Witching There's Another Way

by Constance Barker

  Which is why she was so startled when a tall, silver haired man with the most feminine features she had ever seen strolled through her door, silent as a breeze, and stood smiling at her from the entrance. “Are you,” he asked with a voice as smooth as caramel and just as sweet, “the real estate agent?”

  Linda recovered herself as quick as she could and nodded enthusiastically, standing as she did. “Y-yes... that’s me. I’m Linda Mackey. Pleased to meet you. Are you buying or selling? Please, have a seat.”

  The man approached. He was wearing a white suit that made his eyes, the palest blue she’d ever seen, seem even paler as he watched her. Around his neck was a silver chain with a tiny flute hanging just over his white silk tie. “I’m buying,” the man said. “Or, I’d like to. I’m certain you’re the person to help me with that.”

  “I think I’m about the only person that can help you in this town,” Linda said cheerfully, and shook the man’s hand before they both sat. “Are you looking for commercial or residential property?”

  “Both, if possible,” the man said. “I’ve always dreamed of having a little shop with an apartment over it, you know? La vie Boehm, if you will.”

  “Oh, I... see. Well, I’m afraid at the moment there’s nothing in Coven Grove that quite fits that profile but—”

  The man very casually, and with a wide, confident smile, drew something out of his pocket and laid it on the desk between them.

  It was a solid gold bar, just a few inches long, and about an inch thick. While Linda wasn’t sure of the current exchange rate, at a guess she imagined it was worth about three or four thousand dollars.

  “I’m happy to buy someone out,” he said. “Well over the... what’s the term? The market value. Say... thirty percent?”

  “Thirty percent over market?” Linda asked, incredulous.

  The man drummed his fingers on the desk, his lips pursed with thoughtful consideration. “Yes, you’re right. Make it fifty percent. There’s a little shop across from the bakery in town that looks utterly delightful.”

  “The wine shop?” Linda blinked, tearing her eyes away from the gold bar in front of her, and pulled the lower drawer of her desk out to flip through files. She found it, one-twelve main street, and looked over the most recent estimate of it’s value. She grimaced, and slid the open folder over to the strange man. “That property is worth about a million and a half. At fifty percent over market... after fees and such... you’d be looking at about two point... three million or so.”

  “Ah,” the man said, looking over the paper in a cursory way. “I see.” He stood from the chair, smoothing his suit as he did, and turned to leave.

  “Sir,” Linda said, because she was an honest woman, “you... you left your, ah... gold bar. But, perhaps I could show you some other properties if you have a budget?”

  He turned, surprised, his thin, perfect eyebrows lifting slightly. “Ah, no. Forgive me. That price suits me fine. But I’ll need to retrieve more capital to meet that price. I only have so many pockets, you see.”

  Linda’s heart pounded in her chest. She had a good mind for numbers. At three percent... that was almost seventy thousand dollars for her commission. She tried to speak, but found that nothing suitable came to mind.

  The man smiled at her, and gave a slight bow from the waist. “I’ll return shortly,” he said. “Please do make the arrangements.”

  “I... alright,” Linda stammered. Before the man left the office, she came to her senses. “Oh, sir? I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your name.”

  He turned to her again, at the threshold of the office, and smiled with large, white teeth. “Ah, do forgive me. I’m not in the habit of giving it out casually. My name is Mr. Dove. Amadon Dove. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Mackey.”

  Linda nearly laughed. A man in white, named Mr. Dove? But, then, Coven Grove was often an odd little town. “You’ll fit right in here, Mr. Dove,” she said. “Welcome to Coven Grove.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Dove said cheerfully. “I think I’ll like it very, very much.”

  ***SNEAK PEAK OF WITCHING Your Life Away: Book 5***

  Prologue

  CHLOE MINDS WATCHED her daughter across the top of Wendy Robinson’s coffin. Bailey’s face was a mask of numbness at this point, her eyes puffy and red from too many tears. Her hair had been hastily braided, and she leaned her head against Ryan’s shoulder while he held her close with one arm.

  It had been sudden. Bailey hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, and it reminded Chloe of her own mother’s death. Nothing would fill that void, of course, but she none the less wanted to try.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this day to honor the life and memory of Wendy Amelia Robinson—wife, mother, sister, and daughter,” the pastor said to those gathered.

  Wendy had been well loved and liked by Coven Grove. There were hundreds of people here; even Mr. Dove had shown up. He’d played his pipes as people filed in, a somber, inspirational tune; improvised, as they always were. Wendy had loved to hear him play, like everyone else in town did. She’d have liked that he was here.

  The pastor regaled the mass of people with anecdotes and praise, as was the usual way of funerals. Among the throngs, there were smiling faces as they remembered Wendy—she had delivered them, or their children; she’d brought them soup or casseroles when they were sick; she had heard their complaints and offered her semi-expert opinion on all manner of ailments. There was something of the village wise-woman about Wendy Robinson. It was why Chloe had given her daughter to the woman.

  Bailey neither smiled, nor cried. She didn’t react at all. She didn’t watch, or possibly listen to the pastor, either. Her eyes rested on the coffin, and stayed there until it was lowered into the ground.

  Chloe found her afterward, when most of the crowd had dispersed, and sat quietly by Bailey for a time. Her tongue froze when she tried to think of something to say. Bailey saved her from the need to speak first, though.

  “I’m angry,” she whispered. Her eyebrows knit tightly together, and she glanced up at Chloe. “Isn’t that terrible? I should be sad, and I’m trying to be, but... all I can feel is this... anger.”

  “There’s no normal way to feel after something like this,” Chloe said softly.

  “I wish I could be angry at someone, or something,” Bailey went on. “It’s just sitting there inside me, boiling and burning. For no reason.”

  “I know,” Chloe told her. She did know. Her mother had died when she was ten, a car accident on the way back from visiting a cousin in California. Her father had flown in for the funeral, but he hadn’t stayed long. She been angry at him for that, and then angry at the Crones for not predicting her mother’s death, and then angry at herself for being too weak, too young to do anything about it herself. There was every chance Bailey’s anger would find targets, too.

  “When will it get better?” Bailey asked. Her eyes tracked every shovel of soil as Wendy’s grave was filled.

  “It doesn’t really get better,” Chloe said honestly. “It just gets quieter. If you... if you need someone to talk to...”

  Bailey looked up at Chloe, and gave a small nod before she touched Chloe’s hand. “Thank you for being here. And for waiting with me. It means a lot to me. Um...” she looked pained.

  “You want to be alone,” Chloe said for her.

  “It isn’t that I don’t want you with me,” Bailey said, her cheeks coloring. So mature for such a young age.

  “I know, Bailey,” Chloe assured her, and stood. Bailey stood with her, and they hugged for a long moment. “When you’re ready. Okay?”

  Bailey nodded, and folded her arms over her chest as though cold.

  Chloe left her there, to grieve in private or speak to her mother. She really did understand. She’d once sat at her mother’s fresh grave and talked for hours. Martha had come to find her when the sun began to set, and had to drag her away to Frances’ house, where her parents had agreed to let her stay for a while until someth
ing could be figured out.

  At least Bailey had Ryan. Chloe’s father hadn’t even entertained the idea. The last thing he wanted was another mind reader living under his roof.

  Mr. Dove leaned against a tree at the edge of the cemetery. Chloe spotted him in his stark white coat when the glint of his silver pipes winked at her in the afternoon sun. He glanced up when she approached, his thin, handsome face sympathetic. “How is she?” he asked.

  He was the only other person in town besides Chloe’s coven sisters who knew about her relationship to Bailey. Outside of the coven, Mr. Dove was the only person she truly trusted. He had that effect on people. Coven Grove’s own treasure, that man. “She’ll never be the same,” Chloe said. “For better or worse.”

  “This sort of trauma tends to stir things up, does it not?” Mr. Dove wondered. “Do you think her... gifts might begin to awaken now?”

  “If she has any,” Chloe said. “But there’s no way to predict what will trigger them. My magic didn’t stir until I was sixteen.”

  There were precious few people in town that knew about magic who weren’t directly involved. Most of them had some old family connection to the coven. Mr. Dove didn’t, but he was almost as knowledgeable as any of the witches Chloe had known. An old hobby interest, he’d once said.

  Now, he nodded distractedly as he peered off in the direction where Bailey was. “She’ll wake up in time,” he said. “Mark my words. That young woman will be a powerful witch. Even more so than the old gals. Maybe the next Medea, even.”

  Chloe shivered at that, a chill that swept through her at even the mention of the ancient witch-queen. “I hope she never had to deal with anything like that,” she muttered. “I’d almost rather magic skip her entirely.”

  “Come now,” Mr. Dove chided, “it isn’t all that bad. You’ve done a lot of good, and she will, too. I believe it. So should you.”

  She sighed, and smiled at him. “I’m sure you’re right. She has a good heart.”

  “Do you think you might speak with her about your relationship to her, then?” Mr. Dove shifted a bit, and tucked his pipes into his coat pocket. “She’ll have to know, eventually.”

  “Now isn’t the time,” Chloe said, her voice strained. “She’ll be angry for a while, and she needs to process that before I throw something like that at her. I will, though... one day. I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “We always have a choice, my dear,” Mr. Dove said, and hooked his arm through Chloe’s elbow to lead her the rest of the way out of the cemetery. “I assure you—the two of you will one day be reunited. It couldn’t be any other way. Then, you’ll have all the time in the world to make your family whole once again.”

  Just speaking to him made her feel better. Chloe felt the weight of Bailey’s years lessen just a bit from her shoulders. “I know you’re right,” she said, and patted the man’s arm where they were linked. “Thank you, Mr. Dove. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “It’s no trouble, Miss Minds,” he crooned. “I’ll be here anytime you need me. Always.”

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  Old School Diner Cozy Mysteries

  Murder at Stake

  Murder Well Done

  A Side Order of Deception

  Murder, Basted and Barbecued

  THE CURIOSITY SHOP Cozy Mysteries

  The Curious Case of the Cursed Spectacles

  The Curious Case of the Cursed Dice

  The Curious Case of the Cursed Dagger

  The Curious Case of the Cursed Looking Glass

  THE WE’RE NOT DEAD Yet Club

  Fetch a Pail of Murder

  Wedding Bells and Death Knells

  Murder or Bust

  Pinched, Pilfered and a Pitchfork

  A Hot Spot of Murder

  WITCHY WOMEN OF COVEN Grove Series

  THE WITCHING ON THE Wall

  A Witching Well of Magic

  Witching the Night Away

  Witching There’s Another Way

  Witching Your Life Away

  Witching You Wouldn’t Go

  Witching for a Miracle

  TEASEN & PLEASEN HAIR Salon Series

  A Hair Raising Blowout

  Wash, Rinse, Die

  Holiday Hooligans

  Color Me Dead

  False Nails & Tall Tales

  CAESAR’S CREEK SERIES

  A FROZEN SCOOP OF MURDER (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book One)

  Death by Chocolate Sundae (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Two)

  Soft Serve Secrets (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Three)

  Ice Cream You Scream (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Four)

  Double Dip Dilemma (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Five)

  Melted Memories (Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Six)

  Triple Dip Debacle(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Seven)

  Whipped Wedding Woes(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Eight)

  A Sprinkle of Tropical Trouble(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Nine)

  A Drizzle of Deception(Caesars Creek Mystery Series Book Ten)

  SWEET HOME MYSTERY Series

  Creamed at the Coffee Cabana (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book One)

  A Caffeinated Crunch (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Two)

  A Frothy Fiasco (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Three)

  Punked by the Pumpkin(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Four)

  Peppermint Pandemonium(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Five)

  Expresso Messo(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Six)

  A Cuppa Cruise Conundrum(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Seven)

  The Brewing Bride(Sweet Home Mystery Series Book Eight)

  WHISPERING PINES MYSTERY Series

  A Sinister Slice of Murder

  Sanctum of Shadows (Whispering Pines Mystery Series)

  Curse of the Bloodstone Arrow (Whispering Pines Mystery Series)

  Fright Night at the Haunted Inn (Whispering Pines Mystery Series)

  MAD RIVER MYSTERY SERIES

  A Wicked Whack

  A Prickly Predicament

  A Malevolent Menace