by Amy Boyles
“Catch up, kid. You’re my granddaughter.”
“Your granddaughter?”
The little lady waddled over and didn’t stop until an inch separated us. Sheesh. Hadn’t someone heard of personal space?
“I’m Betty Craple, pronounced Cray-ple, your mother’s mother. Let’s get a look at you. Twirl around.”
I lurched. “What?”
She butted against me. “You’re not deaf, are you? I’m just making sure all your pieces are in the right places.”
I backed away. “All my pieces are exactly where they’re supposed to be.” I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. This whole situation was making a flock of butterflies kick up a serious tornado in my stomach.
The animals, the talking cat, the bossy old lady—all of it made my throat constrict, my heart race and panic run a marathon through my body.
I backed up toward the door. “Listen, it’s been great coming here and meeting you and finding out I’ve got this awesome little pet shop, even if I am nearly asthmatic when it comes to being around animals, but I really don’t think this is the place for me.”
Now outside, I was slowly pedaling toward my car. “Look, it’s been wonderful, but I really don’t think this is the place for me… Oh look, a cast-iron skillet is flying all by itself down the street.”
It was. A large skillet sailed down the street a little ways, stopped, soared up and circled back down.
I blew out a nervous shot of air. “Wow. You don’t see that every day.”
Betty’s eyes sparkled. “That’s what we ride around here instead of brooms. Good old cast-iron skillets, modified of course. You hang around here long enough, kid, and you’ll be working magic like that.” She tapped a finger to her mouth. “On second thought, by the looks of you, that might not be true.”
My hackles stiffened at the insult, and I opened my mouth to say something when that Ebenezer pawnshop guy appeared on the street.
He crooked his back and shuffled over. “Betty Craple. It’s so good to see you. Are you convincing your new granddaughter to sell the store to me?”
Anger flashed in Betty’s eyes. The old woman raised a fist and hammered it toward him. “Never. She’s not selling to you.”
He cocked a brow. “Oh? Not even after what happened to Donovan? You’re going to make her stay?”
My gaze darted from Betty to Mattie. “What happened to Donovan?”
Ebenezer glided over to me. His caterpillar eyebrows wiggled with what I assumed was excitement. They were so lifelike I wondered if one of them would crawl right off his face and inch away.
“You don’t know what happened to him? Why, Donovan—”
Betty butted in between us. “Don’t you start, Ebenezer. Don’t go around starting rumors.”
Ebenezer whirled toward Betty. “My dear, how can it be a rumor if it’s true?”
I flared my arms. “How can what be a rumor if it’s true?”
Ebenezer thumped the brim of his top hat. “Why, you inherited this shop—a shop you don’t have to keep, mind you; one that I’d be perfectly willing to buy with cold hard cash—because your Uncle Donovan was murdered.”
I gasped. “That’s horrible. Murdered?”
Suddenly cute little Magnolia Cove didn’t seem too magical anymore. It seemed filled with evil witches working potions meant to kill.
Okay, so maybe I was getting a little ahead of myself.
Grandma Betty rubbed her forehead. “Ebenezer, you old coot. You stay away from my granddaughter.”
He cackled. “Of course, but she may want to know the rest of the story.”
I wrung my hands until my knuckles hurt. “What’s that?”
Ebenezer’s mouth curled into a dreadful smile. “The murderer left a note. It said the new owner would be next.”
FOUR
The golden key to the front door of Familiar Place slipped from my fingers and clattered to the ground. “The new owner would be next? No thanks.”
I picked up the key and thrust it toward Ebenezer. “You want to buy the place? How much are you willing to pay?”
Betty Crabapple, or whatever the woman’s name was, bosomed her way between me and the pawnbroker. “Ebenezer, don’t you go scaring my granddaughter. You know perfectly well there wasn’t a note.”
Ebenezer chewed on some invisible substance. “Well, there might as well have been.”
Betty wrapped a hand around my arm. “Come on, kid, let’s go meet your family.” She took the key from me, locked up the shop and then shook it at him. “You stay away from my granddaughter. She’s not selling the shop. It’s been in our family for one hundred years, and we’re not going to lose it now.”
“Speak for yourself,” I murmured.
Mattie scampered up as we left Ebenezer on the street. “Don’t be afraid,” she said into my head. “No one’s comin’ after you, sugar.”
I shook my head. “I don’t like the ‘died mysteriously’ part. Not at all.”
Betty turned her head toward me. “You know, Mattie is the only cat I can hear.”
I frowned. “She’s hopefully the first and only cat I can… Listen, this whole thing has been great. Thank you for introducing yourself to me, but I’m not crazy about animals. They make me sneeze, I get welts when I touch them, I’m highly allergic, not to mention our personalities don’t click. Isn’t there someone better placed in our family to take over?”
What was I saying? I needed money. I needed a place to live. In one day I’d found myself without anything but the clothes on my back and the purse on my shoulder. Oh, and the cat in my car.
I couldn’t afford to feed her. I hoped she was a good hunter.
What was I saying? She wasn’t even my cat.
Betty stuffed the key back in my hand. “You’re the only one with Donovan’s talent. If any of us could take over, we would, kid, trust me. And Ebenezer knows better than to try and swindle you out of it, cause he’ll have me to deal with.”
She turned back toward him. I twisted my neck and watched as the pawnbroker’s coattails flipped up and smacked him on the back. He pivoted around, fisting the air. Betty laughed.
I had to admit, it was funny to watch. I stifled a giggle as Betty clapped me on the back. “See? You’re one of us. Laughing at all the right things.”
A twinkle winked in her eye, and for the first time in ages I felt the tug of family, and also the spear of pain as I remembered what it was like to lose my father.
I stifled my laugh, pushing it down. “Where are we going?”
We stopped in front of a store that looked like an old-fashioned candy shop. The window display featured candy frogs on sticks, eyeballs in cellophane, chocolate bats suspended from the air. At least I thought they were chocolate.
Betty pushed back her shoulders and said, “We’re going to meet your family.”
“My family? How many are there?” I said.
She shrugged. “About fifty if you count all the cousins.”
I made an X with my arms. “Can you just stop and explain everything? I’m a witch? I can hear cats? What’s going on?”
Betty sighed. “It’s not a conversation I wanted to have on the street, but might as well.” She glanced to the right. “Oh look, there’s a sprite. It’s going to steal your soul!”
I whipped my head around. “What? A sprite?”
She yanked me up the stairs. “Come on, girlie. If we’re quick, we can outrun it.”
I didn’t see anything, but I was in a strange new world and had no idea if there were sprites that stole people’s souls. So I scurried up the steps and into the confection shop.
A bell hooked to the door pealed as we swept inside. The rich smell of chocolate floated through the air. I inhaled deeply, letting the smell soak into my being. Boy, that smell could dissolve even the greatest of worries.
Maybe except for a soul-sucking sprite.
I whipped around and pressed my face to the door. Not one hair or scale of a s
prite did I see. Not that I knew what I was looking for, but the faint sound of a chuckle filled my head. Mattie jumped inside the window display.
“Betty lied to me, didn’t she?” I said, feeling like an idiot for being such a sucker. “There was no sprite.”
Mattie pawed her whiskers. “No sprite, but a very funny witch running into a candy shop.”
I smirked at her and then peeked around the store, looking for the woman who called herself my grandmother.
My eyes popped bright at the interior of the shop. Beautiful colorful candies wrapped in crinkly cellophane exploded from every nook and cranny. Sugar magical wands, chocolate witch’s hats, licorice broomsticks, and one thing that caught my eye—vibrantly colored jelly beans.
My fingers curled around a small bag.
“Those are witch’s beans,” Betty said, suddenly popping up beside me.
I threw the bag into the air. “Ah!” I clutched my chest as the candy plopped to the floor. “Don’t do that. Don’t scare me.”
“Aw, you’ll get used to it, kid.” She blinked smartly. I didn’t know her, but a swirl of mischief surrounded her as if she were a little bit of sprite herself. “Now, try those witch’s beans. Once you’ve had those, you’ll never go back to any others.”
I retrieved the bag. “But I haven’t paid for them.”
Betty placed two fingers on her lips. “Already paid for.” She winked at me. “I’ve got this one, kid. It’s on the house.” Her eyes flared. “Try one.”
The paper crinkled as I peeled it away. I dipped my hand in and pinched a small red bean between two fingers. It smelled of cinnamon, and when I popped it in my mouth, heat exploded over my tongue, followed by rich, full, crisp cinnamon flavor.
I moaned. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing.”
“Wait until you try the chocolate ones.”
I opened my eyes at the sound of a new voice. My gaze settled behind the counter on a tall woman with caramel-colored hair. She gave me wink and said, “It’s naturally red. I keep it this color. My name’s Carmen Craple.”
“Meet your cousin, Pepper,” Betty said.
Carmen rounded the counter and extended a long, lithe hand. “Nice to meet you.” Then she wrapped an arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the back. “Everyone’s dying to meet you. You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting.”
Betty scoffed. “Just her whole life.”
I shook my head as I dumbly followed them to the back of the store.
We entered a back door, which opened to a large room set up for a party. A huge WELCOME sign draped the ceiling.
About fifty people yelled, “Surprise!”
I clutched my chest as it felt as if my heart would burst from my rib cage. Smiling faces I’d never seen before all clambered up to me.
Betty pressed me forward even as I tried to wedge back. Man, that old lady had a grip like steel. “Y’all, meet your newest cousin, Pepper Dunn!”
“Pepper, it’s wonderful to meet you,” said a short blonde with a pixie cut. “I’m your cousin Amelia.”
Another blonde with wavy hair down to her butt smiled cheerfully. “And I’m Cordelia. We’re first cousins and your first cousin.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling overwhelmed, underdressed and completely out of my element. Y’all, these folks were in dresses and heels, and here I was in khakis and my Safari Club T-shirt.
Cordelia steered me through the crowd. “The whole town’s come out to meet you.”
“And eat some cake,” Amelia said.
Cordelia flashed her sister a cool look. “You don’t always have to be so honest.”
Amelia shrugged. “What am I if not honest? It’s true. They love Carmen’s cake and her sweets.”
Cordelia’s mouth trimmed to a thin line. “Yes, but you don’t have to ruin it.”
Amelia batted her lashes at me. “They came to meet you, too, Pepper.”
“But also to eat some cake,” I said, laughing. I couldn’t help myself; these two were a riot.
“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome,” Amelia admitted.
A knot of emotions rushed through me. I had never met any of these people before, and here they were welcoming me with open arms.
What if they were psycho killers?
Oh gosh, I hadn’t thought of that. What if this whole setup was an elaborate scheme in some sort of evil witch ritual that involved them cutting out my heart while it was still beating and sacrificing me to their horrible god?
I stared at the smiling faces. No sense of dread filled my stomach or flitted in my bowels. I had a pretty good sense of people. I mean, I was a waitress after all—I was used to anticipating what people needed before they even realized it.
Since I didn’t sense any ill will, I decided they weren’t about to make me part of any ritual sacrifice.
And if they were, I could at least have a taste of cake before I found out.
I met cousin after cousin, redhead after redhead, though there were lots of variations of color—some had blue in their red, dyed obviously, while others had gold and brown crossing their crimson tresses.
As my gaze drifted from face to face and I met person after person, I realized that I looked like these women, and they like me. As much as my crazy conspiracy theory mind wanted to think there was something sinister in all this, the fact of the matter was, these were my kin, part of a family I didn’t know anything about.
Cordelia and Amelia pulled me into a corner and offered a plate of cake.
“It’s Witch Chocolate,” Cordelia said.
Amelia shook her head. “It’s actually whatever you want it to be.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Amelia leaned over, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Exactly that. The flavor is whatever you want. For Cordelia, since she’s a chocoholic, it’s witchy chocolate. For me, it’s strawberries and cream. For you, it will be something else. Whatever it is you want.”
A simple-looking vanilla cake with white icing sat solidly on my Styrofoam plate.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” Cordelia said. “That’s what it’ll be.”
I brought a forkful to my mouth and let the cake slip onto my tongue. At first, tart raspberry drizzled on my tongue, then it changed to a hint of chocolate followed by a trail of vanilla.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “It’s like eating three cakes in one.”
Amelia clapped her hands. “See? It’s wonderful.”
“Yeah,” I said in between another bite. “Now I understand why everyone showed up for the cake.”
Cordelia laughed. “I like her.”
Amelia smiled. “I like her, too.” She turned to me. “We might just keep you, Pepper Dunn.”
“We loved your mother, too,” Amelia said.
I nearly choked. “You knew my mother?”
My cousin smiled. “Yes. Aunt Sassafras was the best. You know Cordelia and I are a few years older than you, so we met her.”
Cordelia rubbed my arm. “She was wonderful. Totally unlike our mothers.”
I swiped a bit of crumb from my lip. “Your mothers?”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “My mother, Licorice, called Licky, and Cordelia’s mom, Mint, are luckily on a cruise around the world. If they were here, they’d be stirring up all kinds of mischief. They think it’s fun to be irresponsible and do silly things.”
Cordelia nodded. “Yes. Thank your stars they’re not here.”
I smirked. “They can’t be that bad.”
Amelia and Cordelia exchanged a glance. Amelia spoke first. “Let’s just say that one time they put an itching spell on the visiting football team at the high school game. Tricksters, those two.”
Something occurred to me. “Why are most of us women named after food?”
Cordelia threaded her fingers through her hair. “Because Betty is a kitchen witch. Her magic focuses on food. You’ll learn about it. Just enjoy the party for now.”
“Okay,” I said
. My gaze drifted around the room until it landed on a man weaving through the crowd. He had shoulder-length brown hair, broad shoulders and a serious scowl on his face.
I nodded toward him. “Who’s that?”
Amelia leaned into my ear. “That’s Axel Reign, private investigator extraordinaire, and the town’s most eligible bachelor.”
I quirked my lips in confusion. “Why does he look so angry if he’s so eligible?”
Cordelia leaned into my other ear. “Oh, probably because someone just hit on him. He hates that.”
I found myself admiring his strong jaw as Axel turned to me. Our gazes met. My throat locked, and a shot of heat coiled around my insides and squeezed. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think.
His eyes flickered as if he was trying to read something about me. That slight movement broke the hold. I sucked in air and started coughing.
Amelia tapped my back. “You okay?”
A fit hit me so hard I doubled, nearly falling splat on my head. Way to be cool, Pepper. More like, way to lose a thousand cool points in a nanosecond.
“Seriously,” Cordelia said. “Are you okay?”
“Do you think she’s allergic?” Amelia said.
“Maybe we need a doctor.” Cordelia stood.
I wrapped hand around her birdlike wrist. “No, it’s fine. I’m okay. Just something went down the wrong pipe.” I knuckled a tear from my eye. “Wind, I think it was.”
Amelia slapped my shoulder. “Wind going down the wrong pipe. I love it. But it looked more like Mr. Sexy has a strong effect on you.”
“Mr. Sexy?” I said.
Cordelia nodded. “That’s what we call him. You two had quite a connection, there.”
I scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”
One more interested in fantasy football than my needs.
“Is he a wizard?” Amelia said.
I gave her an are-you-crazy look and chuckled. “No, he’s definitely not a wizard.”
Speaking of wizards, I took the opportunity to tuck a strand of bright crimson hair behind an ear and glance up underneath a curtain of long bangs.
Mr. Sexy had disappeared. Probably for the best.
