Since The Witching Post was one of only two local restaurants and the only bar in town, we usually got a decent crowd on the weekends. But tonight's action was more than I had ever seen, a full house. The receipts would probably pay our bills for a month or more.
I spotted Brayden behind the bar. Most locals needed several jobs to make ends meet and Brayden was no exception. He worked the bar on the weekends. I was relieved to see him busily filling drink orders, but disappointed that he took his part-time job more seriously than me. I was still furious at his earlier absence, but at least I didn't have to cover as bartender.
"Cen!" Brayden waved and flashed his brilliant white smile at me. "We need to talk."
We sure did, though I expected our topics would differ. "You were a no-show at your own wedding rehearsal, Brayden. How could you?"
"Aw, Cen, cut me some slack. Something big came up and I couldn't leave city hall." He shrugged. "It's no big deal, right? The real wedding rehearsal is in a few days." He turned and waved as two local farmers sat down at the opposite end of the bar.
"You think it's all a big joke, don't you?" My face flushed as I fought to keep my cool.
"Of course not." He reached an arm around me. "It's just that you and your mom tend to over-plan things."
"I over-plan?" Nothing ever happened otherwise, since Brayden never planned anything. I had to do everything. I probably overcompensated for Brayden's spontaneity since his plans never seemed to come to fruition. He was a dreamer, not a doer. "You don't do anything other than show up. Do you know how much work goes into planning a wedding?"
"Relax, Cen. I appreciate everything you do, but two rehearsals are a bit much. I just figured the pre-rehearsal wasn't that big of a deal."
"It was a very big deal. Our VIP guest, Sebastien Plant, was murdered in the gazebo. It would have helped if you were here a few hours earlier." At least we had discovered the body and not a guest.
"It's not like I could have prevented the murder, Cen. I heard all about it from Sheriff Gates. He arrived quickly, right?" Brayden placed a coaster and a wineglass of Witching Hour Red in front of me.
I stared at the glass, aware Brayden was trying to make amends. Normally he preferred that I drink non-alcoholic beverages now that he was mayor. I preferred wine. He was obviously trying to smooth things over to avoid a fight.
"Yes, but we could have used your help to manage the situation. A dead body isn't exactly great for our grand opening." I thought back to my encounter with Sheriff Tyler Gates and felt a flutter in my chest. His lean, muscular build and those melting brown eyes...
"Cen?"
"Huh?"
"I got here as soon as I could."
"You were over three hours late. Since when do city hall meetings extend till 7:30 p.m.?" I didn’t wait for his answer. “And what was more important than a murder at your fiancée’s place?"
He shrugged. "Rush hour traffic."
"What traffic? Everybody in town was already here. Except for you." Westwick Corners traffic was nonexistent, especially since Aunt Pearl’s highway sign pyrotechnics made us invisible to passing motorists. Brayden's absence had only worsened my pre-wedding jitters and made me re-evaluate our relationship. For the first time I realized that, while Brayden loved me, I would always be a distant second to his plans and ambitions. He considered me more of a sidekick than an equal partner. I hadn't realized that until this very moment.
"Cen, c'mon. I can't just leave my job whenever your mom decides."
"But she asked us weeks ago. You promised you would be there." The wedding invitations had been sent, the menu prepared and the venue organized. Backing out or postponing the wedding would destroy Brayden. He was also hugely popular as mayor, so everyone in town would probably turn against me. On the other hand, I couldn't live a lie. How had a man I’d met less than twenty-four hours ago trigger such doubts about my future?
"I had a meeting in Shady Creek, okay? Traffic was bad on the highway, but I'm here now." He grinned and turned to fill two pint-glasses. "Being mayor isn't just a nine-to-five job, Cen. I got here as soon as I could."
"Fine." My job wasn't nine-to-five either, but I didn't use it as an excuse. It was just like Brayden to gloss over my feelings, and imply that somehow things were my fault, and that his job was more important than mine.
Brayden was the only guy I'd ever even dated, but I felt like I didn't really even know him anymore. I had always assumed Brayden and I were meant to be together and never thought much about other men before.
Correction. Of course I thought about them. Sometimes I was even attracted to them. But this was more than a physical attraction. I was drawn to Tyler Gates in a way I'd never experienced before. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but it was there.
Like all the sheriffs before him, Tyler Gates was obviously damaged goods or he would have found a better-paying job in a larger town. I found him interesting simply because there was something missing between Brayden and me.
Here I was, about to make the biggest mistake of my life over a man I didn't even know. Other than Brayden, Tyler Gates was the only man in town not collecting Social Security. He just looked good because everything about Brayden suddenly seemed all wrong. "You should have been here earlier. I'm tired of being taken for granted."
Brayden ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Public service involves personal sacrifices, Cen. Work comes first. We discussed all this when I ran for mayor."
I didn't remember discussing anything of the sort. "What, exactly, is more important than me?"
Brayden threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's just not that simple, Cen. You know I can't discuss confidential city business with you."
Aside from Brayden's girlfriend, I was also the press. Brayden was right that nothing stayed secret in Westwick Corners for long. "Does work come before our wedding? Will you be a no-show for that too?"
Brayden rolled his eyes. "Of course not, but I have to make tough choices sometimes."
"A murder and you can't even show up?"
"You can't expect that I would know that." He placed the two pints of frosty pale ale in front of the two silver-haired farmers. Then he turned back to me.
"You said earlier that the sheriff told you right away." What could possibly be more important than a murder on the sheriff's first day on the job? Something in Brayden's priorities trumped murder.
There was a first time for everything.
I hadn't given marrying Brayden a second thought until this afternoon and now I wondered if my head was screwed on straight. "We didn't discuss anything. You decided what you wanted, just like you always do. For once I'd like to have been part of what you wanted." My voice rose above the music and heads turned in my direction.
"We'll talk about it later." Brayden dropped his gaze and focused on mixing a martini.
I fumed inside. Brayden had been elected mayor only a few months ago, so I should cut him some slack. On the other hand, mayor had always been a part-time job.
Westwick Corners had less than a thousand people, but Brayden had adopted his new role with gusto because he saw it as a stepping stone to greater things. Being mayor opened doors and allowed him to hob nob with state and federal politicians.
But I wasn't about to be dismissed by him. He needed to answer to his constituents, including me. "No, I want to talk now."
But Brayden was already out of earshot, down at the opposite end of the bar replenishing drinks.
Aunt Pearl was right. Brayden really did take me for granted, and I was tired of it. We had known each other practically all our lives, yet I never felt less connected to him. His political ambitions trumped our relationship, and even the needs of our little town that he was supposed to represent.
I placed my half-full wineglass on the bar and stood. The bar was standing room only, and half a dozen guests danced to the beat of the country-rock music that pumped through the speakers.
My thoughts turned back to Plant's murder an
d my story. It occurred to me that it was almost impossible to objectively report a crime that occurred on our property. Maybe it was a hint of things to come, since any sort of journalistic independence was also impossible once I married the mayor.
Great.
I would have to give up the newspaper and my job.
The last thing I wanted to become was a political wife, supporting my husband with no life of my own. Did I really love Brayden, or was I just comfortable with him? I had gotten so swept up in other people's expectations that I didn't know the answer.
My attraction to Tyler Gates was nothing more than a physical one. But it was a pull I had never felt towards Brayden, and I liked the way it felt. I wanted to feel it again.
Whatever the feeling was or wasn't, I needed to stop and figure things out. I would disappoint everyone, but I had already wasted too much time trying to please everyone else except myself. I stood and moved towards Brayden at the end of the bar. He had finished with the drinks and was wiping the bar.
I took a deep breath. "About the wedding, I—"
He kissed me on the cheek. "You read my mind. Do we have room on the guest list for the governor and his wife? It's a great opportunity to get to know them better."
That just confirmed my suspicions that my dreams would always take a back seat to Brayden's social climbing and political ambitions. I would have to curtail my magic. Witches are the worst baggage for political careers, and Brayden's aspirations were much bigger than Westwick Corners. He planned to be state governor one day.
No stories, no magic, no love.
No future together. Why had it taken me so long to see it?
"No." I had no time for a debate. I had to get working at the Inn.
"What do you mean, no? We can't make room for two more people?"
I sighed. Brayden always saw things from his point of view—not our point of view. I would hold off until morning before I told him the wedding was off.
"Not now." I glimpsed Aunt Pearl from the corner of my eye. She wore her ancient 1970's gray Adidas tracksuit, the one reserved for athletic endeavors. I ignored Brayden's objections and followed her outdoors. She was headed for the gazebo and, no doubt, trouble.
"Aunt Pearl, Mom needs you inside."
My aunt turned and stared at me. She narrowed her eyes and said something I couldn't quite hear. "Can you repeat that?"
She scowled and changed direction. I trailed behind her towards the Inn's front steps. I felt a tug at my arm and turned to see Brayden at my side. I was alarmed that he had followed me outside. That meant no one was tending bar.
"What's gotten into you lately?" He grabbed my other arm and we locked eyes. "You're not the same."
"I haven't changed, but you have. If you don't have time for me now, what happens when we get married?" I broke from his embrace and scanned the garden for my aunt. She had disappeared from view.
"It's not that, it's just that things are busy right now and—"
"No more excuses, Brayden." I turned towards the garden.
"Cen, c'mon." Brayden stood motionless with his arms crossed.
Waiting for me to come to him.
"We'll talk tomorrow." I had half-hoped he would follow me, but it was probably better that he didn't. I wasn't sure how and when to say it, but suddenly everything was crystal clear. I wasn't marrying Brayden Banks.
And he wasn't going to like it one bit.
CHAPTER 10
I followed Aunt Pearl across the lawn and driveway into the rose garden. Just as I feared, she made a beeline for the gazebo. I shuddered. Her plans almost certainly involved repelling tourists, but she was about to further incriminate herself in the process. A crime scene on our property was horrific enough, but a compromised crime scene was much worse. Especially one compromised by a witch.
"Aunt Pearl, wait!" Her pace was far faster than a normal seventy-year-old body could muster, so I knew magic was involved. Even in the dim twilight I saw the gasoline canister in her hand. I broke into a sprint and closed the gap just steps from the yellow crime scene tape. “Put the can down."
"Make me." She smirked, set down the canister, and rolled up her tracksuit sleeves.
I had no choice but to counter with some magic of my own. We were two feet from the gazebo steps and a millisecond from disaster.
Whether it was luck or instinct, I wasn't sure, but I stopped her in her tracks and disintegrated the gasoline jerry can.
Aunt Pearl gasped.
We stared silently at the residual poof of smoke.
Disaster averted, at least for the moment. "You can't destroy a crime scene, Aunt Pearl. It's also too late to destroy anything. The police have already gathered the evidence."
She swirled around and faced me. "And you can't go around destroying other people's things, Cendrine." She stared down at her empty hands. No trace remained of the gasoline canister.
"You left me with no choice." My heart pounded in my chest. I waited for her to counter with another vengeful act, this time directed at me.
Instead she smiled. "Not bad, considering how little you practice. You really can work magic when you put your mind to it."
For once my talents felt more like a blessing than a curse. I couldn't help but feel a little proud despite the circumstances. Aunt Pearl rarely gave compliments, especially when it came to magic.
I avoided spells because magic felt like cheating to me. I thought it gave me an unfair advantage and I was strongly opposed to conjuring my way out of trouble. I had resorted to Aunt Pearl's bag of tricks, but at least I wasn't destroying a crime scene. "Only out of necessity. Let's go back to the house."
Aunt Pearl ignored my request and turned back to the gazebo. "You just need to apply yourself better, Cen. Why not start here?" My serial arsonist aunt snapped her fingers and a flaming stick materialized in her hand.
I snapped my fingers and conjured up a bucket of water, but it was too little too late. I threw the bucket in her direction, but she had already reached the gazebo stairs. I tackled her and we rolled off the steps and into the grass. We stopped just inches from the crime scene tape.
"You tricked me!" I rolled off her and sat up only to see Tyler Gates.
"What the hell's going on here?" The sheriff stamped out the fire with his boot. His smirk vanished when he recognized Pearl.
That was exactly the question I had been about to ask my aunt. Why was she hell bent on destroying the gazebo? Was she somehow involved?
"Thank goodness you're here, Sheriff." Aunt Pearl sniffed. "She attacked without warning."
The corners of Tyler Gates’ mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Is that right?"
"She provoked me." As the words tumbled out, I realized we sounded like a couple of bickering school kids.
Embarrassing.
"She's trouble." Aunt Pearl pointed an accusing finger at me.
I rolled my eyes and brushed grass and dirt off my clothes as I stood.
"I'd be careful if I were you," he said. "The gazebo's still off limits and I haven't cleared either of you as suspects yet."
I assumed his comment was for Aunt Pearl's benefit, since he had already checked my alibi. I had been at the newspaper all morning, confirmed by my building's security cameras and a couple of other early risers in the building. I hadn't left the office until I drove home at three p.m. and headed straight to the gazebo.
Aunt Pearl's whereabouts were unaccounted for from nine a.m. until just before noon, when she had arrived at my office after the highway fire fiasco. She claimed to have gone directly to the Inn after leaving my office. Mom could easily verify Aunt Pearl's claim of readying the guest rooms prior to her highway arson. I knew my aunt well enough not to accept her statements at face value, but in my heart I also knew that she wasn't a killer. But the law operated on cold, hard facts, not sentimental feelings.
Aunt Pearl grabbed the railing and pulled herself upright to all of her five feet zero and scowled at the sheriff. "You'll never figure it out
on your own. If you ask nicely enough, I just might help you."
"Start by telling me where you were this morning." Sheriff Gates crossed his arms.
"As if you didn't know already." Aunt Pearl sneered.
"She's right," I said. "Wasn't she burning down the highway sign?"
"That was in the morning. The afternoon is still unaccounted for," Tyler said. "I need a complete accounting of your whereabouts, Pearl. Some cooperation would be nice."
Cooperation from Aunt Pearl was like a getting a cash advance from the Mafia. You'd get what you asked for, but you'd pay dearly.
Aunt Pearl snorted. "Let's see...I went to the gas station around eleven. I guess you know what happened after that."
Tyler pulled out his pad. "Do you have a receipt for the gas? That would establish the time."
"My word's not good enough?"
I knew without a doubt that Aunt Pearl hadn't bought the gasoline; she had conjured it out of thin air. She couldn't admit that to the sheriff though. I grew increasingly worried about her evasiveness and lack of an alibi.
Tyler ignored her question and countered with one of his own. "Where were you before the gas station?"
"I'll tell you if you cancel my fine." Aunt Pearl crossed her arms and snorted.
"Not a chance. The ticket's already issued, so I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. You'll have to fight it in court."
"You had your chance, Sheriff," Pearl said. "Life in this town can be easy or hard. Choose your medicine."
"Aunt Pearl!" I clamped a hand on my aunt's shoulder. The last thing we needed was a standoff with the law. "Answer the sheriff's question so we can leave and let him get back to work."
Aunt Pearl hovered a few inches from the crime scene tape, but she didn't cross over. She glared at Sheriff Gates. "I was working at the Inn with Ruby until I went to the gas station. This is just turning into a witch hunt." Pearl crossed her arms. "Can I go now?"
I glared at my aunt. Her thinly veiled witch references got on my nerves. Of course that was exactly her intention.
Witch You Well Page 6
