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Banshees and Babysitters: A Mommy Cozy Paranormal Mystery (Mystic Cove Mysteries Book 3)

Page 7

by Amanda A. Allen


  Scarlett felt a flash of relief when Harper’s anger didn’t extend to Agnes.

  “Remember when she rescued those kittens and bottled fed them until they were ready to be adopted?”

  Harper didn’t reply, so Scarlett carried on, reminding her sister of how Agnes ran the charity drive for clothes, how she tutored kids who were behind in school. That one time she’d let the homeless into her B&B during a particularly nasty winter storm and served them a feast.

  “They said he’d be ok,” Harper said telling Scarlett that she’d been talking unheard. “They said it was bad, but not too late. Magic and medicine would take care of the rest.”

  Scarlett let out the breath she’d hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands quivered with relief and exhaustion.

  “Thank the stars,” Scarlett breathed. “I was so afraid to ask.”

  Harper didn’t answer.

  So Scarlett said, “You’re in love.”

  “I don’t fall in love,” Harper said defensively. She glanced away so sharply her hair grazed Scarlett’s cheek.

  “Yes, you do.” Scarlett said firmly. “You did.”

  “You can’t trust people.” Harper countered. “Everyone abandons you.”

  “You can trust Quinton,” Scarlett said just as firmly.

  Harper turned on Scarlett and demanded, “How can you believe that? Are you stupid and naive? Lex turned on you today. Gus disappeared. Grant cheated on you. Your dad left Mom. My first mom chose drugs over me. My dad had to be arrested for the DNA sample to prove he was my dad and it took him 4 seconds to sign me away. No foster home kept me longer than 6 months.”

  “Mom adopted you in 4 seconds after seeing you. Your mom loved you and the drugs prevented her from showing that. Your dad was a loser, but so was mine. Grant was worth the sacrifice. Love is worth the pain, Harper Oaken.”

  Harper rose and paced finally she turned and said, “I’m afraid,” Harper whispered. “I’m so afraid.”

  “I can’t promise you that Quinton will love you back. I don’t know him that well. But I think he does love you. “

  “You could be wrong,” Harper snapped. “Life is an endless round of pain.”

  “I could be right…life is also an endless round of joy.”

  “But what if you aren’t right? I can’t keep this up…I can’t keep being rejected.”

  “What if I’m right? What if he’s your other half?”

  “You ran away from Gus. If anyone was your other half, it was Gus.”

  “Maybe,” Scarlett said, “But does it help you to know I hate myself for being a coward? For hurting him and for losing out on what we could have had together. I hate myself for not trying.”

  Harper hesitated and then said, “Gus moved too fast. You were still hurting. He should have waited.”

  Scarlett didn’t disagree, but she didn’t bother saying that. This wasn’t about her. Not today. “Quinton seems willing to go slow.”

  Harper sniffed and then said, “Maybe.”

  “I like him,” Scarlett said. “And Luna and Ella like him.”

  “Even Gram likes him,” Harper said. “She went over to his shop to harass him and when she left she told me not to be as epically stupid as I was known for being.”

  Scarlett laughed and it was a little teary because she knew that it wouldn’t be easy sailing for either of them. Love and life weren’t ever easy. “Gram’s so mean.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Just like you.”

  Harper was laughing when the nurse came in and took her back to Quinton. Scarlett left them to whatever they were becoming and went home to her babies. She found them sleeping in the grove, with the stars shining overhead. She wormed her way in between Max and Luna and curled around her daughter’s body, letting the grove sink into her soul and ground her.

  * * * * *

  “I’d like to see them,” Grant said.

  Scarlett stared at him. He had come into the bakery alone. He’d called first to make sure the girls wouldn't be there. He’d listened for once. Belinda was back at the espresso machine, and her ears were as perked as they could be while trying to be unobtrusive. The cookie trays were loaded. Cakes were under domes on the top of the window display. Things were back to normal. Except for Grant. Except for him being here in her bakery.

  “Mr. Muscato wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t brought that gun,” Scarlett said. She was not pulling a single punch today. She didn’t owe him anything.

  He took a step back and then nodded once.

  “We’re not monsters, Grant. You don’t have to come armed to visit us.”

  He bit his lip before he said in a near-broken voice, “I know.”

  “We’re not freaks either.”

  That one had him rubbing his heart. Good, she thought. Their daughters had deserved better than that shot. They’d heard him call them freaks. It hadn’t really been intended for them. It had been intended for her. If she were a freak, she knew, it would make what he’d done to their family justifiable. She might understand that, but their girls didn’t. She wasn’t sure they ever would.

  “I know.” His teeth gritted and then he said again, in that broken voice. “I know.”

  “I won’t make them see you,” she said without give. “I won’t make them face you if they’re not ready.”

  “Will you please let me ask them?”

  She shook her head. Her face was set and ungiving even though the look he cast her way pleading.

  Finally he said, “Will you ask them for me? Tell them I’m sorry?”

  She glanced him over having a hard time believing that she’d loved him once. Given everything to keep their family together. Stayed and struggled and cared for him and their family. It felt like that was another Scarlett. It was, she thought. She’d been forced to grow and change since they’d been a couple. She’d had to.

  “You can’t bring Jen. Not until they tell you they’re ready. And you don’t ask them. You wait and let me broach it. And certainly not on this visit.”

  He didn’t want to agree, but he agreed anyway.

  “Same with the baby.”

  Again, he didn’t argue.

  “You pay child support and back child support.”

  He hesitated again and her expression said he wouldn’t get away with not supporting their children.

  “Back child support will be hard.”

  “Supporting them on my own has been hard,” Scarlett said. She was not giving him his way in this. For the sheer audacity he’d had to stop paying, she wasn’t giving him an inch.

  “I have a new baby,” he tried to wheedle, running his hand through his sparse hair.

  “That is not my problem.”

  He got angry at that reply. It was evident in the way his ears turned red, the way his body shifted, the way she could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. She stared him down. He knew her well enough to recognize she wasn't going to let it go.

  “Fine,” he snapped.

  She raised her brow at him, crossing her arms over her chest and waited.

  “Ok,” he said in a more controlled tone.

  “If you ever make them feel bad about themselves again, I will destroy you.”

  “Ok,” he said. There was enough regret in his tone of voice that conveyed repentance that she was willing to take a deep breath and say, “I’ll talk to Ella. Luna will see you if Ella does.”

  “What if Ella won’t? Can I see Luna?”

  “I doubt you’ll have a chance with Luna if Ella says no.”

  He wanted to argue, but she didn’t see how any of this was her problem. She’d have liked to prevent visits and make him stay away. Except she didn’t think that was best for their daughters, and her wants were nothing compared to what was best for them.

  “I’ll talk to Ella tonight,” Scarlett said.

  He nodded and left, trying to hide his temper and failing. But he left without slamming the door and he left without any nasty shots h
er way.

  Scarlett didn't move until the bakery door closed gently. Then she dropped her crossed arms and rubbed her lower back. She took in a deep breath, let it whoosh out, and considered on the scent of rain while she cracked her neck.

  When she stood up straight again and turned to go back to work, Belinda said, “You are hardcore, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett turned and looked at the teen. Belinda had lost weight since she’d sensed Mr. Muscato’s death and the dark circles under her eyes were still very present, but there was a light in her eyes again.

  Scarlett winked and said, “Why…thank you…thank you very much.”

  The End

  Hey! Thank you so much for reading Scarlett’s story. If you enjoyed it, I would be so grateful for a review. Reviews mean a lot to writers like me as well as to readers.

  If you enjoyed Quinton and Harper in this story, the tale of how they met can be found in the short story Costumes and Cauldrons which is in the collection, Witch or Treat.

  Amanda has a newsletter for anyone interested in finding out about upcoming books and updates! If you’d like to sign up, click here.

  Coming in October: Spellbooks and Sleepovers. A Halloween short story with monsters and little girls. Scarlett’s patience is taxed to its limits in the attempt to keep the girls safe while they face a series of tricks. But are they tricks or is something more sinister going on? Preorder here.

  The Mystic Cove Mommy Mysteries

  Bedtimes & Broomsticks

  Runes & Roller Skates

  Costumes and Cauldrons (found in the anthology Witch or Treat)

  Banshees and Babysitters

  Spellbooks and Sleepovers (Coming in October)

  The Zinnia West 1950s Mysteries (co-written with Christina Hill)

  Zinnia West & The Corpse Served Cold

  Zinnia West & The Corpse Burnt Crisp

  The Rue Hallow Mysteries

  Hallow Graves

  Hungry Graves

  Lonely Graves

  Sisters and Graves

  Yule Graves

  Fated Graves

  Ruby Graves

  The Inept Witches Mysteries (co-written with Auburn Seal)

  Inconvenient Murder

  Moonlight Murder

  Bewitched Murder

  Presidium Vignettes (with Rue Hallow)

  Prague Murder

  Paris Murder

  Murder By Degrees

  Curses of the Witch Queen

  Fairy Tales Re-Imagined

  Song of Sorrow: A Prelude to Rapunzel

  Snow White

  Kendawyn Paranormal Regency Romances

  Compelled by Love

  Bewildered by Love

  Persuaded to Love

  Other Novels

  These Lying Eyes

  Copyright © 2017 by Amanda A. Allen

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

 

 


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