by Cate Conte
“We heading to Pete’s?” Syd asked, looking back at me expectantly.
“Yep. Let’s go.” As we started off, the studio door banged open again and Natalie rushed out. She stopped short when she saw us. “Hey, Syd!” she exclaimed. “When are you coming back to class? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”
Syd studied her from the top of her bun down the length of her fashionable Athleta—or maybe Lululemon—yoga pants, then shrugged. “Probably not for a while,” she said.
“Oh, that’s a shame.” Natalie looked genuinely dismayed. “I hope it wasn’t because of that crow. Everyone has a tough time with crow.” She patted Syd on the shoulder. “Don’t let that stop you from joining us, okay?”
Sydney shot daggers at Natalie with her eyes. Just as she opened her mouth, I grabbed her arm and pointed her toward Pete’s. “Thanks, Nat. Class was awesome,” I called over my shoulder, waving at her as I pushed Sydney down the street. “Can you please be nice?” I hissed as soon as we were out of earshot. “She means well.”
“Oh, please.” Syd made a face. “No one can be that sunshine and namaste all the time. And I know for a fact she’s not always Little Miss Açaí Bowls and Veggies.”
I burst out laughing. “Açaí bowls? What on earth are you talking about?”
She leaned over with a conspiratorial glance over her shoulder, but Natalie wasn’t behind us. She’d gone down the street the other way, probably to the gym for a cycling class or something. “I saw her at Potatoes from Heaven the other day. Getting those specialty french fries,” she added, with a touch of glee in her tone. “The ones with the garlic and herbs?”
Crinkle-cut garlic-aioli fries, to be exact. I was well acquainted with them, although admittedly my appetite had been almost nonexistent lately, so I hadn’t indulged in a while. But they would tempt even the most dedicated of dieters. Potatoes from Heaven was a food truck that came to town every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and parked in various spots in our business district. They served all kinds of french fries, baked potatoes, even tater tots, with special sauces and toppings and herbs. The potatoes were all organic, at least. And all were to die for.
I wasn’t terribly impressed with Syd’s revelation, though. “So?” I asked, pausing in front of the coffee shop.
Syd huffed out a breath. “What do you mean, so? She acts all high and mighty about her eating habits and her exercise but she’s really not perfect either. It’s Monday, so I bet you she’ll be there later. I’ll report back, because I’m planning on going.”
“Oh, would you get inside.” I gave her a gentle shove through The Friendly Bean’s front door. “She never said she was perfect. So she eats french fries sometimes. Big deal.”
Sydney sniffed, but let it go. I followed her inside the Bean. My other happy place. I always looked forward to the warmth and camaraderie inside, not to mention the menu. The scent of good, strong coffee hit my nose as soon as I opened the door, and I sighed happily as the blast of warm air greeted us.
“There they are.” Pete Santorini, the tall, dark, and handsome owner and morning barista, grinned at us over the top of his espresso machine. He reminded me a little of Jake Gyllenhaal. “You’re late.”
Sydney batted her eyelashes, ever the flirt. “Miss me?”
“Always, darlin’,” Pete returned. “Were you cheating on me somewhere else?”
“Never. Vi had yoga this morning. You know, with all the crazies. So I had to wait for her. I hope you saved us something good.”
I resisted an eye roll. Sydney and Pete flirted like this every time I saw them interact. I wondered when they’d just get it over with and get together. Or at least go on a date. Pete was cute, and there was something to be said for being with someone who could keep you in coffee. Sydney wasn’t dating anyone, so it might be good for her.
“The fresh blackberry muffins are out back,” he said. “Just say the word.”
My mouth was already watering, and this could go on forever. “Perfect,” I cut in. “We’ll each take one.”
We joined the four-person-deep line. I perused the chalkboard menu on the wall showcasing Pete’s latte specials. He liked to experiment. Today he was offering a juniper and sage latte, which sounded weird but given Pete’s prowess with an espresso machine, I figured I’d give it a try. Plus it would make him happy.
Decision made, I turned to Syd. “So what’s going on with you? How’s business?”
Sydney sobered a little. “Business is good, but I feel like I’m kind of in a war zone,” she said.
“What do you mean? Are they still giving you a hard time about the store?” I waited expectantly as we shuffled forward in the line a couple of steps at a time. Syd’s innocuous parking job at Charlie’s place had hit a nerve around town. There were some elected officials who didn’t think she should be allowed to simply park there and operate without all the traditional hoops a business owner would have to jump through. On the other hand, the lot was private property—Charlie had bought the building and lot a couple of years ago—and he was renting it out to Syd for something like five dollars a month, just to be able to say he was doing things by the book. Charlie was one of the more vocal residents in town, and he never hesitated to speak up when he didn’t like the direction things were moving.
And these days, there seemed to be a lot of angst in town. Development was once again on the rise for the first time in over ten years, and the town had seen an influx of new entrepreneurs. Usually it was restaurants that came and went frequently, but right now a lot of new retail and specialty businesses were hoping to anchor here. And some people had very definite opinions on how that should go.
Syd usually didn’t care. She figured it would all work itself out and she should focus on the things she could control. But today, something was different. She leaned in and spoke softly. “I got a cease and desist yesterday.”
Before she could elaborate, a shrill, displeased voice rang out through the café.
“Violet Mooney!”
CHAPTER 3
Conversation through the entire coffee shop petered out as people turned to see who was shouting. I didn’t even need to turn around, though, to know who was behind the voice. There was only one person in this town who sounded like a combination of broken nails screeching down a chalkboard and a petulant five-year-old at the height of a massive temper tantrum—Carla Fernandez, one of our esteemed town officials. I felt my face heating up, already dreading whatever this was.
Next to me, Syd’s eyes narrowed to slits and she sucked in a breath. I knew Carla was one of the people giving Syd a hard time about her shop. She didn’t like me much either, but for the most part left me alone aside from some snide comments about my “voodoo shop” whenever she could get them in. I usually ignored her and tried to keep a low profile. She wasn’t someone I wanted to be on the wrong side of. Carla had a reputation for temper, and for flying off the handle at the flick of a switch. And whatever had flicked her switch this morning must’ve really rubbed her the wrong way given her purposeful march toward me, eyes blazing fire.
The anxiety I’d woken with returned, a small flutter in my tummy. But why was Carla shouting at me? I hadn’t done anything.
I tried to ignore the building feeling of dread and pasted what I hoped didn’t look like a fake smile on my face. Grandma Abigail had drilled into my head years ago that when someone was being nasty, taking the high road and being sweet as pie was always better. Plus, it threw them off. “Good morning, Carla,” I said, my voice oozing sweetness. “How are you today?”
Carla didn’t return my greeting. She marched right up to us, bypassing the people in the line behind us. One of them, a guy I recognized as one of the chefs at the seafood restaurant down by the marina, glared at her.
“Hey,” he said indignantly, but she ignored him, coming to a stop in front of me with a menacing frown on her face.
She teetered at the top of a pair of stiletto boots, trying—in my opinion—to overc
ompensate for her short, somewhat plump form. Really, she looked a little ridiculous, especially given the icy patches still lingering on the sidewalks. One misstep and she’d land on her backside, or worse. I wouldn’t mind seeing that, come to think of it. Carla’s thick jet-black hair was straightened and pulled back into a severe ponytail. She thrust her hands onto her hips and took a breath, readying herself for whatever tirade she was about to deliver.
I tried not to tune in to her aura, but I couldn’t help it. Bright, harsh blue colored the air around her head. This was her color, every time. A rookie aura reader might take it as a creative color, but anyone who knew auras well knew it spoke more to her intolerance of others and her too-strong opinions.
“This,” she announced, as if she were on a morning newscast and had urgent breaking news, “is a wholesome town. And all your attempts to sully that wholesomeness are not going to work, young lady.”
I blinked, trying to process. I didn’t have the first clue what she was talking about. Beside me, Syd crossed her arms over her stomach, as if trying to ward off the attack. I almost expected her to get in Carla’s face, but she stayed quiet.
“Don’t look at me like you don’t know what I mean,” she continued, stepping right into my space, close enough that I could smell the terrible perfume she always wore. As someone who only wore essential oils for fragrance, the toxicity of traditional perfumes hit me even harder. Especially when it was so close I could almost taste it. “You don’t belong here. What on earth are you thinking, holding a séance on our street? We don’t call evil spirits into North Harbor! What exactly are you trying to do? You, young lady, are ruining our reputation and I won’t have it!”
A séance? Was this woman off her rocker? I almost laughed, but I could tell from her demeanor that it would just make things worse.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can assure you you’re wrong,” I said coolly. “I don’t hold séances. I’m not a medium.” I turned my back on her, hoping she’d just go away.
“Don’t you turn your back on me!” Carla commanded.
The ever-astute Pete, who had one ear perked toward the altercation, abandoned the latte he was making and came up to the counter.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s the problem, ladies?” His voice was pleasant enough, but I could tell he was not pleased. Pete was no slouch, and he prided himself on his café being a safe haven for anyone who came in.
Carla ignored him, pointing a finger with a long red nail in my face. It almost touched my nose, and I had to consciously keep from slapping it away. “I knew from the beginning that shop of yours was a problem. It’s bad enough you’re bringing all the weirdos to town. This is an upscale place. And you are jeopardizing any chance this town has to be noticed on a broader scale!” With each word, her eyes blazed brighter until she looked positively manic.
I was too shocked to react at first. I’d put my heart and soul into that shop, and it had a fabulous reputation in the county. Heck, in the entire state. I was contributing to the economy and being a good citizen. I brought people into town because of my reputation, and they often stayed and spent their tourist dollars in other shops and restaurants. And for someone to suggest I didn’t belong . . . well, that was unacceptable. Plus, she’d never even set foot inside The Full Moon.
Pete thought so too. “Excuse me.” His voice rose a few notches, dark eyes flashing with something dangerous. “This isn’t happening in my café.”
I appreciated Pete sticking up for me, but I knew I had to stick up for myself. Grandma Abby would expect nothing less. I instinctively reached up and touched the crescent-moon necklace at my throat, a gift from her back when I was a child. I took a breath, then threw up a hand in front of Carla before she could start another tirade.
Which surprised her. Guess she wasn’t used to anyone talking back, least of all any of us lowly business owners. I took full advantage of the situation and drew myself up to my tiptoes, as high as my boots would take me. Since I was already taller than her, it wasn’t difficult to tower over her. “You can just stop right there. I have no idea what you’re talking about, Carla. What I do in my shop is none of your business. You have no right to start attacking me in a public place when you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” I spun around with a swish of my long skirt that Stevie Nicks would’ve been proud of and faced the counter.
But Carla was That Person who always had to get the last word in. She simply moved around me so she was once again in front of us.
I closed my eyes, silently deploying a tool my grandma had taught me to use on difficult people. I imagined white light and love bursting from my chest right into Carla’s heart. It had taken a lot of practice, but once I really got the hang of it, I’d been able to stop arguments and disputes right in their tracks.
But Carla wasn’t so receptive. I could literally feel the good energy bouncing up against a force field of resistance.
“How dare you turn your back on me, young lady! I am part of this town’s government.” She puffed her chest out importantly. “And I will say what I want to say, when I want to say it.”
I opened my eyes in time to see Pete rolling his at Carla’s back. He made a motion with his thumb as if to say, Want me to toss her out?
I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was for Pete to be in Carla’s sights too. I took one more deep breath, summoning all the patience I had. “As I said already, Carla—I don’t run séances. I’ve tried to maintain a good relationship with everyone in town, and I’ve done nothing wrong. But now I’d appreciate it if you left me and my business alone.” With that, I pushed past her to the counter, and managed to order my latte in what I hoped was a normal voice.
“You and your voodoo store are a blight on this town,” Carla said, raising her voice an extra notch higher just to make sure the whole café could hear. “Just like you”—here she tossed her head at Sydney—“with that foolish house parked on the side of the street. And I intend to do something about all of it.” With that, she turned and sailed out of the store. I risked a glance over my shoulder. To my dismay, she didn’t even fall on her face.
CHAPTER 4
After a fleeting wish for that ice patch a little farther down the street, I shook it off. That wasn’t the way to win this fight. My grandma—not to mention my dad—had always taught me to repay unkindness with kindness. Normally I wouldn’t have even interacted with her, but she’d left me no choice.
I glanced at Sydney next to me. She stared after Carla, and her face was a mix of pale and a little green. “Are you okay?” I asked.
She looked at me as if just remembering I was there. “Yeah. Are you?”
“Fine. Just forget it,” I said, stepping to the end of the counter to wait for my coffee.
But Syd wasn’t letting it go. She paused to order her coffee, then joined me. “She has no right to speak to you like that. Or me. Or anyone, for that matter. That woman has some issues. Someone needs to do something about her. What’s she talking about, anyway? What séance?”
I shook my head, holding my head up high. People had mostly gone back to their business, but I could tell they were whispering about the encounter. I hated that feeling. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling brightly as if none of that had bothered me. “Let’s just get our coffee, okay?”
I tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but I saw Anna Montgomery, the owner of the art shop and paint bar a few doors down, staring at me. When she caught my eye, she turned away with a sheepish look. I liked Anna, but I knew she was friendly with Carla. Mostly she just looked embarrassed.
I turned back to the counter. I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until Pete pressed my latte cup into my hands. “You shoulda let me boot her,” he said with a wry smile, but I could see the concern in his face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I brushed it off. “I don’t know why she’s got a problem with me. I just wish everyone would stop staring.”
“I think most people in here know exactly what Carla Fernandez is all about,” Pete assured me. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. You go open that shop and connect with as many spirits as you want.” He winked to show he was teasing. “Warm muffins on their way out for you girls. On the house. You should eat them here so they don’t get cold.”
Sydney brightened like he’d just given her a million bucks. “Thank you,” she said, blowing him a kiss.
“Thanks, Pete. I’ll see you later.” I threaded my way through the full tables. The only seats available were at the long counter facing the street, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye and prompt any conversation about the awkward scene. But I also didn’t want to run out the door like I had anything to be embarrassed about.
Sydney slid into the seat next to me and sniffed her coffee appreciatively. Her color had settled, and she looked more like herself. I wondered why the encounter had seemed to bother her so much. Syd was feisty, and I couldn’t picture Carla getting under her skin. “Smells amazing,” she said, uncapping the cup to take a big swallow.
“Yeah, for sure,” I said distractedly, sipping my own drink. It was delicious, and I wondered why I’d questioned the flavor in the first place. Pete’s coffee was always top-notch.
Sydney put her cup down and watched me with her big blue eyes. “Don’t let that witch get to you,” she said after observing me for a moment.
“She got to you,” I pointed out. “Tell me about this cease and desist. What’s it mean?”
“I have ten days to either find a permanent spot for my business and file for whatever it is a business needs to file for, or I have to move my shop out of town,” she said. Contempt dripped from her words. “I don’t even know if it’s legal for them to do that. But it’s fine. Charlie and I are dealing with it,” she said, flicking her hand as if a mosquito buzzed around her head. “Just don’t let her start the same crap with you. You gotta nip it in the bud before she gets on a roll.”
