Old Flames (Lainswich Witches Book 9)

by Raven Snow

  Eric jumped. He stood, quickly finding the remote and pressing the power button. His face was decidedly redder than usual. “Do you need to go meet up with Rose or something?” he asked, changing the subject.

  Rowen pulled her phone from her purse and looked down at it. She didn’t have any missed messages from Rose. “If she needs me, she’ll say something.” Rowen didn’t feel like calling and asking if she needed help. She was still a little annoyed at her for bailing on an important family event. “Let’s go to the movie.”

  That got a smile from Eric. “Sounds good.” He grinned. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Two

  Rowen couldn’t sleep. She’d gotten to sleep at first but found herself waking periodically. The sun hadn’t even risen when she gave up on sleep altogether. Eric was snoring loudly on her left. There was no way she was getting back to sleep now.

  A sinking feeling hit her. The Greensmiths had a tendency to receive prophetic dreams. Something was going to happen soon. She could feel it. There was something bad in the wind.

  Rowen got out of bed. She tried not to let herself dwell on anxieties. Something always happened, didn’t it? Unless she had more to go on, there wasn’t much she could do to get out there and prevent a crime. Which was normally what it was. A crime.

  She headed downstairs, her black lab, Chester, at her heels. She might as well do something productive like cook breakfast. She wasn’t the best cook, but she could hold her own. With a couple of hours before Eric would be awake, she decided on chocolate chip muffins from scratch. They both liked those. She did some cleaning while they baked and picked some flowers from the garden to arrange on the table. In the meantime, Chester went to sleep on the kitchen floor.

  By the time she heard the bedside alarm buzzing upstairs, she had a nice little spread. The kitchen was spotless. There were fresh flowers on the bar where a breakfast of muffins and omelets sat. It was complete overkill as far as breakfast went, but she was looking forward to seeing her husband’s face nonetheless. Eric came down the stairs yawning. He had thrown a robe on over his boxers. His light hair was disheveled and his lean, muscular body was visible in glimpses beneath his robe. He looked good. He always looked good. “You down here?” he called from the first landing.

  “Yep,” Rowen called back. “In the kitchen. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Ah.” Eric made the sympathetic noise expected of him. “I’m sorry, babe. Any reason why?”

  “Just a feeling keeping me up. You know how I get. I can’t shake the idea that something is about to happen.”

  “Well, those feelings are usually right.” Eric gave a sigh as he headed for the kitchen, like he wasn’t looking forward to the approaching excitement. “Any clue as to what we’re in store for?”

  “Not really.” The whole time she had been down here, she had been stewing on the information in the back of her mind. On what could be coming. “I have some vague ideas, but not anything I could actually act on productively.”

  “Well, let me know if I can help.” Eric headed right for the fridge and opened it.

  “I cooked breakfast.” Rowen hadn’t thought she would have to point that out. Couldn’t he smell it from the bedroom?

  “Looks really good,” Eric said with a nod, confirming that he had seen it after all. “I’m definitely going to have a muffin later, but I’m not really in the mood for a big breakfast. Feeling kind of bleh this morning, you know?”

  Rowen fought down an annoyed feeling rising up from the pit of her stomach. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Eric shook his head. “No thanks. I think I’m just gonna have some juice before I head out.” He removed the juice bottle from the fridge and poured.

  Meanwhile, Rowen just glared down at the fancy breakfast she had set out. She waited until Eric had gone back upstairs to start getting ready to take his plate and dump the omelet out into Chester’s bowl. He started eating it immediately, wagging his tail the whole while. “At least someone is thankful for my cooking.” With another sigh, she sat down to her own omelet and muffin. She wasn’t about to let it all go to waste.

  Eric drove them both to work. The Lainswich Inquirer building and the Greensmith Detective Agency were right next to each other. “I should swing in and check on my cousins,” Rowen announced when they got there. After a car ride’s worth of stewing on what had happened this morning, she decided she needed to put some distance between herself and her husband for a few minutes.

  “All right.” Eric didn’t seem to think much of it. “Just remember we have paperwork for that new client today.”

  “I remember.” Rowen got out of the car and headed for the front door to the Inquirer building. There were only a few lights on inside. That probably meant only Rose was there. That wasn’t much of a surprise. Rowen’s cousins tended to slack a bit when it came to work. She let herself in and headed for Rose’s office in the back.

  There was a time when it had been Rowen’s office. She was the one who had founded this place. As it turned out, Rose was better at the job than she was. Rowen still worked there. She still helped out as much as she could—which was a lot. She’d just had no qualms about stepping aside and accepting that Rose was a better fit as the head of this place. Besides, Rowen couldn’t lead things at the paper and help her husband with his private detective work.

  Rose didn’t hear Rowen coming and jumped when the office door burst open. “Oh my gosh!” She threw a hand over her heart. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  “Seriously?” Rowen motioned back to the entrance to the building. “We have a bell and everything. You didn’t hear that?” She drew closer to her cousin’s desk. “Well, whatever you’re working on must be juicy then. What’s the scoop?”

  “Mr. Hawthorne,” said Rose, looking back at her computer screen and continuing to type away furiously.

  “I already knew that. What about Mr. Hawthorne? What did Julia Martinez tell you?” She went around to stand behind Rose. If she wasn’t going to get information in a timely manner, she was at least going to snoop over her shoulder.

  Rose sighed and took her hands off the keyboard. “It’s about the divorce case.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Seraphina wants part of Channel 2.”

  That sounded like something Hawthorne’s ex would demand. Rowen was more surprised to hear that Hawthorne owned Channel 2. “I thought he was just one of the bosses over there. I thought Channel 2 belonged to the older families in town.”

  “It’s not really something they ever publicized, but Hawthorne does own the bulk of the station, which is why he’s so rich. That’s a big part of why he didn’t want Seraphina catching him in the act of, you know, adultery.”

  “So Seraphina is going to get part of Channel 2 then?”

  “It definitely looks that way. Julia is afraid.”

  Rowen snorted. “Yeah, I would be too if I was her.” Julia Martinez had been one of the women Mr. Hawthorne was having an affair with. While he was away dealing with the divorce proceedings, she had more or less moved up into his position as director. She was good at her job. She was also in serious danger of losing it if Seraphina took over. “Why did she want to talk to you?”

  “I think she was hoping I would approach the news in a way that didn’t make them look bad. You know we’ve had our differences over the years.”

  That was putting it mildly. Channel 2 had considered the Lainswich Inquirer a burden for the bulk of the time they had been in business. It was only recently that they decided to back off. They had begun to collaborate on certain stories and work together on interviews and field reports. All of this was mediated by Margo, who was doing a darn good job at it, all things considered. “She should have known that we wouldn’t be doing any mudslinging.” That just wasn’t what the Lainswich Inquirer was about.

  Rose bit her bottom lip. “I think they were wishing we would, actually.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I
think she was hoping we would publish some scandalous details about Seraphina. They can’t, obviously. That would only reflect poorly on Hawthorne.”

  “We’re not going to. She had to know we’re not going to.”

  “That’s what I told her. She took it well, but I think that’s just because she doesn’t want me changing my mind and publishing something unkind about her boss. Which I wouldn’t do either, obviously.”

  “What are we publishing about this?”

  “The same thing we always have.” Rose indicated her computer screen. “Just the facts.”

  “We publish opinion pieces sometimes too.”

  “There’s not much of an opinion to have on this one. In my opinion, Seraphina is going to win this. There’s no point in publishing that. It’s already in court. Time will tell.” She looked at her cousin. “What do you think?”

  “The same thing you do, obviously. I think Seraphina is going to get more than Hawthorne would like her to. Not that I like her much as a person. I don’t think all that highly of Hawthorne either. We’ll see what happens.” Rowen hesitated, another idea drifting to the forefront of her mind. “Although…”

  Rose frowned when she didn’t continue. “Although, what?”

  Rowen shook her head. “I could be way off base here, but…I have a bad feeling.”

  “About the Hawthorne case?”

  “Just in general.” She almost didn’t want to say anything in the hope that her premonitions were just generic uneasiness. That happened to normal people sometimes, didn’t it? “It’s just a feeling. You know those feelings I get when something bad is about to happen?”

  Rose’s eyes grew wide. She sat up a little straighter in her desk chair. “You mean when someone is about to get murdered.”

  “Someone isn’t always murdered!” Rowen objected quickly. “Once, Aunt Lydia just sprained her ankle.”

  Rose cringed at the memory. “You didn’t have to wait hand and foot on her until she got better. I wish I’d been murdered for that. It was terrible.”

  “I just have a general feeling that something bad is going to happen sometime soon, and I don’t even know if it’s right.”

  “It’s right.” Rose folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. “I wonder if we could prevent it. Who do you think this feeling is about?”

  “If I knew that, I would have mentioned it already.” That wasn’t entirely true. “Though, hearing you talk about this Hawthorne case thing, I get the sneaking suspicion it might involve Seraphina.”

  Rose didn’t look surprised. “What should we do?”

  “Say something to her, I guess.” Rowen hated the idea, but she didn’t see any other option.

  “So, what? You just show up at her big fancy house and announce that you had a prophetic vision of her demise?”

  Rowen bristled a bit at the idea. “I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it. I’d just…Yeah, I guess that’s basically what I’d have to do, huh?”

  “I would.” Rose nodded. “At least, I would if I had abilities like you.”

  “You know, I pretty much brought you entirely up to speed on what I know. You could go tell her.” Rowen waited for a reply, but Rose pretended like she didn’t hear her. She just went right on typing.

  Rowen was off to Seraphina’s on her own. Oh well. No reason for anyone else to embarrass themselves.

  Chapter Three

  It was a little after noon by the time Rowen actually headed out to meet with Seraphina. Between the Inquirer and paperwork with Eric, there hadn’t been a whole lot of time for rushing out and delivering prophetic messages of doom.

  Rowen hadn’t put a rush on it. Maybe she should have, but she didn’t feel wholly confident about this message. Something told her she was only going to end up embarrassing herself. Even so, embarrassment was a small price to pay for the chance at saving someone’s life, even Seraphina’s.

  The drive was a long one, especially driving out there on her own. Seraphina lived on the edge of town, where all of Lainswich’s elite lived. Rowen had heard that she lived in Mr. Hawthorne’s old house. Not that she had ever been there. Briefly, she wondered where Mr. Hawthorne was living now. No point in worrying about that, though. He had plenty of money. He would get by just fine.

  Rowen found the house easily enough using her phone’s GPS. It took her out to a large plot of land where a big white house was the tallest thing around. It was downright expansive. The guest house looked to be about as large as her own house. Even the stand-alone garage was impractically large. Rowen drove into the driveway and along the roundabout. There were already three expensive-looking cars parked outside. She hoped she wasn’t interrupting something, though she probably was. In her own defense, she had tried to call ahead but had only gotten a voicemail. It felt like bad form to leave prophetic news of the future on a voicemail.

  She parked and got out of the car. With a deep breath, she headed for the front door. After another deep breath, she knocked. She ended up knocking a few times. It was after the fifth or sixth knock that the door finally opened. Seraphina stood in the doorway, looking down the length of her well-shaped nose at Rowen.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I know you,” she said, with a touch of wonder, like she was surprised she knew someone who would appear unannounced on her front doorstep.

  “Sorry, I tried to call ahead but no one answered. It’s important.” That felt crucial to get out there first. “Rowen Greensmith.” Rowen noted that there wasn’t any recognition from Seraphina with just the name. “You hired my husband Eric a while back? Um…I think my Aunt Lydia helped you with—”

  “Oh, Lydia!” Seraphina opened the door wider. Aunt Lydia had been the one to provide Seraphina with leverage in the form of a sex tape. Rowen tried not to think about her aunt’s affair with Hawthorne too much. “Lovely woman. Lovely, lovely woman. How is she doing?”

  “Well enough, I guess.” Rowen stepped inside. The house was large and cavernous. The floors were polished white marble and the only furnishings lined the walls. The house wasn’t empty so much as it was just massive. She felt horribly exposed inside of it. “I won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to—”

  “Rowen!” A man’s voice echoed suddenly through the room. Rowen turned in time to see three men standing in the next room over. One of them was walking straight for her. He was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, his pale blond hair was slicked back with gel, and there was a smattering of freckles on his face. He was grinning. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Rowen stared. She tried to place who this man was. Suddenly, it hit her like a slap to the face. “Flint?”

  She couldn’t believe it. It felt like ages since she had seen him last. He moved as if to hug her but hesitated. Rowen closed the space between them instead. She spread her arms wide and gave him a squeeze. “It feels like it’s been forever,” she said. “What have you been up to? What are you doing here?”

  “He’s my lawyer,” said Seraphina, as if to remind them that she was still there and they were in her home. “Well, one of my lawyers. I’m beginning to think that I have enough of those.”

  Flint quickly stepped away from Rowen, wearing a sheepish smile. “Apologies,” he said, looking to Seraphina. “Rowen and I go way back. I was just surprised to see her here.”

  Rowen suddenly remembered what it was she was here for and looked to Seraphina. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take up any of your time. Actually, I’m just here to warn you.”

  “Warn me?” Seraphina repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Of what?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, that’s not a very useful warning.”

  Rowen glanced at Flint then back to Seraphina. “I just get these feelings.”

  “What sort of feelings?”

  “I suppose they’re…prophetic ones?”

  Seraphina looked back at the door, like she was trying to figure out a way to force Rowen through it. “Oh,” she said, suddenly. �
�That’s right. Your family runs that little New Age shop. What was this prophetic dream of yours?”

  “It wasn’t a dream,” Rowen corrected, getting the distinct impression that Seraphina was not taking any of what she was saying seriously. “It was a feeling. I just got this feeling that something bad was about to happen. When I get those feelings, someone usually gets murdered. With all you have going on right now—”

  “You thought my husband was going to murder me?” Seraphina smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  “Not necessarily your husband. I thought—”

  “And I appreciate the thought.” Seraphina opened the front door again. “Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the middle of something.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Rowen headed through the door again. “Sorry to bother you. I just thought you should know. Be—” The door slammed shut. “Careful,” Rowen sighed.

  She stared at the closed door and considered knocking again. She really had wanted to talk to Flint. It had been years since she saw him last, so seeing him here had been quite a shock. He had moved away from Lainswich before she had. It had only been a couple of years after high school. Not that they had gone to school together. Flint had been home schooled. Still, they had known each other since they were young.

  Rowen headed for her car. If Flint was in town, he would look her up. Though, why he hadn’t looked her up before now was a mystery to Rowen. Well, maybe not a total mystery. He probably just hadn’t wanted to be around her family and ask where she was.

  Her hand was on the car door when Rowen heard her name called again. “Rowen!” She turned to see Flint quickly approaching her across the lawn.

  It seemed he had found her sooner than expected. Rowen smiled. “I thought you were in the middle of a busy meeting with Seraphina.”