I explained to her how I'd met one of our neighbors outside, and he'd told me not only that the neighborhood kids called our home the Red Witch House but that Winona Vander Zalm had apparently electrocuted herself with the toaster while making Pop-Tarts in the tub.
“But that's impossible,” she said. “We saw it on that TV show, MythBusters. An appliance dropped in the tub would have blown a circuit before it killed her.”
“That's what I said.” I smiled proudly at my smart daughter. “But the woman was quite old. Even a small shock might have stopped her heart.”
We both looked at the toaster.
“It must have sprouted legs and jumped in with her,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “That's the strangest thing I've heard all day.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Stranger than finding out we Riddles are witches? Stranger than Corvin singing ding-dong the witch is dead? Stranger than this?” With some effort, I managed to levitate the heavy toaster an inch off the table.
“Hmm. You shouldn't taunt that thing,” she said.
By Monday morning, my levitation skills were strong enough for me to lift and shelve a heavy book. Theoretically, anyway.
The library wasn't a safe place to practice magic since it was a popular public space, never empty during open hours. And if I wasn't within visual range of a browsing patron, I was being watched by Kathy Carmichael, her golden-brown eyes ever alert behind her round glasses. She watched me the way an owl watches a mouse who threw out the owl's weird acorn jelly on her first day at work, completely by accident and with no malice whatsoever!
I got through the morning without using magic or getting into other trouble.
At lunchtime, I went for a walk outside with another coworker who was running some errands.
His name was Frank Wonder, and he was an older man with a dramatic flair for dressing, from his bright-colored trousers to his dyed-pink hair.
He also did a hilarious impression of Kathy.
“Whooooo stamped all these books?” Frank demanded in Kathy's voice. “They're crooked!” Frank used his thumbs and forefingers to form the circles of Kathy's glasses frames. “Whooooo doesn't know how to hold a rectangular stamp parallel to a rectangular book?”
We were walking down the sidewalk together, three blocks from the library.
I cuffed Frank on the arm, laughing. “Stop! You're hurting my sides. And Kathy really is nice, despite her obsession with stamps being perfectly parallel.”
We reached the corner. Frank used his elbow to press the button for the crosswalk light, and turned to face me, his expression thoughtful.
“Kathy is the best, actually,” he said. “She's just been down in the dumperoo lately. Bit of an empty nest situation for the ol' bird, with her youngest son off doing whatever it is he does.” He made a vague flipping gesture with one hand. “Baseball or soccer or something. Or is it football? What season does football run?”
“Beats me. Do all of Kathy's sons play professional sports?”
“Yes, unfortunately for her,” he said.
The light changed, so we began crossing the street. Frank gallantly held out his elbow for me to hold onto. I took his elbow and looked around as we entered the main downtown shopping area.
My coworker was fifty-five years old, as fit as an acrobat, had hair the color of a pink flamingo, and wore a wardrobe straight out of the circus. And yet nobody inside the library or outside on the streets batted an eyelash at him. Wisteria was pretty chill for such a small town. I wondered how the local residents felt about witches.
“Kathy has three sons,” Frank said. “The oldest are twins, and they've always been very active boys. The poor woman has washed more sweaty, grass-stained laundry than you or I can imagine. But now they've all flown the nest, and the boys' father is always out of town managing them, so Kathy's got their house all to herself, and she's going a bit nutty.”
“I don't know what I'll do when my daughter leaves home. Maybe wait a year and then move in with her.” I snorted. “She'd love that.”
We reached the other side of the street, where he stepped over the curb while giving me a dramatic look. “Kathy has taken to crafting,” he said. “With a vengeance. Don't be surprised if you get invited to a magical evening of bedazzling.”
“Sounds almost as much fun as a bedazzling evening of magic.” I grinned at the joke that only I understood.
“Laugh it up now,” Frank said. “It won't be so funny when all your sofa pillows are covered in scratchy rhinestones and you have to buy new ones.”
“Now I'm afraid,” I said with mock terror. “Very afraid.”
“At least she won't get rid of you,” he said. “Your job is totally secure, thanks to that glowing letter of recommendation from Zinnia Riddle. How are you two related? Are you sisters? I don't know her well, but even a guy like me takes notice of such a gorgeous redhead.” He looked me up and down. “And you look so much like her.”
What did he say? My aunt gave me a job recommendation? I skipped to keep up with Frank's quick pace on the sidewalk. The man walked like he had long flamingo legs to match his hot-pink hair.
“Zinnia Riddle is my aunt,” I said casually. “And she forgot to mention that she wrote a letter of recommendation on my behalf.”
My fists were clenching. She lied to me, I thought. That dirty witch. She'd pretended to be as shocked as I was that we were both in Wisteria, but apparently there'd been a letter. Her lie had been recorded on paper evidence.
Was the letter the reason she'd been avoiding me since Saturday morning? Zoey had called her several times over the weekend, but she hadn't returned the calls, except for the briefest of text messages letting us know she'd get back to us after checking on some things.
When I finally did see my long-lost aunt again, she was going to get a piece of my mind.
Frank didn't seem to notice me clenching and unclenching my fists. Nor did he notice the swirls of dust and debris sweeping themselves from the sidewalk shortly in front of us. I wasn't trying to levitate anything, but my emotions were having an effect on my environment. Clear a path, my magic seemed to say.
“It must have been a very good letter,” Frank said. “There were other applicants more qualified, and I do mean way more qualified, but Kathy was moved by your aunt's words. Almost like she was under a spell.” He chuckled. “Ain't life grand?”
“Grand, indeed. I'll have to thank my dear, sweet aunt,” I said. “Thank her properly.”
Frank gasped and stopped in his tracks. “I know! Chocolate. Nothing says thank you like chocolate.” He nodded at a narrow storefront we'd just walked past. “And these chocolates say thank you, and please, and let's have another, and oh you shouldn't have. We simply must pop in.” He winked and doubled back, skipping toward the door.
I called after him, “I thought you had to visit the post office and the bank.”
Frank waved one hand. “There's no Monday chore in this world that can't wait until Tuesday.”
I followed him into the chocolate shop.
As I looked over the assortment in the display case, I couldn't stop fuming over my aunt. If there was a Witch Code that banned us from messing with each other, why had Zinnia manipulated my destiny and then lied to me?
Yes, I would take Frank's suggestion to thank my aunt for her letter by getting her some chocolates. Sharp-cornered, heavy chocolates. And then I would go to her house and throw them at her while I demanded some answers.
Chapter 21
I looked at the array of hand-dipped chocolates, deliberating over which ones would make the best projectiles for lobbing at my lying aunt.
But eventually my mouth began to water. I tasted some free samples, and soon I didn't feel quite as irate.
The chocolate shop had a soothing atmosphere, with heavenly harp music playing on the stereo to match the heavenly sweet aroma.
My coworker Frank hummed along with the music while he looked over the featured specials and n
ew creations.
Other than us, there were two other people inside the store, an employee and another customer. The employee was a woman with short golden-blonde hair and an hourglass figure. She was helping an attractive dark-haired man.
He had his back to me, but my ears pricked up when I heard him say, “It's a welcome gift for a new neighbor. And also an apology.”
The woman's eyebrows rose. “Chet Moore, you haven't bought chocolates for a woman in ages. You must really like her.” She reached for a gold box shaped like a heart. “Shall I fill this up?”
He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not the heart. Give me that square box. The plain, gray one.”
The blonde looked around, seemingly confused. “Do you mean this box?” She held up a gray rectangle. “This holds our supply of staples.”
“Yes. That's the box I want.”
She made a tsk-tsk sound. “You can't give a girl chocolates in a container for office supplies.”
“Fine,” he said with a huff. “Give me that other box. But not the heart one.”
As I listened, I could scarcely breathe. Chet was buying me chocolates. The news should have filled me with delight. It would have had he not sounded utterly miserable. He didn't like me the way I liked him. He was only buying me a gift to smooth things over after Corvin's outburst at brunch.
I quietly backed toward the door and subtly signaled to Frank that I was going to wait outside.
Frank said, at full volume, “Zara, don't you want to get some chocolates for your aunt?”
I froze. Chet's head jerked up, and then he turned around in what felt like slow motion.
“Howdy there, neighbor,” I said cheerily. “Fancy meeting you here.” I looked at the blonde, who was grinning with relish.
“Helloooooo, yourself,” the blonde purred. “You're Chet's new neighbor?”
Chet didn't say a word as he glanced from me to Frank and back again.
“Guilty as charged,” I said to the blonde. “I've been causing all sorts of trouble on Beacon Street.”
Frank interjected, “Beacon Street? Zara, did you buy that lovely Victorian Gothic on the corner? The Red Witch House?”
“Hah!” I chuckled and mimed wiping sweat from my forehead. “Again, guilty as charged,” I said. “I guess everyone knows everyone else's business in a small town like this.”
The blonde kept staring and grinning. This is what passes for entertainment around here, I thought.
I took a few steps over to where Chet stood and looked at the box in the blonde's hand. “That box is perfect,” I said.
When I turned to look at Chet, he wasn't frowning, exactly, but he did look like he wished he could be absolutely anywhere else at that moment.
I gave him a neighborly smile. “Chet, go ahead and get the chocolates anyway. Don't let me ruin everything. You can bring them over tonight, and I'll pretend to be surprised, I swear.”
I turned and leaned over the display of fancy chocolates. “I do love a good marzipan,” I said. “And mint. Plus anything with nuts is always good. And I don't mind the fondants. Now, some people, my daughter for example, take a bite of fondant and put it back in the box because it's too sweet, but I say there's no such thing as too sweet.” I straightened up and turned to face Chet once more.
He still looked like he was plotting an escape route. “No such thing as too sweet,” he repeated.
I backed away slowly. I got the sense Chet might startle at sudden movements.
I pointed a thumb at the door. “I'm going to skedaddle now.” I looked over at my coworker, who was watching with just as much fascination as the blonde worker. “Frank, I'll see you back at the library. I just remembered I left my coffee in the microwave. It's probably the perfect drinking temperature right now.”
I pushed open the door and left for the library, walking quickly.
I got back to work, drank my tepid coffee, and then threw myself into my job. I tried hard not to think about my handsome neighbor, chocolates, heart-shaped boxes, or any combination thereof.
At the end of my shift, I punched out my time card with a thunderous KERCLUNK.
I was heading toward the door when Frank caught my eye and beckoned me over to his crafting table. He was cutting shapes from construction paper for a display.
“Those mountains are very pointy,” I said, admiring his work.
“They're supposed to be trees, but thanks.” He gestured for me to lean down closer. I did, and he whispered, “Tell me more about your beau. The one from the chocolate shop.”
“My beau? Frank, you're so old-fashioned for a man with pink hair and orange trousers. Do you mean Chet Moore? He's just a neighbor.”
“We'll see about that,” he said with an eyebrow waggle. He glanced over at the reference desk, where our boss was talking to two teenagers. “How's Kathy doing today?”
“I think she's warming up to me. She invited me to craft night at her house.”
He snipped a pointy tree from green paper. “That doesn't necessarily mean anything. The woman's gone craft crazy. She's probably trying to trick those teenagers into coming back to her crafting lair.”
I laughed softly. “I said I'd get back to her. Would you go with me?”
“Depends on the size of the bribe.” He looked over my shoulder. “And here he comes. My devious plan worked.”
I got the tingling sensation on the back of my neck that someone was approaching. “Your devious plan? Do tell, Frank Wonder.”
Frank grinned. He wasn't Southern, but he enjoyed saying people's first and last names just like a Southerner. “Why, Zara Riddle. If you must know, I stalled you long enough for your beau to work up his courage and approach you.” Frank flashed his eyes at me. “You're welcome.”
“That pink,” I said, eyeing Frank's bright locks. “It's called Apex Predator Pink, isn't it? Only animals at the top of the food chain can risk being so bright and flashy.”
His eyes twinkled. “Save some of that sass for your beau. Take notes and tell me everything tomorrow.”
I gave him a teen-quality eye roll and turned around.
Chet stood there, his green eyes bright as he flashed me a smile. He didn't look quite as uncomfortable as he'd been in the chocolate shop.
This is backwards, I thought. Our relationship was moving in reverse. Chet had been his most relaxed on the first day I'd arrived on his street. Each time since then, he'd appeared less comfortable around me. He didn't act at all like someone who'd been an acquaintance on the internet years ago and was becoming a friend now. He was acting more like someone who feared contamination, with each exposure increasing the risk of something terrible happening.
Maybe it was residual memory from being possessed by the ghost of his former neighbor, but I knew my assessment of Chet Moore was accurate. The man was troubled by something, and that something was me. My presence in his life. He'd wanted me there, but now he didn't.
What was his secret? I felt like I'd known all about him once, long ago, but I couldn't remember now. His secrets were hidden in murky depths.
“Hello,” I said, because someone had to break the awkward silence.
“Hi.” Chet looked down at my pink leather purse, which was slung over my shoulder. “I see you've got your purse,” Chet said. “If your shift is over, I can walk you home.”
“And I see that your hands are empty,” I said. “What did you do with my chocolates?”
He glanced around, looking like an animal in a trap. “I got hungry and ate them all,” he said.
“I don't believe you.”
“Fine. I didn't get any. It was a stupid idea.” He looked down at his shoes. “But we can stop at the chocolate shop on the way home. I'll buy you anything you want. I'll buy you the whole store.”
Behind us, Frank piped up, “In the heart-shaped box!”
Chapter 22
“It feels good to walk,” Chet said. “I'm glad I had to get my truck serviced today.”
“Me,
too.”
We were at the entrance to a park I hadn't noticed before. It was only a few blocks away from my usual walking commute, but since I'd only walked to my job a total of six times including that Monday, I hadn't yet explored alternate routes. The woodsy area was called, according to the sign, Pacific Spirit Park. It was a densely treed area with several walking trails, including some designated as off-leash runs for dogs.
We continued walking and entered the park. The air was a few degrees cooler here, and the air felt relatively moist. This is why they call it a rain forest, I thought.
“I haven't been entirely honest with you,” Chet said.
“You don't like marzipan? That explains why you made that face when I fed you the last chocolate.” We had visited the chocolate shop on our way, where Chet had made good on his promise to buy me as many chocolates as I wanted. He hadn't been keen to eat many himself, but I'd insisted he partake.
Chet guffawed. “I only made that face because I've never eaten my weight in chocolates before, and I was going to explode.”
“You did your best,” I said. “Thank you for picking up the tab for the chocolate, but you didn't need to apologize. I'm not bothered by what Corvin said at brunch. He's a kid, and kids do unpredictable things.”
“But he kept carrying on about people being dead. The boy needs to learn how to be civilized and act like a human.”
“If you think he's bad now, wait 'til he hits his teens. You might want to subscribe to a Wine of the Week delivery service and start stockpiling.”
“Is it really going to be like that? You and Zoey get along so well.”
“Oh, well, my daughter is amazing. I lucked out and got better than I deserved. People say she has an old soul.”
He slowed his walking pace, falling behind by a few feet. “Who says that?”
“Mostly her teachers. What do Corvin's teachers say about him?”
“Not much if they know what's good for them.” Chet took big strides and caught up with me. “But I did get an email this morning congratulating Corvin for going a full week without biting anyone.”
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