by Kristy Tate
“You have?” Celia studied the notebook. “You want to take this, too?”
Jason gave her a frustrated look. “I won’t take it, but can I just look at it?”
She slowly handed him the notebook.
He handled it as if it was rare and precious. “I’ve been looking for the well—not the notebook.”
“How do you know that’s a well? It looks like a spring.”
Granny stomped down a few more stairs. “Are you talking about the Witching Well?”
“The what?” Celia asked at the same time as Jason said, “Do you know where it is?”
“It’s a dangerous place,” Granny said.
“I want to see it,” Jason and Celia both said at the same time again. Their gazes met and locked. Celia looked away first.
“Why do they call it the Witching Well?” Celia asked.
Jason launched into his research. “There’s a study that links the hysterical symptoms of the young women that had spurred the Salem witch trials to the consumption of ergot-tainted rye—the same alkaloids that are used in LSD.”
“Ergot-tainted rye…” Celia knew very little about chemistry, but having spent her summers in New England, she knew a lot about the witch trials.
“Stuff and nonsense,” Granny snorted.
“I still want to see it,” Celia said.
“So you can try the waters out for yourself?” Granny asked with a wicked eye-gleam.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Celia asked her grandmother. “Stop it, or I’ll throw out more than just a toaster.”
“I’m not allowed to smile?” Granny finally made it to the bottom of the stairs and came to take the notebook from Jason’s hand. “I drank water from the well,” she said, still smiling, although now rather dreamily.
“You have?” Celia asked, slightly shocked.
“What happened?” Jason asked.
“I met a pirate.”
For an instant, Celia saw her Granny not as an eighty-something year old, but as a young woman falling for a Jack Sparrow.
“He looked a lot like your brother, Joel.”
Jason grinned at Celia. “You want to meet a pirate?”
“Why would I need to meet a pirate?” Celia asked. “I already know you.”
Jason sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Then I’ll take you there,” Granny said. “I’ll take you both, but on one condition.”
Celia took the notebook and slammed it closed, pinching her finger. “Oh no.” She shook her hand, willing away the pain. “I have too much to do. I can’t afford to stand around talking about Witching Wells, let alone visit one.”
Jason nodded, his eyes shuttered and unreadable. “Yeah, about that. What can I do to help?”
“Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” Granny said. “I’m going to make some tea and sweet stuff.”
Celia pushed her sweaty hair off her face. “It’s too hot for tea.”
“But it’s never too hot for sweet stuff!” Granny chortled and shuffled toward the kitchen.
Warmth that had nothing to do with temperature, at least not the external one, rose to Celia’s cheeks.
“You should let me help,” Jason said, “even if you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you. I just don’t like you.”
“Because you think I’m the reason your grandmother folded on her lease.”
“Stop talking shop!” Granny called from the kitchen.
“It sort of bugs me that I’m the only one upset about losing the store,” Celia told Jason.
“Just sort of bugs you?” Jason asked.
Celia nodded and ran her gaze over him. She had only seen him before in suits, three to be exact—a gray pinstripe, a blue lightweight wool, and a charcoal gray with an aqua tie that should have looked girly, but didn’t. She could see his arms and broad shoulders better in the black t-shirt and khaki shorts, but she preferred him in the suits. The formal attire made him less accessible. And she definitely wanted him to be less accessible. He had big hands, and she usually liked that about a guy, but she didn’t want Jason touching her grandmother’s things. But she did need help.
“Where do we start?” He interrupted her thoughts.
“The attic.” She stumbled on a loose bit of carpet as she turned, and he caught her arm. As they walked up the stairs, she felt him directly behind her.
A ceiling fan stirred the hot and humid air around the room. Two dormer windows let in milky light. Cobwebs hung from the open beams. Seeing everything through Jason’s eyes made Celia want to climb into a steamer trunk to hide her embarrassment.
“That’s the giveaway pile.” Celia pointed at the lone toaster. She waved at all the boxes, whatevers and whatnots. “Everything else is earmarked for the Antiques Round-up.”
“I hear there’s a real market of circa 1970 appliances,” Jason said.
“Even if the electrical cord has been eaten by mice?”
Jason nodded. “I think rodent friendly appliances are especially valuable.”
“Maybe you can convince Granny to let some of this go,” Celia said, her tone turning serious. “She seems to like you.”
Jason’s grin reappeared. “Weird, right?”
Celia ducked to hide the blush staining her cheeks.
Jason picked up a cardboard box and started filling it. “I can post this stuff on E-Bay.”
“No, don’t be silly.”
Jason turned to look at her. “Oh, I’m never silly.”
“Really? Never?”
He found a sailor’s hat, slapped it a few times against his leg to get rid of the dust, and placed it on his head. “Aye, matey, never.”
Celia let herself smile. Sinking down to the floor, she pulled a box beside her and began tossing stuff inside. “We have to have this place clean so we can unload the truck, and the truck has to be returned by five, or we get charged for another day. We have dresses and fabric stashed everywhere—all the rooms in the house, and even our cars.”
Her thoughts went back to the emeralds. She was still disappointed she hadn’t been able to find a nearby pawn shop open on a Sunday. If she had, none of this shuffling stuff from the shop would have been necessary. Her mind raced as she considered what she would do if the Dressy Occasion belonged to her.
Jason interrupted her thoughts. “How much is the truck?”
“Fifty dollars can buy a lot of lace.” She guessed that pennies meant a lot more to her than to him, but maybe after she sold the emeralds…
“And hamburgers.”
Jason was continually butting in on all her thoughts. “Hamburgers?”
“Have you ever had a Colossal Kate?”
She shook her head.
“Best burger in New England.”
“Have you had every burger in New England?”
“Maybe not every burger…”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed.
“I’m going to buy you a Colossal Kate.”
“What if I don’t like meat? What if I’m a vegetarian?”
“Are you?”
“No, but I want to be a Nutritarian.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s someone who eats the Earth’s healthiest foods ninety-eight percent of the time.”
“A Colossal Kate is one of the earth’s healthiest foods.”
Celia laughed again. “You’re such a liar.”
Jason sobered. “Not always.”
The conversation paused, and for several minutes they worked side by side without speaking. Celia felt hyper-aware of him, but she tried to ignore him and concentrate on the overwhelming task at hand. Their silence lengthened.
Ten, or maybe thirty, minutes later, Granny huffed up the stairs. Jason must have heard her, because he jumped to his feet.
“I decided Celia was right.” Granny bustled into the room. “It is too hot for tea, so I made some lemonade.” She carried a tray loaded with a pitcher, some glasses, and a plate of cupcakes.
&
nbsp; Celia immediately recognized the pastries from Johansson’s Bakery. “You went to the store?”
“Well, I wanted something nice, and I didn’t want to bake. You were right about it being hot in here.” Granny stared at Jason with an appreciative gleam in her eye.
“Granny!” Celia didn’t know which lecture to start and finally settled on the most lethal. “Did you drive? I thought you gave Joel the keys to your car!”
Granny drew herself up to her full five-foot nothing inches. “Who said I drove?”
“Did you pay to have the cupcakes delivered?” Celia touched her forehead and felt a vein throbbing beneath her fingertips. How much would that cost? Each cupcake had to be less than three dollars, but add on a delivery charge…would her grandmother really pay twenty dollars for three cupcakes?
“I’m not getting any younger!” Granny huffed. “I need to enjoy what little time I have left!”
“With cupcakes?” Celia asked.
“They look great,” Jason said. “May I?”
Granny held out the tray, smiling and batting her eyelashes.
“You’re encouraging her,” Celia said.
“Of course I am. I’m a sucker for cupcakes.”
Granny giggled. “From now on, I want you to call me Cupcake.”
“Or sucker,” Celia muttered.
A truck pulled into the drive, spewing gravel. Doors slammed. Celia went to the window to watch Joel and Lacey climb from the truck, while Jason and Granny grinned at each other with mouths full of cupcake.
Joel banged through the door and clomped up the stairs. He reached the top breathless. “Where’s your phone?” he asked Celia before giving Jason a what-are-you-doing-here look.
“I don’t know,” Celia said.
“Okay, this is just one of the reasons why your online business is going to flounder.”
“I don’t have an online business.” Celia shot Jason another glance. With pink frosting covering his lips, he looked harmless, but she had to remember that he wasn’t. Not at all.
“Okay, we won’t talk about that now.” Joel held up his hands to stop further conversation. “I have a friend who said you can set up shop in his barn.”
“A barn?” Celia’s voice squeaked. “Are you kidding me? We’re not cattle!”
“Don’t be so quick.” Lacey stepped into the room. Her gaze went from Celia to Jason to Granny and back to Celia.
“It could be pretty cute.” Her gaze landed on Jason and stayed there.
He did look funny with that pink frosting all over his lips and fingers. “I need a napkin,” Jason mumbled, holding out his sticky hands.
Joel tossed him a dust rag.
“Go get the boy a real napkin,” Granny said.
Celia handed him an ancient baby blanket. It was old but clean. “Whose barn?”
Joel looked at the floor. “Judson Hall’s.”
“Judson Hall? Are you serious?” Celia asked.
Lacey stepped closer to press the point. “He said you could pay when you start turning a profit.”
“How are we going to turn a profit in a smelly old barn?”
Lacey put her arm around her. “You know it’s not a smelly old barn.”
Celia wilted against Lacy. “It’s not the shop.”
Lacey held Celia close. “I know.”
“It’s free,” Joel said.
“Nothing’s ever free,” Jason said, echoing Celia’s thoughts. His gaze met hers. “Not really. There’s always a price tag somewhere.” He grinned, exposing his pink teeth. “Says the man who just had a free cupcake.”
“You need to at least look at it,” Joel said.
“You know I’ve been there before.” Celia swallowed. “Will Judson be there?”
Joel shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, and a little less like the scheming rat-fink that he was. “It’s his barn, so yeah, probably. Do you have a problem with that?”
Celia felt Jason’s steady gaze on her face. “No problem.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go now.”
“Now?” Joel asked.
“We need to return the truck, right? So, what better time? On the way there, you can tell me how long you had this planned.”
Joel tried to look innocent. “Right. Let’s go.” He stopped in the doorway. “Are you sure you don’t want to comb your hair, or anything?”
Celia pinned him with her most evil look. “Or anything is definitely out.”
“Okay with me.” Joel shrugged. “But Judson might be sorry to hear that.”
CHAPTER SIX
Jason, Celia, and Granny stood in the driveway, watching Joel and Lacey climb back into the truck.
Jason flipped his keys in his hand. “We can take my car.”
“Or mine,” Granny chirped.
Celia shot her a suspicious glance. “I thought you didn’t have keys.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Granny slapped her forehead, grinning. “I forgot.”
“Sure, I bet you did,” Celia muttered. She didn’t want to like Jason’s car, but she did. Maybe after she sold the emeralds she could afford to get a car of her own, and she wouldn’t have to drive her mom’s ancient Corolla. She squelched all thoughts of cars and other frivolousness. The shop needed every spare dime.
Jason walked to his car and held the door open for Granny with a flourish. She simpered as she walked toward him. He took her elbow and settled her into the plush leather seats while Celia climbed in the back.
Jason pressed a button, the car roared to life, and Granny and Celia clicked their seatbelts almost simultaneously.
“So young man, why don’t you tell us all about yourself?” Granny said.
Jason raised his eyebrows. “What do you want to know?”
“Start at the beginning,” Granny said.
Jason thought for a few minutes before launching in. “Well, I was born and raised in the city, but I spent every summer in Darien with my grandparents. I went to Cornell for my undergraduate and Columbia for law school, so I really thought I’d join a city practice, like my dad, but when my uncle asked me to come and work with him here…I just wanted it.”
Jason looked at Celia through the rearview mirror. “Has that ever happened to you?”
“No, but then I wouldn’t expect it to, my not having gone to Columbia Law and all.”
Jason shook his head as if disappointed in her. “That’s not what I meant.”
Of course, Celia knew that.
“Have you ever thought you wanted something and worked really hard to get it only to realize that you want something else entirely?”
For a quirky second, Celia’s thoughts went back to her dream at the wedding. A highwayman Jason-look-a-like kissing her in the moonlight. His fingers in her hair. His body pressed to hers. Celia hoped Jason couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks.
“You’re probably thinking about the shop,” Jason said. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I haven’t seen this barn, but if it’s at all—”
Snort!
“I thought…” Jason’s voice trailed away. He glanced at Granny. “She’s asleep,” he whispered. “I must be boring her.”
Granny’s soft snores mingled with the sound of the car’s engine. After a few quiet moments, Celia said, “I wouldn’t take it too hard. She spends every night snoring through The Highwayman, and that’s her favorite show.”
“The Highwayman? Is that on cable? I haven’t heard of it.”
Celia fought back her embarrassment. “Not the highwayman, The Rifleman. You know,” she hummed a few bars from the theme song before adding in her best TV announcer voice, “The Rifleman, starring Chuck Connors!”
Jason smiled at her through the mirror. “I don’t know that one. Can you sing some more?”
“No, I can’t. But if you want to drop by my granny’s house any night around eight, you can find Chuck.”
“I don’t know. He sounds dangerous.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Mayb
e,” he said, meeting her gaze and giving Celia the impression that he wasn’t talking about the TV show.
“Turn here.” Celia pointed at a red mailbox beside a long dirt driveway. “I don’t know why anyone thought this was a good idea.”
“I do,” Jason said.
“Yeah?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s got a lot more space than your previous shop.”
“That’s true.”
“So, even if you don’t have visiting clients, you can have more storage and production space.”
Celia thought about the shop with its white wood trim, creamy damask textured wallpaper and numerous crystal chandeliers. An antique cash register sat on the counter. Gold gilded mirrors lined one wall and velvet curtains hung in every dressing room. “I really love the shop.” Celia’s voice broke a little and she cleared her throat to cover her emotions. “It smelled of gardenias. A barn will smell like goats.”
“Or maybe horses.”
“Horses don’t smell any better than goats!”
“Maybe to another horse they do.” He grinned at her. “Pheromones, you know.”
“Do horses have pheromones?”
“This conversation has gotten way off horse.”
Celia bit back a laugh. She didn’t want to laugh, she wanted to be sad. They rounded a small hill and the barn came into view. “There it is, the future home of Delia’s Dressy Occasion.”
“It’s picturesque,” Jason said.
Granny snorted loudly, before mumbling in her sleep.
“I have to agree with Granny on this one,” Celia said.
“Give it a chance,” Jason said, and he pulled the car down the dirt road to the stop in front of the barn. “I wonder how long it’s been since it was last used.”
“Judson’s family sold their goats about five years ago.”
“Goats?”
“That’s right. This used to be a place for goats.” Celia opened her door and climbed out. Placing her hands on her hips, she studied the barn. It looked clean enough. She sniffed. Only a faint live-stocky odor hung in the air. Her gaze wandered over the fields dotted with pumpkins and dying corn stalks, and the woods. Nearby, someone was burning leaves and brush. She loved that smell. It reminded her of the first day of school, new shoes, and lunchboxes.
Jason quietly closed his car door. “Should we investigate?”
