by Deanna Chase
Abby gaped at her sister and pushed down the self-righteousness bubbling up from her gut that told her Faith was speaking everything Abby had ever thought but never voiced. Instead, she shook her head and defended him. “That artwork sold well, Faith. He was just trying to keep up with demand. It’s hard to make a living running a gallery in the French Quarter.”
“What are you talking about? He had an entire room full of those paintings, Abs.” Her sister shook her head. “What was he doing? Building up stock for the next five years?”
“No, he didn’t. That’s crazy. We were always low on those paintings.”
“I’m not crazy, Abby. Next time you speak to him ask him what he kept in that supply room that was always locked, the one all the way in the back. Your French Quarter witches painting was hanging on the door.”
Abby opened her mouth to deny her sister’s claims but promptly closed it. Why would her sister lie about such a thing? She knew Faith hadn’t been the biggest fan of Logan, but she wasn’t the type to make things up just to get her sister to dump someone. “You saw what was in that room?”
Her sister’s cheeks flushed as she gave Abby an apologetic smile. “I might’ve sorta picked the lock.”
“Seriously? How?”
She laughed. “I might’ve used my magic.”
“What did you do, make an ice key?” Abby asked out of sheer curiosity. Her sister was a water witch. It always fascinated her how each of their powers differed. In Faith’s case, she could manipulate water in a variety of ways. Chief among them was turning water into ice.
“Yes. But it’s so dang humid down there, it was a hell of a job keeping it from melting.” A look of pride flashed over her face as she mimed buffing her nails. “But I finally managed it.”
“Of course you did.” Abby had to admit she’d always been curious about what was in that room, but Logan had said it was just a bunch of overstock. If it was full of his paintings, she guessed that wasn’t a lie. “There’s one thing I don’t get. Why were you so curious to see what was in that room?”
“I saw him putting some of his paintings in there one day when I came in looking for you. He was acting strange and slammed the door shut so I couldn’t see what else was in there. I knew I should leave it alone, but honestly, Abs, I just didn’t trust him. I knew he was your boyfriend, and I might’ve been totally off, but I was just trying to protect you. I’m sorry. I know sneaking around was wrong, but I don’t regret it. Now I know he isn’t the one for you.”
Logan’s voice sounded in her head. I love you, Abs. Had that just been a few hours ago? And did he really mean it? How could he love her if he’d been lying to her for months? “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
Faith shrugged. “I tried, but he was always around. By the time I got home and learned the gallery was closing, I just felt bad for the guy. I don’t know. I guess I should’ve tried harder, but what did it really matter by then? You two were on a break, and the gallery was already lost, so you didn’t have to deal with it anymore.”
If he’d lied to her about his paintings, what else had he lied to her about? Or had his ego just been too fragile to admit people didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on his art? Her stomach started to ache, and she pressed her palm against her abdomen, suddenly wishing for some of her mother’s calming potion.
“You okay?” Faith asked her.
“Yeah. Just stunned. And betrayed.”
“Oh, no, Abby. I’m so sorry.” Faith jumped off the bed and wrapped her arm around Abby’s shoulders. “I never should have snuck around like that. The last thing I’d want to do is shatter any trust—”
“Faith,” Abby cut her off. “Not betrayed by you. By Logan. He lied to me… for months. Thanks for telling me. I guess I have some thinking to do.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I should have. You deserved to know.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She pasted a smile on. “I guess it’s time for me to make that break permanent.”
Faith gave her a hug, and when she pulled back she gave Abby a sly smile. “After you do that, don’t forget there is a hot dad in town who’s dying to see you in those red panties.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “Were you spying on us?”
“Not on purpose.” Faith laughed. “But I might’ve caught the tail end of that conversation.”
Abby swatted her sister. “You’re a creeper.”
“I have to get my thrills somewhere.” Faith grinned, hooked her arm through her sister’s, and tugged her toward the door. “Come on. Yvette’s got dinner in the oven.”
“If we get the crop treated by the morning, I think they’ll be fine,” Lincoln Townsend said, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped through the back door. Something had been bothering him all through dinner, and before Yvette could set out dessert, he’d asked Isaac to take one more look at the south side of the orchard. They’d only been gone twenty minutes, but judging by her father’s comments, he’d come to some sort of conclusion.
Isaac kicked off his muddy boots and followed his father-in-law into the kitchen. “Just as long as we don’t wait any longer. We don’t want to risk losing the entire crop.”
“Something wrong out in the orchard?” Abigail asked from her spot at the bar.
Isaac glanced her way and nodded. “Fungus.” The tall man turned to her father. “Are you going to give Clay a call, or do you want me to do it? If we catch him early enough, he might be able to get it done so it’s ready first thing in the morning.”
“Clay?” Abby blurted, her body still heated from their earlier exchange. “You want to call him? Why?”
Her father gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Half the orchard has developed a fungus, and if we don’t treat the trees right away, it could spell trouble for the crop. Clay is our resident earth witch. It’s too bad we didn’t know what was going on when he was here earlier.”
“And you want him to make the potion?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Of course they did. Hadn’t her father already said he was the resident earth witch? “What happened to Tally? Did she retire or something?”
“Yep. About six months ago,” her dad confirmed.
“And she moved to Scottsdale with her new husband,” Isaac said with a snicker.
Abby raised her eyebrows in question. “That’s funny why?”
“He’s nineteen years younger than her and doesn’t have a magical bone in his body. It’s pretty obvious why she went for him. Yvette caught them making out in the stacks at the book store. He had his hand down—”
“That’s enough,” Lin said mildly.
Abby laughed. “Good for her.”
“You don’t think that’s just a little scandalous?” Isaac asked, not bothering to hide his judgment.
“Maybe. But who cares? If they’re both happy, then more power to them.”
Isaac let out a small snort of disapproval. “It’s just not right if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” Abby said sweetly, refraining from rolling her eyes at him. What a jerk, she thought and changed the subject. “Don’t you have a call to make?”
“Right. Let’s hope Clay doesn’t have plans tonight.”
The idea of Clay on a date with another woman made Abby’s stomach turn, and she suddenly felt like she was twenty again, suffering from a broken heart when she learned Clay had run off and married an aspiring actress.
“Or you could give him a break and get Abby to make the treatment,” Noel said, appearing out of nowhere. She hadn’t said more than a handful of words at dinner, and none of them had been directed at Abby. “It’s not like it’d take her long.”
“You know I can’t do that, Noel,” Abby said automatically.
“You mean won’t,” her sister accused. “Yet, you infuse your magic into your lotions and special soaps and peddle them to unsuspecting tourists every single day. Hypocrite much?”
“Noel,” her father said, his tone suddenly tire
d. “Leave your sister alone.”
Noel glared at Abby then turned on her heel and left the room.
Abigail worried the hem of her sweater, once again consumed by guilt and anxiety. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know the treatment potion isn’t a big deal, I just…” She let her voice trail off, not knowing how to explain her inability to use her magic for anything other than her soaps and lotions.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” her father said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a sideways hug. “Your sister just doesn’t understand. She’ll come around… eventually.”
Abby nodded, grateful for her father’s comfort, but she knew his words were hollow. Noel would never understand. It had been a decade since she’d cast her last spell in Keating Hollow. If Noel hadn’t come around by now, she wasn’t going to.
“I’ll talk to her,” Faith said, already following Noel into the next room.
“Faith—” Abby started, but her sister waved her off.
“Someone has to talk some sense into her,” Faith called over her shoulder as she disappeared down the hall.
Abby met Yvette’s gaze across the kitchen. Yvette shook her head indicating Faith’s mission was a lost cause. Abby sighed, slipped off the stool, and headed into the living room to spend some time with her niece.
Abby lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her body bone-tired, but unable to sleep. Between seeing Clay and hearing her sister’s revelations about Logan, her mind was racing. She’d only been home less than twenty-four hours, and her life was already in a tail-spin. The pull to Clay was undeniable and always had been for as long as she could remember. She just hadn’t realized that even after ten years that attraction hadn’t faded… not even one little bit. And it was unsettling.
No matter the issues between her and Logan, she was still in some sort of relationship with him. Was a break an official breakup? She wasn’t sure, especially after the last conversation she’d had with him. But she owed it to him and herself to figure out what she wanted and fast, especially if she was starting to daydream about another man.
Agitated, she kicked the covers off, wrapped herself in her flannel robe, and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. A soft light spilled from the kitchen into the hall, and when Abby rounded the corner, her lips curved into a small smile as she spotted her father sitting at the bar, two mugs in front of him.
“I thought I might be seeing you tonight.” He nudged one of the mugs, indicating it was for her.
Abby took a seat next to him and noted he was wrapped in his own flannel robe and had pulled on mismatched socks. She giggled. “Still color-blind I see.”
He glanced down at his robe. “What? It’s plaid. How can I go wrong with this?”
She pointed at his feet. “It’s your socks. One is purple tones and the other is greens.”
He glanced down and smirked. “I knew that. I was just testing you.”
“Sure.” Abby lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. “How’d you know?”
“Know what?” he asked. “About the fungus?”
“No, that I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
Her dad reached out and placed his hand over hers. “A dad just knows.”
“More like an earth witch can tell when another earth witch is a little unsettled,” Abby said, cutting right to the chase.
He chuckled. “That, too. I could always read you better than I could your sisters.”
“Much to my dismay,” Abby said with a teasing tone in her voice. “You never let me get away with anything.”
Her dad took a long sip of his coffee and nodded in agreement. “Kept you out of trouble a time or two as well, if I recall.”
“More like kept me locked in my room while Yvette and Noel were out witchin’ it up.”
“Poor, Abby. But then I seem to remember you were the one who never got herself grounded and had more free rein when you weren’t trying to pull one over on your old pops, so I’m thinking you didn’t suffer too much.”
“You got me there.” She squeezed her dad’s fingers, love bubbling over for the man who’d raised her. Emotion welled up and she forced it back down, unwilling to let herself even think about his cancer diagnosis. She was here to spend time with him, to be here when he needed her, not breakdown and lean on him for support.
“It’s going to be okay, Abby-girl,” he said softly.
“Of course it is.” Her tone was too bright, too cheerful, and she was certain he saw right through her.
“Tell me about what’s been bothering you tonight. I know it isn’t your old dad. Feels more like matters of the heart.”
She stared at the mug in front of her. “It’s eerie how you do that, you know.”
“Want to talk about it? Is it because Clay’s back home?”
Abby let out a sigh. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“He still cares for you.”
She glanced at her father, her mouth hanging open. “Did he tell you that?”
Lin chuckled. “No, my girl. He’d probably bite his tongue off before he confessed his feelings to me. But he sure didn’t come over here tonight to drop off beer samples. That, my darling, was certainly so he could see you.”
She’d suspected that might be the case. Why else would he volunteer to haul all her crap over? He knew her family would help without any fuss. It was the Townsend way. Warmth spread through her just knowing Clay was still taking care of her even after she’d left him all those years ago.
Lin turned to her, his eyes searching hers. “Or is it Logan? Are you unsettled because you’re away from him?”
Abby let out a surprised snort then clasped her hand over her mouth, mortified at her reaction. He’d been her significant other for the majority of the past two years, and she’d acted as if he didn’t even matter. “Um, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Yes you did.” Lin’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s okay you know. You don’t have to act like he’s the love of your life. Especially since he isn’t.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even met him.” Her father had come to New Orleans a couple of times to visit her, but not since she’d started dating Logan.
“You forget we share a unique connection.” He gave her that knowing smile again. “But even if we didn’t, any idiot could figure out he isn’t the one. Will you do something for me?”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Give yourself a break. You don’t owe anyone anything. Not Logan. Not Clay. Not your sisters. Not even me.”
“Dad, that’s not—”
He held up his hand. “Family is family, and I love you for being here. But the truth is you’re here for yourself as much as you are for me. I meant what I said. You don’t owe any of us anything. And that man you’ve been dating back in New Orleans? He’s lucky you stood by him while he tried his hand at being an artist. Not the other way around.”
Abby blinked. “You’ve been talking to Faith.”
“A little. And I know I haven’t met the man, but from what I heard, he doesn’t deserve my talented and beautiful daughter.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close.
The unease in her chest dissipated, and she smiled to herself. “You say that about everyone who dates your daughters.”
He didn’t respond, but instead just held onto her, letting her soak up his love. Finally, he said, “I love you, Abby-girl. Be true to yourself.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. “And thanks. This was exactly what I needed.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Now get to bed. This old man needs his beauty sleep.”
“You don’t look a day over forty,” she said with a wink.
“That’s good to hear. I’ll be sure to tell Clair she’s landed herself a catch.” Clair was the woman he’d been dating for the last fifteen years. Abby had always assumed they’d get married someday, but the pair of them had remained content with thei
r Friday night dinners and Sunday morning brunch. Abby was glad her father had someone, but she was also sad he’d given up on marriage after her mother had broken his heart twenty years ago.
“I’m sure she already knows.” Abby kissed her father’s cheek and shuffled back toward her room.
“Abby?”
She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “Yeah, Dad?”
“What you said about me thinking no one deserves my daughters…”
“What about it?”
“There’s one who does.”
Abby waited for him to continue, but he just smiled as he got out of his chair and headed toward his room on the other end of the house.
“You’re not just gonna leave it at that, are you?” she called after him.
He waved without looking back, and she heard him laughing to himself as his bedroom door closed with a soft click.
Chapter 8
The fog rolled over the coastal mountains and settled over the Keating Hollow valley. Clay stood on the front porch of the brewery, breathing deep, letting the air and the smell of redwoods settle him. He hadn’t slept well the night before.
First, he couldn’t get Abby or her red lace off his mind. Then just when he’d finally begun to drift off, an overwhelming sense of dread had hit him. At three a.m. he sat bolt upright in bed, wide awake with the deep-seated need to check on Olive. Only she wasn’t down the hall in her bed. She was over seven hundred miles away with her mother and god knew who else.
He wasn’t one to ignore instinct and had immediately called his daughter’s cell phone. She’d answered on the forth ring, her voice groggy and full of sleep. After assuring him she was fine, he’d gently told her to go back to sleep and that he’d talk to her in the morning.
Of course, that had resulted in a seven a.m. call from Val, who’d taken the opportunity to call him every depraved thing under the sun. All because he’d been worried. How had he ever gotten involved with someone so toxic?
