Scent of Magic
Page 12
“Starley, we can show you some basic magical scents, if you’d like,” Francesca offered. “Suffice it to say, cooking doesn’t seem to be your forte.”
Starley folded her arms in front of her chest and gave Francesca the stink eye. “There wasn’t anything wrong with my cookies. They were delicious, actually. It’s not my fault that Beau is allergic to peanuts. Who’d have thought a quarter cup of creamy peanut butter would cause such a problem.”
Juliette snorted. “Starley, honey, any amount of peanuts could be deadly to a person who is allergic to them.”
“Sorry,” Starley muttered under her breath. “Next time I’ll make sure my baked goods come with a warning label.”
“I thought we decided, no more cooking?” Francesca said.
Starley clamped her mouth shut and stared out the window. They were silent for the rest of the ride. When they parked in front of the hospital, everyone got out of the car, except for Starley.
Juliette knocked on the window and waved her hand. “Come on.”
Inside the hospital, Francesca took Juliette by the arm and led her toward the waiting room.
Starley’s forehead scrunched with confusion. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No, we’ll wait here. You don’t need us to tag along,” Francesca said.
“I don’t even know what his room number is,” Starley said.
Francesca pointed at the information desk. “Ask.”
“Fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Throw me into the lion’s den all by myself. That’s okay,” Starley said.
A few minutes later, Starley was on her way up to the third floor. She decided to take the stairs to kill as much time as she could. She stood in the hallway outside Beau’s room, wondering what a panic attack felt like; because she was pretty sure she was having one. Either that or it was a heart attack.
Starley pulled her shoulders back and took a deep breath just before she pushed through the hospital door. Beau looked up to see her come in. She wasn’t sure if it was panic or relief she saw cross over his face.
“Oh, hey, Starley,” he said. His voice was hoarse, and he spoke barely above a whisper.
Starley’s eyes filled, and she crossed the overly polished floor to his bed. “I’m so, sorry I almost killed you,” she said. The words just flew right out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take them back if she tried.
Beau’s eyebrows squished together. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The cookies. They had peanut butter in them. I swear, I didn’t know,” Starley said, she hugged herself and dropped her chin to her chest.
“Of course you didn’t know. How could you have known?” Beau said. He pushed the button to raise his bed. “They were pretty amazing cookies, too. I couldn’t even taste the peanut butter.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice,” Starley said. She decided to sit rather than pace.
Beau laughed, a quiet, hoarse laugh. “That’s me, Mr. Nice Guy.”
“Your father hates me,” Starley said.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s an asshole,” Beau said.
Starley’s eyes widened, and she fought the urge to laugh. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“Starley, I’m sure he doesn’t blame you. Why should he? This wasn’t your fault,” Beau said. He reached for her hand and squeezed.
Starley’s stomach churned. There were so many things she wanted to say. But, there wasn’t anything she could say that wouldn’t totally incriminate her. Swallowing guilt wasn’t easy, and she felt really bad for doubting him. She had no one to blame but herself. She couldn’t even pin the situation on Rue, even though Rue had planted the idea in her head.
What had she been thinking? Beau had lived in Prosperity his whole life. He knew everyone. Why should it bother her who he talks to? He’d invited her to homecoming, not Beatrice. Just because he’d been talking to Beatrice — a lot — didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor,” a girl’s voice came from the doorway.
Starley wondered if thinking about Beatrice had caused her to magically appear. She’d heard about the power of manifestation. Starley stood and wiped her clammy hands down the front of her jeans. She smiled at Beatrice. At least she hoped it came across as a smile because it felt like a grimace.
“Hello, Beatrice,” Starley said. “Come in, I probably should get going. My sisters are waiting for me.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Beatrice said. She patted her chest. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Starley said. She smiled at Beau. “Glad you’re feeling better, Beau.”
“Yeah, see you later, Starley,” Beau said.
Starley felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of her universe, and she practically ran from the room.
MY WHAT BIG EYES YOU HAVE
Monday morning, everyone at school was talking about the homecoming dance. A lot of the student body’s eyes landed on Starley. She wished that if there ever had been a cloak of invisibility that it would magically appear on her shoulders. Instead, she felt a bit like Little Red Riding Hood and that danger lurked around every corner.
“You’re quite the local celebrity today,” Rue said, popping a donut in her mouth and holding it with her teeth while she tied her shoe.
“For all the wrong reasons,” Starley muttered.
Rue straightened. “When are there ever right reasons for being the talk of the town?”
“Oh, I don’t know, like maybe I thwarted a burglary, or gave a choking person the Heimlich maneuver,” Starley rambled.
Rue snorted and put her hand on Starley’s shoulder. “Oh, my God, stop it.”
“Yeah, well none of those miracle-making items are likely to happen,” said Starley. She grabbed some books from her locker and slammed the door.
“One can always hope,” Rue said with a shrug. “Have you seen Beau yet?”
“My sisters made me go yesterday,” Starley said.
“How’s he feeling?” Rue asked.
“Okay, I guess. Not bad for someone who died on Friday night,” Starley said shaking her head. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“Meh, you worry too much. By prom, no one will remember this even happened,” Rue said.
“I’m going to be under house arrest until I’m thirty. Prom is out of the question,” Starley said.
Rue hooked elbows with Starley and giggled. “We can always go together. Or bake up some more magical cookies. Some real ones this time.”
“We can’t go together; that would just be weird.” Starley pulled her arm free. “No more magical baking. Ever.”
“You care too much about what people think. Which is totally not like you,” Rue said.
Starley stopped walking. “You don’t understand. If people are talking about me, they will assume that whatever happened to Beau was the direct result of something my sisters did. Or because we’re witches.”
“Why does this bother you so much?” Rue asked.
“You just don’t get it. This is the story of my entire life,” Starley pressed her fingers against her temples. “We move into town, we start to fit in, I start to like it. I make friends. Then something happens, and we have to move. I thought this time was different.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Rue suggested.
Starley shot Rue a dirty look and said, “I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself when you stop being so annoyingly optimistic.”
***
At the end of the school day, Starley and Rue walked out together.
“Is that Pastor Byrd,” Rue whispered.
Starley frowned. “Why’s he here?”
“Let’s duck and run,” Rue suggested, grabbing Starley’s hand.
Starley pulled free. “Freak. Stop.”
“Don’t make eye contact,” Rue muttered. “Stare at your feet. Walk very fast, maybe he won’t notice us.”
“Excuse me, Miss Duchesne,
” Pastor Byrd called out.
“Did he just say my name?” Starley asked.
“I think so,” Rue said as she started running in the opposite direction. “Call me later.”
Starley’s mouth dropped open. “Hey, thanks!” She turned her attention to Pastor Byrd.
Starley walked over to greet him; each step felt like she wore cement-filled shoes. “Hello, Pastor Byrd. How’s Beau feeling?”
“Starley,” he said. “Beau is fine, no thanks to you. He could have died, you know.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea Beau was allergic to peanuts,” Starley said. She stepped back. His wolfish leer became more ferocious by the second, and she feared he might bite her head off and swallow it whole.
His eyes slitted. “Young lady, the lab tests will determine whether or not the peanuts were the cause of my son’s unfortunate situation.”
“Lab tests?” Starley said, her voice squeaked. “What lab tests? I have the recipe. I can show you the recipe if you’d like.”
“Right,” Pastor Byrd said, clearing his throat. “The reason I’m here, is to tell you I think you should find someone else to attend school functions with.”
Starley stared down at her shoes. “I’m sorry?”
“Stop groveling,” Pastor Byrd said.
Starley was certain he’d growled at her, and his canines seemed to lengthen with every word out of his mouth. “I’m not groveling. I just didn’t think I heard you right.”
“Stay away from Beau,” Pastor Byrd said. If possible, his eyes narrowed even more. “Don’t look at my son, don’t talk to him, and for the love of all that’s holy ⦠do not feed him anything ever again. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Pastor Byrd,” Starley said. “Crystal.”
She turned around and walked slowly toward home. Starley wasn’t a weak person but at that moment, she felt very much like throwing herself to the ground and sobbing her eyes out. Instead, she muttered various unfavorable, unflattering things she wished would happen to him and calmly walked away.
“What was that all about?” Rue said, stepping out from behind the big oak tree beside the sidewalk around the corner.
Starley jumped. “Rue! You scared the crap out of me.”
“I thought you saw me,” Rue said.
“Yes, because I always expect you to be lurking about in the bushes when I walk home from school,” Starley said, going out of her way to kick neatly raked leaf piles.
“You’re doing it,” Rue huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“Doing what?” Starley asked.
“Never mind. What did the big bad wolf of Prosperity want?” Rue had to jog to keep up with Starley.
Starley shrugged and said, “Nothing much. He just warned me to stay away from Beau.”
“What?” Rue said, her voice annoyingly shrill.
“Yeah, he basically called me a spawn of Satan and warned me to stay away from his son, or else,” Starley said.
“Or else what? He’ll huff, and he’ll puff?” Rue said rolling her eyes.
“Something like that,” Starley murmured.
INTO LIFE, A LITTLE RAIN MUST FALL
Francesca sat on the stool behind the counter going over the figures. Business was slow, and it had been the slowest week since they’d opened The Perfumery. Maybe she was paranoid, but people seemed to be avoiding the shop lately.
“Why the worried look, Frank?” Juliette asked when she came inside.
“Business is off,” Francesca said. She tapped the ink pen against her lips. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Juliette sighed. “It’s always slow this time of year.”
Francesca nodded and got up to straighten the shelves. “We need to do some damage control.”
“I’m already working on it,” Juliette said, walking into the back room.
Juliette wasn’t sure what she could do, but she had to figure out something. In spite of the narrow-minded people living there, she’d grown fond of Prosperity. Starley had started to fit in at school. She had friends. She’d had a boyfriend ⦠for a few days, anyhow.
Juliette sat down and flipped open the cover of the spell book.
“No black magic,” Francesca warned.
“No black magic,” Juliette agreed.
She didn’t have any aces up her sleeve, black or otherwise, at the moment. But she was sure she would come up with something. She had to because she didn’t want to move. Moving in the wintertime sucked.
Juliette flipped page after page until she found what she was looking for. It wasn’t completely white magic, but it wasn’t that bad, either. She copied the instructions on a piece of paper and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. She scanned the shelves to see if she needed to order anything.
“Crap on a cracker,” Juliette mumbled. “Where’s that bottle of amber? I thought we had a brand new bottle of amber.”
Francesca sighed and closed the ledger she’d been poring over. “I used the last of it the other day.”
Juliette gathered all of the other items on the list and picked up the phone. “I’ll just order some more.”
“What kind of a scheme have you plotted?” Francesca asked.
Juliette held up her finger and placed the order for amber. As soon as she hung up the phone, she said, “It’s not a scheme. In fact, it’s so brilliant, I’m not sure why I hadn’t thought of it sooner.”
“We didn’t need it sooner,” Francesca reminded her.
The bell above the door rang, and Francesca nearly knocked her stool over when she stood. “Hello, welcome to The Perfumery,” she greeted the tall stranger.
Juliette’s eyes widened. She’d never seen the man before. He stepped forward.
“Excuse the mess,” he pointed to the water puddle forming beneath his feet. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there.”
Francesca peeked around him and frowned. “How odd, up until a few minutes ago, the sun was shining.”
“I’m Martin Bouvier,” he said extending his hand.
Francesca looked like she might never blink again, so Juliette nudged her.
“Oh, sorry, I’m Francesca Duchesne,” she said, taking his hand. She pointed to Juliette. “This is my sister, Juliette.”
Francesca breathed in his scent. He smelled nice. Not a serial murderer. No deep, dark psychological issues. His biggest want at the moment was a hot cup of coffee and a warm towel.
Martin smiled, and Francesca couldn’t help but notice how perfectly white his teeth were.
“How can we help you today, Mr. Bouvier?” Juliette asked, shaking his hand.
“Hmm, well, I’m a little embarrassed. I was actually just passing by when it started to pour,” Martin said ducking his head. “I’m afraid I have to apologize. I just stepped into the first open door I saw to get out of the rain.”
The smile on Francesca’s face fell a little bit, but she quickly recovered. “They say there are no such things as an accident.”
Martin chuckled. “They do say that, don’t they?”
Juliette’s eyes drifted from Francesca to Martin and back again. Was he flirting with her? Better yet, was she flirting with him?
“Well, since you’re here, would you maybe like to check out some of our new perfumes? For your wife?” Juliette asked, fishing for information.
Martin said, “I’m not married.”
“Not married? Did you hear that, Francesca? He’s not married,” Juliette said.
Francesca’s cheeks turned red, and she shot Juliette a withering look. “I’m not deaf.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Juliette said, grabbing her coat from the hook in the back room. “I’ve got errands to run.”
Before Francesca could protest, Juliette slid out the front door and into the monsoon-like weather.
“Are you just passing through Prosperity?” Francesca asked.
“I’ve got relatives living here,” Martin said. He combed his fingers through the coal black hair curling over his
collar.
“That’s great,” Francesca said.
“Yeah, great,” Martin said with zero enthusiasm. He turned toward the front window. “Hey, would you look at that. It’s stopped raining.”
Francesca looked over his shoulder, and the sun couldn’t be shining anymore brightly. “Well then, it’s settled,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Martin said.
“It must be a sign,” Francesca said quietly.
Martin flashed another one of his mega-handsome smiles. “It must be.”
IN WITH THE NEW
As with most high school things, homecoming became a distant memory, and the students started to focus on the Halloween festivities. Beau returned to school, alive and well. If he was bothered by his dad forbidding him to talk to Starley, it didn’t show. Other than an occasional hallway nod in passing, they didn’t speak.
“I bet you wish you could turn back time right about now,” Rue said.
“It is what it is,” Starley said with a shrug as she tried not to notice just how close Beatrice stood to Beau.
Rue leaned close and whispered, “If I hear her giggle one more time I’m going to throw up.”
Normally, Starley would have laughed, but she felt a little queasy herself. “There’s not much I can do about it. I nearly killed him at the homecoming dance. His dad thinks I’m a witch. If he had his way, my whole family would be burned at the stake.”
“You can do better than Beau Byrd anyway,” Rue said a little louder than necessary.
Starley ducked her head and held her books in front of her face and started down the hallway toward class with Rue close behind.
“No more Beau talk. I’m sorry,” said Rue. “We’ll just have to scope out a couple of new boyfriends.”
“Right, because it’s just that easy,” Starley said sarcastically. “What about Andrew?”
“What about him?” Rue said.
“Kicking him to the curb already?” Starley asked.
“You have no idea. Another thing I’m blaming those magic cookies for,” Rue said.
Starley groaned. “You heard Juliette; there wasn’t anything magical about those cookies.”