Potions and Pastries

by Bailey Cates

  “I just know you’re going to love this one!” Cookie said, ushering us out to her car.

  I exchanged grins with Declan. “I’m sure we will.”

  She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Really, you two. I’m not kidding. This. Is. The. One.”

  “Bring it on, darlin’!” he said with a laugh.

  She drove us to Paradise Park, wending down streets lined with live oak trees that dripped with Spanish moss. However, a few lots sprawled bare and treeless from the street. She stopped in front of one of these. The only tree on the property was a lone magnolia by the front corner of the house.

  Just like at my house.

  It was a brick two-story on an oversized lot, also very similar in appearance to the carriage house. The driveway led up the right side of the home, and ended at a two-car garage.

  As Declan had requested.

  We got out, and Mungo immediately ran to the middle of the front yard.

  Yip!

  “Okay, little guy.” I laughed. “Let’s not jump the gun.” But I could see why Cookie was beaming from ear to ear.

  “It only has two bedrooms,” she said. “So it’s not too big. But there are also one and three-quarters baths, so you wouldn’t have to share—or one could be a guest bath. And there’s a den, which you could use to watch television like you have in your loft right now. Come on!”

  She hurried to the front door, retrieved the key from the lockbox, and led us inside.

  The windows had shutters, and the floors were the same color of wood. The planks weren’t as old as the ones in the carriage house, but very similar. Declan grinned as he pointed to a built-in bookcase. It was even in the same part of the living room. We went upstairs to the bedrooms, examining light fixtures, paint condition, and how nicely the closet doors slid open. Real closet doors, not freestanding armoires. We checked out the bright and cheery bathrooms, both of which had been recently updated, and the den, which could just as easily have been called a third bedroom except that it opened off the living room.

  “It doesn’t have French doors, but you could install them,” Cookie said, gesturing us out to the backyard. “And the yard needs to be fenced. It’s a clear palette for whatever gardens you want to put in, though. You could even move your gazebo over here. And look!” She pointed to a tower of stones about six feet tall. “It’s a fountain. Not the same as your stream, but it’s still a water feature.”

  I smiled. “You are a gem, Cookie. How long did it take you to find this?” Never mind that it didn’t feel exactly right. If we bought it, it would become a real home soon enough, right?

  “Forever, it seems like. Come see the kitchen.”

  We trailed back inside. “It’s the only downfall,” she said. “I mean, it’s bigger, but not too big. It needs to be updated, for sure. The owners know that, though, and might be willing to come down on the price.”

  Turning in a circle, I took in the older appliances, the deep windowsill suitable for a row of potted plants, a work surface three times bigger than the small spot on the counter I currently had. She was right that the space could use some updates, but that was doable.

  I didn’t hate it. I didn’t love it as much as I did my carriage house, but it was definitely the best thing we’d seen so far.

  It’s not going to get any better than this. Stop procrastinating and bite the bullet. Make a decision.

  Make the sacrifice—and move on.

  “What do you think, Deck?” I asked.

  “Do you like it?” he countered.

  Cookie looked hopeful.

  I smiled. “It has definite possibilities.”

  My fiancé let out a breath and gave me a small smile. “I think so, too.”

  “Do you want to make an offer?” Cookie asked.

  “Um, can we think about it?” I asked.

  “Not for very long,” she said. “We need to jump on it as soon as you know you want it.”

  “Noted,” Declan said. “We just need to chat about a few things.”

  The front door opened, and a very pregnant woman walked in. She was about my age, and she looked surprised to see us. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just seeing if we’d left a certain teddy bear here that last time we came over. It was never her favorite before, but my daughter has decided that she will simply perish if she can’t have it. Excuse me.”

  She went upstairs, and we heard the closet doors slide. Seconds later, she’d returned. “Nope. It’s probably still in one of the boxes I haven’t gotten to unpacking yet.” She smiled and stuck out her hand. “Laura Brand.”

  I shook it. “Katie Lightfoot—and this is Declan McCarthy.”

  She eyed the sapphire engagement ring on my finger. “Ah. What do you think of the place? My husband and I loved it, but the family is getting too big for this space.” She patted her ample baby bump.

  Before either of us could answer, Cookie stepped forward. “They might be interested. I mentioned the kitchen, however. It’s in desperate need of updating.”

  “True enough,” Laura said easily. “We had to choose between that or fixing our badly cracked driveway. We chose the concrete work.” A dragonfly buzzed behind her head. She laughed. “It’s one of the best driveways in the neighborhood now, though.”

  Concrete. Could it be?

  We went outside to take a look. Leaving Declan to inspect the particulars of the driveway, I asked, “Who did the work?”

  “Black and Sons,” she said.

  Bingo.

  Declan heard and came back to stand by me. “It looks like they did a good job,” he said.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Did it take very long?” he asked.

  “Only a few days,” Laura said. “They sent a crew over, and they worked like crazy jackhammering the old cement out and pouring the new drive. And John Black was great to work with. Called every day to update us on where they were in the project. Plus, they came in right on budget.”

  “So you’d recommend them?”

  “Sure.” She got a funny look on her face. “But you know, we needed a new driveway. Our old one was in terrible shape. But the Atencios over in that yellow house?” Laura pointed. “They had the same company replace their driveway, even though it was in perfect shape.” She shrugged. “Maybe there was something structurally wrong with it, water damage or tree roots or something. Or maybe we’re trendsetters! Ha. Anyway, if you need some work done and are looking for more feedback on the company, you might check with them.”

  We thanked her, and she left to try to unearth her daughter’s toy in their new home. As she drove away, Declan and I looked at each other.

  “It can’t hurt to talk to them,” I said.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Wait! What about this house?” Cookie demanded.

  Yip!

  “Well, Mungo’s voted,” I said.

  “We’ve seen all we need to, and we’ll talk it over tonight,” Declan said, taking her by the arm and steering her toward the Atencios’ yellow house. “Right now, we need to talk to a man about some concrete work.”

  It wasn’t a man who answered the door, though. It was a woman—tall and bony, with vertical creases around her mouth, wearing white polyester pants and a floral print top. She peered at us through thick glasses, saying, “Can I help you?”

  Declan smiled at her. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Declan McCarthy. We were just looking at the house down the street there that’s for sale?”

  She looked between us, then out at Cookie, who had veered over to look at the driveway. “And you were wondering about the neighborhood.”

  “Well, um, yes,” I said.

  “Most of the people here are good folks,” she said. “There’s a bit of riffraff, though. Gonna find that anywhere, I guess. Still, the place has
run down a bit, if you ask me. Now, you two look like you’d be a good addition. Hate it that the Brands are selling, but they’ve got that new one on the way, so it’s understandable.” She shook her head. “Can’t tell you about the schools, though. You’ll have to ask some of the people with kids about that. Or you might be able to get some information about that on that Internet. I don’t hold with all those fancy computers much, myself. I think you all spend too much time looking at screens nowadays. Itty-bitty screens and middle-sized screens and big ol’ TV screens. Lordy, some of those things should be in a theater. You have little ones?”

  “Er, not yet,” I said.

  “Well, when you do, you be sure to have them run around outside in the sunshine, not camp in front of the boob tube like my son lets my grandkids do. Isn’t good for them.” She suddenly stopped talking, taking us by surprise.

  “Um, we were just admiring your driveway. We might need some concrete work done, and Laura Brand said you both had Black and Sons do yours?”

  Mrs. Atencio’s face clouded. “Oh, we sure did. We. Ha. That husband of mine did. Now, the Brands needed a new driveway, absolutely they did. But we absolutely did not. For some dad-blamed reason, my husband got it into his head that he wanted a fancy stamped-concrete thing out there. We have the one car, a Buick we’ve owned for nearly fifteen years now, and all of a sudden he thinks it deserves some kind of red carpet to drive on from the street into the garage. For Pete’s sake. I don’t know how that man from Black’s convinced him to do such a thing. By the time I found out about it, they had half the old driveway torn out, or believe you me, I would have put a stop to that nonsense faster than you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ Yes, I would have. But once they tore it up, they had to finish it, didn’t they? At least I told them to just pour a regular old strip of concrete in there.” She made a rude noise. “Stamped concrete, supposed to look like stepping-stones or something. Ridiculous.” She wagged her head back and forth again. “My husband is not usually one to make snap decisions, but it was as if that salesman from Black and Sons hypnotized the foolish man.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Is that so?” I managed.

  “I can’t think of another reason he’d tear up a perfectly good driveway just to put in another one.”

  “Who was the salesman?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Had dark hair.”

  That covered most of the males in the Black family that I’d met, other than Finn. However, Laura had said she’d worked with John Black, so that was probably who had talked to the Atencios.

  Heaven knew John had made it fairly clear he didn’t like yours truly, first with his antisocial behavior and then by actually threatening to take out a restraining order. He’d been at the top of my suspect list ever since I realized I’d been hypnotized.

  Declan looked a question at me. I gave an infinitesimal shake of my head. I couldn’t think of anything else to ask her.

  “Thank you very much, ma’am,” he said.

  “You’re very welcome. You stop on by if you decide to buy the house. I’ll introduce you around to the other neighbors.”

  We turned to go.

  Behind us, she called, “And if you decide to get any concrete work done, stay away from Black and Sons.”

  • • •

  Cookie started extolling the virtues of the house we’d just looked at as soon as we got in her car. Declan and I waited for her to wind down, but it didn’t happen before we’d reached the bakery. It was after five by then, and the Honeybee was closed. Declan and I told Cookie that we’d call her first thing in the morning with our decision and waved as she drove away.

  Once we got in Declan’s pickup, I brought up what Mrs. Atencio had said about her husband seeming to be under some kind of thrall when he’d ordered their driveway work. “Do you think John Black uses hypnotism to get work for their company?”

  He grimaced. “Maybe. And Mrs. Atencio, as relentlessly opinionated as she is, seemed almost sure there was some unusual influence on her husband.”

  I gave a kind of facial shrug. “That’s more than we’ve heard about either John Black or Ginnie. I don’t even know if Ginnie is really a hypnotist. I just remember her listing it as one of many talents in the Black family.” I snapped my fingers. “She did say the skills from her magic act are still useful in the classroom. I’m going to call Colette when we get home and see if she can tell me anything.”

  He reached over and massaged the back of my neck. “Careful. She’s only eight.”

  “Mmm. That feels great. And of course I’ll be careful.”

  • • •

  After our brunch and then the late picnic in Forsyth Park, we weren’t very hungry for supper. So Declan started on a salad, and I called Bianca. She was happy to let me talk with her daughter, but Colette only said that Mrs. Black had sometimes done card tricks when the class got rowdy. It had grabbed their attention, and all year they’d tried to figure out how she did it. As a kind of going-away present, on the last day of school, she’d shown them how she could always guess the cards they picked.

  “It was something about how she handed them to us. I don’t remember now,” she said.

  I thanked her and rang off. So much for Ginnie killing off Orla. Honestly, I’d never thought of her as much of a suspect anyway.

  Neither of us ate much salad. Mungo, on the other hand, had made short work of his supper of canned salmon, green peas, and wild rice. He eyed my movements as I packed the rest of the salad and his leftovers into refrigerator dishes. Other than one more sliver of salmon, I ignored his silent pleas. Declan rinsed plates and put them in the dishwasher, and I got out the leftover Pinot Grigio from the fridge.

  Neither of us had wanted a drink with dinner, and now we looked at each other. The plan had been to spend the evening after supper curled together on the futon up in the loft, watching a movie. Normally, that would have involved wine.

  “None for me,” Declan said when he saw the bottle in my hand.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Returning the bottle, I said, “Tonight I feel—I don’t know . . . itchy.”

  He nodded. “Like on the inside of your brain.”

  I pointed at him. “Exactly! I take it you feel the same.”

  “Me and Connell both.”

  “Uh-oh. That can’t be good. I figured my problem is that we’re fairly sure who killed Orla, but we can’t do anything about it.” Furiously, I gave the sink a quick scrub.

  “That’s bothering me, too,” Declan said. “Maybe we need to figure out an action plan.”

  “Like what?” I said, dropping the sponge in its holder. “Quinn would die laughing if I added a supernatural ‘Voice’ to my hypnosis theory.”

  “But Finn and Fern might not. They might know exactly what John is.” He held his arms out to me.

  I folded into his embrace. “You know, they just might. But John is the head of the family.”

  Declan stepped back and held me by the shoulders. “You think she’d be okay with him killing her mother?”

  “Of course not. But she might not believe he did it. Sometimes it’s hard to convince someone they’ve been duped, you know? They’ll keep making excuses rather than admit they were wrong in the first place, especially if they have a vested interest in not accepting the truth.”

  “A vested interest like a ten-year-old daughter?”

  “Or a way of life.”

  “But Finn doesn’t have that investment. Neither does his wife.”

  I nodded and took his hand. Leading him out to the living room, I said, “You’re right. Maybe they will help. Will you go with me tomorrow to talk with them?”

  “Of course, my sweet. Now, can we go watch our movie?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I do feel better having a game plan.”

  Chapter 20

  We went upstairs. I got out the comfy blanket
to snuggle under, while Declan fed the DVD into the player. I opened the window to let in fresh air, then went down and changed into yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and a pair of Declan’s thick cotton socks.

  Back in the loft, I rolled my eyes when I saw he’d selected Jaws for our viewing pleasure. “I don’t know why we don’t just stream something.”

  “Because then you’d be able to veto this movie,” he said. “This way, you have to watch it with me because I rented the DVD.”

  Shaking my head, I settled down with him on the futon. The opening credits started to roll, and I stood back up. “How about some popcorn?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, standing as well. “I’ll help.”

  Ten minutes later we were back upstairs, popcorn in hand, movie rolling again. Five minutes later, I was back on my feet. “How about hot chocolate?”

  “Sounds great,” he said, and came down to the kitchen to help make it.

  “Now, listen,” I said when we were both back upstairs with our steaming mugs and popcorn-greased fingers. “We are going to settle down and watch a movie. There’s nothing we can do about John Black tonight.”

  “Right,” he said decisively.

  And we did manage to watch some of the movie. Once in a while one of us would get up and look out the window or gaze down into the darkened living room, but for the most part we stuck with the plan. Until the scene where the giant shark tried to chomp the boat in half. Right then was when Declan paused the movie.

  “Thank heavens,” I said, heaving a sigh. “This is nerve-racking.”

  “Did you hear something?” he asked, going to look down toward the front door again.

  “Over that dun dun dun dun on the TV? No.”