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Fangs and Frenemies

Page 22

by Cherry Andrews


  Elliot’s becoming a regular, however, had been a surprise. I could only assume he was tailing Gantry pretty closely if he’d deign to enter a bakery on the daily. Whatever his motives, I’d learned how he liked his coffee and looked forward to seeing his gorgeous face first thing in the morning.

  Though, he was no longer the only hot guy whose face I’d be seeing bright and early.

  “All right Kade.” I turned to my brand new barista, who’d been in the back restocking herbs on high shelves that neither Gran nor I could reach. “That’ll be a double latte, easy on the foam, and one dry cappuccino.”

  “Done and done.”

  “Hold on, who’s this handsome man?” Margaret purred.

  Kade’s tersely muttered hello told me I would have to be the one to introduce him. Man, he made one amazing cup of coffee, but I was discovering that he wasn’t much of a people person.

  Then again neither was I when I first started here, so many years ago. You start where you start.

  “Ladies, meet the fabulous Kade. He’s going to make you the best cup of coffee you ever had.” Seriously, he’d helped us step up our espresso game.

  “Where should I tuck his tip?” Margaret’s tone was a bit creepily suggestive for my tastes.

  “Uh, in this jar,” I said quickly, placing a clean mason jar on the counter before she could make the poor guy blush an even deeper shade of red.

  Max walked in, laptop case under her arm, at the same time as Sophie Jeffries.

  “Sophie!” I greeted the kid like an old friend. “Grab yourself a stool.”

  “I can only stay seventeen minutes before I have to run to make the first bell,” Sophie informed me earnestly. “I just wanted to say I heard the news. Now that they caught the killer, maybe I don’t need my nightlight anymore.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Let me get you an orange raisin scone on the house and we can chat a little before you have to run.”

  Max’s eyes widened. “Cool, you’re giving away free stuff? Then I’ll take four chocolate croissants—“

  “Oh no, you’re not getting so much as a free napkin.” I attempted to give her a stern look, but it only turned into a crooked smile. I was so happy to have her back. “You’re not even a real customer, Max,” I teased. “More like a tenant. You gotta pay me to rent that corner booth all day as your blog office.”

  “You know, you’re starting to sound just like your grandmother,” Max said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Where is Miss Sage anyway?”

  “Oh, she’s been setting her own hours lately. Waltzes in at noon most days.” It was on the tip of my tongue to add that Max would know that if she wasn’t so deep in her worky work trance at noon. But just at that moment, a limo pulled up in front of the store. “One second . . . ”

  Leeza, Estelle’s assistant, was walking toward us, looking serious. Feeling nervous, I dashed out from behind the counter to open the door for her.

  “Hazel.” Leeza gave me a cool nod. “This is the last time I’ll be talking to you, since I no longer work for Estelle.”

  Well, that made sense. “Because Estelle won’t need a personal assistant in prison?”

  “Because I don’t want to work for a murderer.”

  “Oh!” That was refreshing. “Sorry, I should have given you more credit.”

  “It’s ok. She’s also a liar, cheater, and possibly, I really hate to say this but, possibly a dog killer. Sammy Boy’s disappeared. I don’t know what to think anymore about that household, I just know I’m peacing out.”

  “What about Landon? And Marina?” And Daffodil and Stephen and all the other people who worked for the Kensingstons. Would they all be heading out en masse?

  “Oh no, they’re all staying on, to work for Drew. Everybody loves him, he’s a great boss. He’s also hiring a full-time nursing staff for his dad—says it’s time we all stop pretending Fred is ok and get him the care he needs.”

  “That’s actually sensible. Responsible.”

  “Yes, well, I can’t help but think he’s doing it because having Fred declared incompetent means the family fortune defaults to him. He wants the money so he can open an upscale nightclub downtown and build a moat around the house. Because he likes moats.”

  “I think you’re smart to move on.” The others, I reasoned, had always just been in it for the paycheck; they liked their jobs but maintained a healthy cynicism about the family. Leeza had been a true believer.

  “Thanks.” Leeza paused. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think you’re undisciplined as a baker and a businesswoman. And your funky little shop is overrated. Also I think sugar is the devil.”

  “Wow, don’t hold back,” I muttered, a bit shocked she’d come out with all that.

  “But you’re a truly honest person, Hazel. You’re exactly who you appear to be. I admire you for it. And that’s why I came to say goodbye.”

  “Thanks.” Though, was I who I appeared to be, really? I sure didn’t advertise the fact that I was a Green witch. Or a magical detective, for that matter. Maybe no one was exactly who they appeared to be.

  At least not in Blue Moon Bay.

  “Well, my bags are packed,” she said. I’ll be taking on a new job in LA, supporting a much more wholesome family. The Kardashians.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  We shook hands.

  As she turned to go, I saw that Max had settled into work, earbuds in, fingers clacking at the keyboard like a madwoman. Tapping her foot to the music only she could hear.

  Margaret had wisely given up trying to flirt with Kade, for the moment.

  Helen, though, was making googly eyes at Gantry. “Great detective work, sir,” she purred. “You should get some kind of award. Or would it be some kind of reward? What’s the difference?”

  Well, they say everyone is someone else’s idea of a catch.

  Elliot’s dark, deep-set eyes caught mine, and amusement creased his normally stoical face, sending an unexpected thrill through me.

  The crow and I had a secret together. I liked how that felt.

  I settled in to chat with Sophie. “So, any progress on trying to get your mom to let you have a cat?”

  “Not really.” Her glum face perked up. “Hey, I was wondering if maybe you’d talk to her? You just have this way with people . . . ”

  My laughter cut her off. “Sorry, it’s just no one’s ever said that to me before in my life.”

  “Oh.” Sophie’s brow furrowed. “Then maybe you shouldn’t talk to her.”

  “No. But I know who should.” Compulsion for a good cause? “In fact, go ahead and start thinking of cat names. This plan’s foolproof, kid, trust me.”

  So, this was my clientele at 7 AM: My oldest friend. A ten year old hungry for conversation. A pair of cops—one good, one bad. And two feisty old ladies who’d long ago lost the ability to sleep in.

  No, the bakery wasn’t hopping in the same way that Java Kitty had hopped. Maybe it never would be. But I was no longer afraid we were heading for the dust bin of history.

  Or the dumpster.

  Sophie had skipped off to class and I was setting out sample slices of thick-cut walnut bread, spread with fig and Kalamata olive dip, for everyone to try, when Britt walked in wearing dark sunglasses. Her blond hair was wrapped in a head scarf.

  “What are you doing out in the sunlight?” I stage-whispered once it was just her and me at the counter. “Wait, is this because now that Java Kitty’s gone bye-bye you’re forced to wait till morning to satisfy your junk food cravings?”

  “No.” She slapped a page of printer paper down on the counter in front of me. “My only craving is to know who wrote this.”

  Someone had typed a note on the paper, with an actual typewriter.

  UNNATURAL CREATURE OF THE NIGHT:

  WE FORMALLY BESEECH YOU TO DO THE RIGHT THING AND STAKE YOURSELF AT 12 O’CLOCK MIDNIGHT TONIGHT.

  WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE. OBVIOUSLY.

  WE HAVE PERSONNEL GUARDING Y
OUR PORTLAND RESIDENCE AS WELL, SO DON’T TRY TO RUN.

  JUST GO DIE, PEACEFULLY, OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO TAKE MATTERS INTO OUR OWN CAPABLE HANDS.

  SINCERELY,

  THE BLUE MOON BAY VAMPIRE HUNTER’S SOCETY

  EST 2019

  “This reads like a nasty bank letter,” I muttered. “Maybe even a little bit nastier.”

  “I know right? Maybe it’s a practical joke.” Britt glared daggers at Max, who was now doing a little butt-wiggle and head-shake dance in her chair as she typed. “I bet she’d like to see me sweat.”

  “Sure, but it’s not her style.” I nodded politely to Gantry and Elliot as they got up to leave. “Dropping off a letter is too long an effort. She’s an off the cuff jokester. Plus, she doesn’t own a typewriter.”

  “Who does, these days?”

  “Hipsters? The very old? Aspiring authors?”

  “So you’re saying it’s not someone I need to take seriously,” Britt said hopefully.

  “No, I’m saying we need more information. For example, did Drew Kensington receive a note like this? Or your sire, assuming they’re local?”

  Britt rolled her eyes and I remembered she didn’t think much of her sire. “I don’t know about Drew, but my sire’s unlikely to be receiving much mail. He was local but when I tried to contact him I found out he’s dead. Died about a month ago. Not that he was providing the slightest bit of support or guidance—”

  “Uh . . . Britt? That’s not good that he just died a month ago. Means these guys might have gotten to him.”

  “Oh crud. I see your point.” Britt lifted up her arms and made a face. “Now I’m officially sweating.”

  “Take a seat, I’ll be right back,” I said, trying to hide my excitement at having a new mystery to solve. Ever since Estelle and David had been arrested, life had been calmer . . . but also not as interesting. Who would have thought I’d get so hooked on sleuthing? “I’m going to make us a nice pot of Irish breakfast tea and put together a plate of pastries to help us think.”

  “And I’m going to go separate that dweeb of a cat shifter from her computer,” Britt declared. “If someone’s targeting vampires in Blue Moon Bay, it’s going to take all three of us to stop me from becoming their next victim.”

  It’s not that I wasn’t worried about Britt. As tough as she was, she wasn’t invulnerable. But a little thrill shivered up my back, one that had nothing to do with anxiety.

  “Booya, we’re getting the gang back together!” At Britt’s shocked glare, I hastily fixed it. “I mean, boo . . . yeah . . . someone’s hunting you. And as your friend, I want to validate your feelings of fear, and support you in this time of—”

  “Just go get the goodies already, before I bite you!” she said with a laugh. “I’ll fetch the bobcat, assuming she can currently be reached from Planet Earth.”

  “Mini chocolate chocolate-chip tea-cakes, coming right up,” I sang, and ran into the kitchen.

  Witches with Anxiety Book 2:

  Broomsticks and Besties:

  will be out in Spring of 2020

  Hi Reader!

  Writing this book was a pure, unmitigated blast.

  I hope you enjoyed getting to know Hazel, Max, Britt, and the rest of the Blue Moon Bay magical crew as much as I did.

  Want to read free teaser chapters of book 2 as I write them? Stop by my website.

  You can also join my publisher’s mailing list to learn when my books come out.

  Oh, one more thing. Please leave a review on Amazon if you feel inclined! I greatly appreciate it, and would send you a freshly baked scone over the internet if I could.

  XO,

  Cherry

 

 

 


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