by Paula Lester
I nodded. Internally, I thought it might not be as easy as all that. After all, we were just hearing a lot of stuff for the first time. Who knew how we’d digest it all and what our feelings would be once we’d had time to sit and evaluate it all.
Celeste echoed my next thought out loud. “There will be much for the three of us to unpack together soon. But right now, we have to focus on the matter at hand. And that’s Marian’s murder. And Willow’s lost power.”
“Do you think the reason there’s been no ascension is that there’s no one left on the council? You know, the folks who know who’s on the list?” Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure that entirely made sense. Celeste had ascended after the events Aunt Dru had described to us.
The Key shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she intoned. “I think the reason there’s been no ascension is that it was someone close to Marian who killed her.” Her tone was strange, as though she didn’t want to say what was coming out of her own mouth. There was reluctance in her posture and facial expression too. Still, she forged ahead. “And that would rule you out, Willow, of course. You didn’t know the Crone at all until we showed up here a few days ago. And that’s’ in addition to you not really having time to kill her before you yelled for help.”
Aunt Dru looked thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right, Celeste. The universe may block the ascension because it could cause the killer to rise. The magic surrounding the Trio may not allow for that.”
“Someone close to Marian,” I mused out loud. “Kressida. The universe or whatever may not be allowing the ascension because it would cause Kressida to rise to the Crone position. If she’s the killer, the magic surrounding the Trio may not wish for that to occur.”
Celeste’s face visibly paled. “I know it makes sense, but it’s just really hard for me to believe that the Crux would do such a thing.” Her tone was hushed. “She’s been so kind to me. I mean, I know she’s been on edge lately, and she said some mean things to you, Willow. But that’s just because she’s upset about losing Marian. We all are—us and the Guards. I just can’t believe Kressida would have killed the Crone.”
“Did she ever show an interest in becoming Crone?” I wondered.
Celeste raised one shoulder and let it drop again. “Not really. I mean, the Crone was getting older, and Kressida knew it was likely she would pass away eventually, causing Kressida to rise to her position. It’s what we all are aware of as part of the Trio—that one day those older than us may die and we will rise to their position. Eventually, we’ll all be Crone before we, too, pass away. It’s the circle of life and all that. But I never heard her say she wished for that time or wanted to hurry it." She squeezed her eyes shut and her hands together. “But it does make the most sense, I suppose.”
On my lap, Dixon lifted his head and looked toward the living room. A moment later, I heard tires on the gravel of the driveway. Dixon laid his head back down, which told me the visitor was probably someone he knew. I craned my neck to look out the kitchen window. “It’s Crosby.”
“I think we need to tell him what’s going on,” Celeste said firmly.
“What’s going on? What do you mean?”
Celeste nodded her head toward my aunt. “All the stuff she just told us.”
I was already shaking my head.
“Willow, you have to understand. You’re in danger here. Your powers are gone, and you can’t defend yourself at all.”
“The animals seem to know something that could help,” Aunt Dru said. “But Willow can’t understand them anymore. Celeste, do you understand animals?”
“A bit. Not as well is Willow probably could, but I’ll do my best to figure out what they’re trying to say. Still, I think Crosby should know what’s going on. Lila and Albert will not stop until the Trio is well and truly neutralized. And they’re on to the fact that you will not let up until you find Marian’s killer. That puts you right in their direct line of fire. Plus, Kressida is upset with you.”
I heard the front door open and close. I shook my head at Celeste, but she shook hers back.
“What’s going on?” Crosby entered the kitchen and made a beeline for Dru. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She beamed at that, and my heart squeezed. I thought about what she had said about Crosby’s parents and the accident they’d suffered. He’d lived his life the way I had—not knowing exactly why his parents were gone. Now, I knew why, and I didn’t think I could know that without sharing with him. “Hey, Cros, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” I put Dixon gently on the floor and stood.
“Sure. I stopped by to talk with you, so that works.”
“Let’s have a walk outside, okay?” As I turned away from the two women, I gave Celeste a slight nod.
Once we were outside, Crosby said, “You have something to tell me. I can feel it. What’s going on?”
“Aunt Dru just told me some stuff,” I answered slowly. “Some of it is hard to hear, and it has to do with you.” I led Crosby around the house, and we headed slowly toward the woods. “There’s no good way to say this gently, so I’ll just lay it out the way she laid it out for me.”
We walked along in the woods we’d played in from dawn until dusk all the summers of our childhood, and I told Crosby everything that Aunt Dru had told me. I told him about Lila and Albert, the council, and the force apparently at work trying to destroy the Trio. As I spoke, he was mostly silent. Then I told him about his parents.
I finished, and the silence stretched out between us as we continued to move slowly down the path. Finally, after about five minutes, he stopped and turned toward me. I stopped too and turned to face him, wondering whether he would accept what I had said or deny it all.
“So, what you’re telling me is that you are in extreme danger.”
That wasn’t what I had expected him to say. How had he skipped the news that his parents were involved in witch politics and had died because of it to focus on my issue? “That’s what Celeste thinks. I think my aunt does too. I’m not sure what to believe.”
“These people have already attacked you once. They took your power. It only makes sense they would keep coming at you.” His jaw clenched, and his expression became hard. “I’m not sure whether to believe that part about my folks. But if it’s true, they died trying to protect the Trio. It was important to them.” He paused and then said, in a strangled voice, “I’m not going to Detroit. If you’re in danger, I’m going to be here to help protect you.”
Confusion warred with joy in my heart. I worked to keep all of it off my face. “Wait a minute. You took the job in Detroit? You were supposed to leave, then.” I started walking again, this time back toward the house. I couldn’t stand being still and looking directly into his face to have this conversation.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I was supposed to leave in a couple of days. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But you wanted to go to Detroit, right? You took the job, so you must have wanted to leave here. I don’t want you staying when you really want to go.”
Crosby didn’t answer right away, and I listened to his harsh breathing for a moment. Finally, he breathed, “I took the job because I decided it would be easier to leave than to stay here and watch you fall in love with Jeremy.”
I stopped in my tracks and felt my jaw drop almost to my chest. “What are you talking about?”
He stared at his feet. “I see that you and him are getting closer. I don’t want to see it anymore.” He finally glanced at my face and looked down at the ground again almost immediately. “I’ve always had feelings for you. Always. I tried to make them change—to force them to go away. But they aren’t going anywhere. I want you to be happy, even if it’s with someone else. But I don’t want to have a ringside seat to your relationship with another man.” In the dimness, I saw his arm muscles tense as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “But if it means saving your life, I’ll deal with it. I’m not going anywhere while you’re in danger.”
I
opened my mouth, a jumble of words ready to come tumbling out. I had an awful lot to say about what Crosby had just admitted. Before any of the words could come, my phone rang. I pulled it out and answered without looking at who was calling.
Julia’s panicked voice came through the phone into my ear. “Will, can you come to the bakery right now? This is a disaster. I need your help.”
My eyes were on Crosby’s. I wanted to tell her no, that I was in the middle of a conversation, but even as that thought skittered across my mind, I knew I couldn’t do it. I could never leave my best friend hanging when she needed my help. “I’ll be right there, Jules.” I slipped the phone into my pocket. “Julia needs me, so I guess this conversation has to be over for now. I have a lot more to say—a lot more. But it’s just going to have to wait. Can you take me to the bakery?”
Crosby nodded, and we picked up the pace, heading out of the woods toward his truck.
I hated leaving the conversation half done, but I had to admit to myself it was probably better that I think it over before I just blurted out the jumble of thoughts in my mind.
I had a lot to think over. So much of what I had thought to be true my whole life had been upended in one afternoon. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
Chapter 18
“NO! YOU CAN’T DO IT that way. We’re never going to be ready for the bakery to open tomorrow. In fact, you’ve set us back at least a week. Maybe two.” Julia’s voice was higher than usual, nearing the uncomfortable shrieking range. Normally, she didn’t get flustered easily, but it only took me a moment to see that my friend was really, really worked up. She was standing in the middle of the dining room of Stroves’ Bakery, hands on her hips, and her face almost as red as her hair.
Across from Julia stood a woman with features I recognized. In an instant, I knew it must be Delilah Stroves’ niece. She looked like a thirty years younger version of the bakery owner who now sat in prison. I’d never seen her before, but I knew this must be Becky Stroves, and her expression was meek. Her eyes were down-turned, and she looked like a child being chastised by a parent, even though she was taller and bigger than Julia by quite a lot. “I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled a bit. “I just thought that some new equipment would help our business.”
“Help? Help?” Julia’s tone squeaked even higher with each word. “How can this help?” She turned around and waved her arms frantically in the air. My eyes followed her gesture and then popped open wide.
The kitchen was completely torn apart. All the old appliances were gone, and ingredients from the cupboards were stacked precariously on the big island where Julia usually rolled out her dough. New appliances sat haphazardly around the space, some still wrapped in plastic and none installed.
Julia took several steps toward Becky, her hands still balled up, and I moved to intercept my friend. “Hi!” I said brightly. “I’m here!”
From behind me, Crosby said, “I think I’ll go do a little late evening work at the station. I’ll pick you up in a bit, Willow.”
I nodded, part of me glad to get some space. After his bombshell about having feelings for me and being jealous of Jeremy, I needed time to digest.
“What’s going on, Jules?”
Julia finally dragged her angry gaze off Becky and looked at me. “Oh. Willow. You’re here.”
I felt her tremble a little under my hand. I’d never seen my friend so angry. “I’m here,” I echoed. “What can I do?”
“Sh . . . she destroyed my kitchen.” Julia jabbed a finger toward Becky.
Becky lowered her head even farther. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to help, I swear.”
“It’s not helpful!” Julia shouted, surging toward the other woman. Only my hands on her arms stopped her from attacking the other woman.
“Julia!” I barked, using the voice I usually reserved for when a pet was trying to bite or scratch me or a staff member.
She blinked a few times, shocked, and then widened her eyes at me. “What?”
“Settle down! Use your big-girl words.” It was all I could do not to shake a finger at her nose. I had to remember she wasn’t a pet.
Julia wrinkled her nose. “Fine,” she spat.
“Come on over and sit down, both of you. That should help calm everyone down a little,” I suggested, leading the way to the largest of the round tables in the lobby. I figured the more distance between the two, the better. The mood Julia was in seemed to be just this side of murderous. Maybe with a two on the wrong side.
Becky must have had the same idea because she sat as far as possible away from Julia, letting me sit in the line of fire between them.
“Okay, now let’s have a civilized conversation. It looks like you must have ordered some new kitchen equipment.” I smiled encouragingly at Becky, who appeared to be doing her best to look small and invisible by scrunching in the chair.
“Yes,” she replied, sounding miserable. “I bought new, state-of-the-art stuff, and the company was supposed to remove the old stuff and install the replacements.” Her eyes darted toward the kitchen, and she winced. “I guess they only did half the work.”
“They did half the work plus made an extra mess,” Julia hissed. “Why is everything out of my cupboards? It’ll take me a month to get everything sorted back the way I like it.”
“Um. I ordered all new cabinets too. They were supposed to remove the old ones and install the glass-front ones. I thought it would make it easier for you to see everything.” She wrung her hands on the table. “I don’t know why they left it half-done, and I can’t get ahold of the company now.”
Julia shook her head, clearly trying to get control of her anger. I could see she was about to lose the battle and start shouting.
“It sounds to me like Becky is trying to make things easier for you,” I said gently.
“I heard you talking about how the oven wouldn’t keep a correct temperature,” Becky interjected softly. “And I’ve seen you digging for things in the backs of the cupboards. I was hoping these new things would help. You do so much all the time—you’re basically the only reason this place is still going since Aunt Delilah . . . had to go. I just want to keep you happy, so you don’t leave.”
Julia looked shocked. “Leave? Who said anything about leaving?”
Becky shrugged. “You didn’t. I just figured the better I could make things for you here, the less likely that would be. I know what it’s like to work in an environment where I’m not appreciated, and the management doesn’t try to improve things for me. I didn’t want to be that kind of boss, that’s all.”
I held my tongue, watching Julia. All the anger seemed to seep out of her, and my friend’s normal kind expression returned in a rush. She glanced at the mess in the kitchen. “You were trying to make me happy?”
Becky nodded. “I make a mess of everything I touch, though, so I’m not surprised this didn’t work out either.”
I recognized misery and self-loathing in her tone.
Julia got up and scooted around the table to an empty chair next to Becky. “You don’t make a mess of everything,” she argued. “I’ve been doing my best to make things hard for you ever since you got to Superior Bay, I think. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want to get shoved out of my position by someone who isn’t even from here. Not after I put so much blood and sweat into this place for so many years.”
Becky straightened and spoke earnestly. “I would never try to push you out of here,” she cried. “In fact, if you left, I’d have to shut the bakery down. I know next to nothing about running a business and even less about baking. Honestly, I can’t even toast a bagel without messing it up.” She giggled, the sound nervous and endearing.
Julia warmed visibly. “I can teach you a little. About baking, I mean. And running a business. The truth is, I’ve been doing both here for a while. Your aunt sort of . . . checked out a while ago.”
Becky nodded. “I don’t know what happened to her. When I was little, I used to co
me visit her sometimes. I remember the bakery and the lake and her dogs. She was kind to me. But when I was in my mid-teens, my parents stopped sending me here. My mom said something vague, like that Aunt Delilah wasn’t well or something. I guess she must have realized her sister was becoming obsessed with the dog show or something.” She drew in a shaky breath. “When she called to tell me what had happened—what she’d done, and that she was in jail, I couldn’t stay away. I had to come and see if I could save this place.” She looked around and then her face crumpled, and tears fell. “Instead, I’m ruining it.”
Julia scooted her chair closer and threw an arm around Becky. “You’re not. Everything’s fine. I’m glad you’re here, and I think we can be brilliant partners. Now that I know where you’re coming from.” She handed the other woman a napkin.
“Really?” Becky sniffed and wiped her face. “You’d want to work with me?”
“Of course.” Julia gave an impish grin. “As long as you let me be in charge of things like baking and ordering new equipment.”
“Done!”
“What will Becky be in charge of?” I ventured, feeling amused.
“I’ll be in charge of financing whatever Julia wants,” Becky said firmly. “Aunt Delilah transferred more than enough funds to me. I’m happy to be the bank and let the actual expert handle the important bits.” She got up and headed for the door. “I’m going to find someone to finish the job those delivery guys left.”
“Wait.” Julia got to her feet. “I want you to be more than the bank.”
Becky’s expression was quizzical. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“Like I said, I can teach you.”
Becky didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know.”
“I do. I’ll teach you to do some simple baking. To wait on customers and put together catering orders. It doesn’t matter how long you take to learn—there’s no hurry.” Julia’s tone made it seem like her declaration was final.
“But . . . what if I mess up?”
