main room. All of them sipped their favorite java brew from a mix of earthenware and delicate china cups. Women ooohed and aaaahed over the newly redecorated interior and men shared hearty back-slaps of relief over Sam's thoughtfulness in creating a few rooms just for the men.
Kaylee's older sister and Sam's best customer, Jo Dean Leavy, who was also regaled in full Victorian dress, sat at a special table on the other side of the chiffonier Jordan had restored for the occasion, reading aloud from her own signed copy of Emma's book: Did Queens Drink Coffee? And Other Interesting Facts About Your Favorite Bean.
Emma knew it was Jo's excellent reading voice that drew people to her table like a magnet. Eventually everyone who came in wandered over to hear and to see the antique coffee service that had once belonged to a queen, but Sam insisted it was Emma's fine writing that kept them enthralled. She had sold over an hundred copies of her book—and that was just since this morning!
As delighted as she was for Sam's success, by lunchtime, Emma was tired of sitting in one place. Her back ached from the corset she was wearing for the occasion and her cheeks hurt from all the non-stop smiling she was doing. It was time for a break.
Pushing her chair back from the table, she got to her feet and said, “I have to move around for a while, Sam. This blasted corset is killing me. Can we show them the rest now?”
“You just want to curl up away from the lunch crowd under our quilt in the Latte Lounge, don't you?” he teased, but like a true gentleman, he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, motioning across the room to Jordan to open the double doors leading out onto the back terrace.
Leading the way, Sam motioned to a few people, indicating they should follow him, calling over his shoulder as he went. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will follow me … the piece de resistance!”
Strolling arm in arm along a newly laid, winding cobblestone lane that meandered from the terrace to the coffee cottages, Sam and Emma led the way to what looked like a tiny Victorian village among the trees at the back of the cafe. He stopped in front of one of the buildings and held up a hand. “Welcome to Cozy Lane, where you can have your java beverage of choice and a bit more privacy for doing those things you love while you drink: surf the 'Net, read a book, the paper, or just enjoy the peace and quiet of fifteen minutes of downtime with a tasty aromatic blend in your cup the next time you stop by the One Shot for a cuppa Joe.”
At the edge of town, Serephina Seville watched the goings on in the mercury waters filling the sisters' scrying dish with relief. “Well, it looks like we did it, Morty. Sam proposed, Emma accepted and they both look so happy together.”
“Yep!” Mortianna agreed. Unfurling herself from the sofa, she said, “But I'm still a bit worried about Sam's easy acceptance of the idea of that quilt being magically influenced.”
“It will fade,” Serephina assured her. “People tend to forget about the inexplicable unless it keeps showing up in their lives and you know that isn't how we work.”
“Kaylee and Jordan didn't forget,” Mortianna reminded her sister. “What are we going to do if people start spreading it around that Seville's is the place to go if you want to find the love of your life?”
“No more than we do now, Morty. If we get customers, there will be an item with our number on it to sell to them and we will sell it. Simple as that.”
“Hm. Only it's not. You're forgetting about the bracelet. There were no numbers on that, or on the handful of charms we sold that engineer guy.” Her expression turned curious. “You knew there were no numbers, too, didn't you? Why did you sell them to him, anyway?”
Serephina waved away her concerns. “Will you stop trying to borrow trouble, Morty? We have enough as it is, or had you forgotten about Merry's extended absence?”
“Not for a minute. How long do you think it will take for the CHG to release her, now that our couple is happy?”
“I'm not sure they will, Mortianna.” Serephina frowned. “That quilt wasn't meant to go to Emma Riley and the puzzle …”
Mortianna shook her head in denial. “That quilt was exactly what Emma needed to bring her out of her self-constructed shell and you know it. And the puzzle is no different than those charms. Sam thought of Emma every time he touched or thought of that thing and there wasn't a bit of magic in it yet. Unless you know something I don't?”
Ignoring the niggling feeling that there was more than a little truth in what her sister had said, Serephina shook her head to deny it, and Morty shrugged and pasted a happy grin over an equally fake positive expression. “Maybe you just misunderstood the orders.”
Or maybe there was something else at work when that quilt got handed off to the wrong woman, Serephina thought, but she didn't mention it to Mortianna. “Put the dish away for me, will you, Morty? And meet me in the shop when you're done. There's something I want to show you.”
Mortianna's eyes widened. “Oooh! Feeny, did we get a new item to sell?”
“Something like that,” Serephina hedged, clasping her hands together in front of her to keep from wringing them. “It has our numbers on it anyway.”
“Our numbers, but no order?” Mortianna made a face. “We'd better leave it alone then, until we get some instruction from the higher ups. I don't think we can handle another screw up and subsequent disappearance like this one with Merry.”
Casting her sister a look, Serephina shrugged and turned to leave. “Suit yourself, Mortianna, but it was delivered here this morning with a note from your favorite Keeper.”
And it was the note more than the numbered item she had received that bothered Serephina, although she would not mention the cryptic message to her sister. Not here. Not yet. Instead, she made for the stairs, knowing Mortianna's curiosity would have her following soon enough.
While she waited? She would read the note again because she was sure there was something terribly important hidden in the message Airrick Skurlock had sent to them this morning … and it concerned Mortianna.
*********
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling author Leighann Dobbs has had a passion for reading since she was old enough to hold a book, but she didn’t put pen to paper until much later in life. After a twenty-year career as a software engineer with a few side trips into selling antiques and making jewelry, she realized you can’t make a living reading books, so she tried her hand at writing them and discovered she had a passion for that, too! She lives in New Hampshire with her husband, Bruce, their trusty Chihuahua mix, Mojo, and beautiful rescue cat, Kitty.