Witch Raising Situation (Witch of Mintwood Book 5)

by Addison Creek

“You okay?” I asked.

  “Loud,” he said.

  “What’s loud?” Charlie asked.

  “The construction,” said Liam, gratefully accepting the coffee and taking a deep breath.

  “Have you met Miss Violetta yet?” I asked.

  “No, she’s coming in from New York today,” he said. “She’s mostly been communicating via email and such. She keeps checking in with me to see if I’m okay.”

  “What did you tell her?” I said.

  “That she owes me a lot of free haircuts,” he said.

  “Why do you think she’s doing the construction in the winter?” Charlie asked.

  Liam shook his head. “That’s the mystery of it, isn’t it? Why is she in such a blazing rush to get to little old Mintwood? I have no idea.”

  Charlie bit her lower lip, clearly delighted with that vague answer. A problem to solve and then write about was her bread and butter.

  “You think it’ll be good for business?” I wondered.

  Liam shrugged. “What I do know is that having the space empty wasn’t good for business. First, there was no other store to draw customers to my neck of Main Street so they could find out that my establishment was better. Second, the space was in such poor condition that I think it kind of turned some potential customers off as they walked past.”

  “Maybe it’ll be a good thing, then,” I said.

  “The construction is almost too much, even so,” said Liam. “My merchandise is so covered in dust all the time that no one wants to buy anything. I spent an hour this morning cleaning, just so the store would be fit to open.” He put his head in his hands, and Greer reached out and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. Liam looked up, bit his lip, and shook his head.

  As we were leaving the café after a good gossip session, Mrs. Barnett waved me over. She leaned heavily on the counter and put her face so close to mine that I smelled jam. She had obviously been working hard all morning, as usual.

  “Don’t tell your reporter friend this, and I wouldn’t say this to just anyone, but between you and me, it’s been one of my most cherished and dearly held dreams that some generous soul would open up a hair salon in this town,” she whispered

  She glanced from left to right, but we were safely out of earshot of the other customers.

  “You don’t want to cut people’s hair?” I whispered, shocked.

  “Not even a little bit! I’m hoping this Miss Violetta woman is good. I’m hoping she’s really good. I’ll enjoy playing the dejected former hairdresser.”

  “But secretly you’ll be loving it?” I clarified.

  As sunlight streamed into her little coffee shop, making her croissants look ever more golden, Mrs. Barnett’s voice lowered even further. Her eyes filled with hope, she whispered, “They better not drive her out of town! You have to help keep her around. I can’t handle the haircuts anymore!”

  It was a sad fact of our small town that we just didn’t have a proper hairdresser. As my housemates had discussed at dinner, there were a few about twenty minutes away, but many of the residents of Mintwood just didn’t want to make that trip.

  Mrs. Barnett was hoping that the tiny change of merely walking across the street wouldn’t be too much for the people whose hair she had been cutting for years. If she hadn’t looked so serious about it I would have laughed. Greer had long suspected that Mrs. Barnett hated cutting hair, but she had never let on as much to a soul until now. Now she was admitting it to me, and I had to hope that this Miss Violetta lived up to the hype. Not just for Mrs. Barnett’s sake, but for my own as well.

  Still, try as I might, all I could think about was my upcoming date.

  “Look at this place!” Liam held his hands up, looking frustrated.

  We were standing in the middle of the Twinkle, and Liam hadn’t been lying when he said the place was covered in dust. The left wall as you faced inward was the one adjacent to the new salon, and the banging next door was clearly audible through the wall. Small clouds of dust puffed slowly onto the clothes in time to the hammering.

  “It’s been going on for weeks,” said Liam. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like to not have a headache.”

  “I don’t see how the place is going to be able to open tomorrow,” said Charlie. “It sounds like they still have a lot of work to do.”

  “She better get you a big bouquet of flowers,” I mused, glancing around at the mess. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen her yet.”

  “It is rather strange,” said Liam, chewing his lower lip. “I really can’t figure it out.”

  “Keep us posted on what happens over the next few days,” said Charlie.

  “Oh, believe me, I will,” said Liam. “If we had decent cell phone service in this town I’d have been sending you updates galore. Anyway, I keep going on about myself, but how are you three?”

  “I’m good,” Greer shrugged. “Staying busy and all that. Bar life.”

  “Have you had to break up any fights lately?” Liam’s eyes got brighter at the very thought.

  “At least one a shift,” Greer said, rolling her eyes.

  “What about you, Charlie?” Liam said.

  “I’d be good if we’d known about this salon business.” She gave the wall a dirty look, as if it was the building’s own fault.

  “I’m sure no one else got the scoop before you,” said Liam soothingly.

  “Certainly not,” Charlie huffed, as if she couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  “Nothing in the Caedmon Chronicle?” I asked.

  “Hansen doesn’t care about a hair salon in Mintwood,” she said. “Besides, he’s been busy with the septic tank issue.”

  “Fascinating,” said Liam, pretending to be interested.

  “Everyone’s mad at everyone,” said Charlie. “They don’t have enough room in their paper for all the drama.”

  “And what about you, Lemmi?” Liam asked, completing his survey of the three of us. “My mom’s been spending more time with your Aunt Harriet, and she seems happy about it. But Harriet’s out of town this week?”

  I nodded. It was true that Gerry had been hanging out with Harriet, because she had finally gathered up the nerve to admit to me that she was witch, something her loving son didn’t know. She was so nervous about telling me that Harriet had had to make her do it, but she’d seemed very relieved afterwards, as if getting it out in the open had taken a weight off her mind.

  “Yeah, Harriet’s been out of town this week,” I said, “but I’m good otherwise. The usual.”

  “How’s the pet sitting business?” Liam asked.

  “Splendid,” I muttered.

  Charlie put her hand over her mouth to cover her snicker.

  “What?” Liam asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m just about done taking care of the Ivy cats,” I said. “Ms. Ivy’s been gone for the whole winter, but she just got back to town so I’m winding down on that one. But now I’m taking care of Mr. John’s dog.”

  Liam’s mouth fell open and his hand went to his heart.

  “No way,” he whispered dramatically. “I didn’t think he’d ever let anyone take care of that dog. I also didn’t think he’d ever talk to you for long enough to ask if you’d dog sit. How did he do it? Carrier pigeon?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so either,” I said, “but he had to go out of town on some emergency. He offered to pay me double. I said he didn’t have to pay me double, and he said if he did I’d have more incentive not to screw up. I told him I’ve never screwed up before, and he informed me that there was a first time for everything.”

  “Wow,” said Liam. “I’m impressed that he spoke to you at all. Can’t expect him to be nice on top of that.”

  “Of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes. “The dog is all right, though, except that he’s kind of particular.”

  “Just like his owner,” said Liam. “You know who I’ve heard Mr. John is best friends with?”

  “Oh, we alre
ady know,” Greer grinned. “He’s best friends with Wolf Senior, which is definitely part of why Lemmi is terrified.”

  “It is not,” I groaned. “The dog is good. I just have to go to the cats’ place first, because if I see Cesar before I see the cats they won’t come near me, whereas Cesar thinks the cats are going to play with him.”

  “He must be thinking of different cats,” said Greer.

  The banging started up again and Liam winced.

  “We should get going,” Charlie yelled over the racket.

  My friends had to get to work and I had to check on Mr. John’s dog, so we left Liam to his fate.

  Mr. John wanted me to show up at his place three times a day and stay as long as I possibly could each time. He had stopped by the farmhouse to leave me a key, and that was the first time I had actually met him. He was often seen around town, but he rarely deigned to talk to anyone. Cesar was much friendlier, but only when Mr. John was preoccupied for a moment; then the dog would sneak in a lick or a tail wag. Otherwise he kept to himself, just like his owner, whom he adored above all other creatures, human or not.

  As I walked to the Beetle I thought back over Mr. John’s visit to the farmhouse. I had heard a car drive up, but I figured it was just the mail coming a bit early, so I stayed in the breakfast nook skimming the morning papers and enjoying a croissant and coffee. When I heard a yelling and banging at the door, I knew it wasn’t the mail.

  I peered through the side curtain, the noise having drawn Charlie from getting ready for work and awakened Greer, who came angrily stumping down the stairs to see what was happening.

  “Good morning,” I said, opening the front door after a squint through the curtain and telling myself that maybe my visitor was just lost.

  Mr. John always wore a large-brimmed hat and carried an old cane, and this occasion was no exception. Either he had one pair of jeans he wore every day, or he owned several pairs of the exact same jeans and rotated them. I hoped it was the latter, but I couldn’t be sure; his pants always looked the same to me. Different stories went around town about what had happened to his leg to cause his limp. Popular theories were a war injury or a mountain lion, but no one knew for sure. The only person in town he seemed to like was Mrs. Snicks, the librarian. He borrowed books from her regularly, and always with a smile on his face. Rumor had it he had also liked my grandmother, but judging by the look he was giving me now I found that hard to believe.

  “I need you to take care of Cesar,” he growled.

  I knew the dog’s name, but he had never introduced us, so I said, “Who?”

  “Cesar!” the man barked. He nearly turned around and stumped back down the porch steps out of sheer exasperation.

  “Your dog?” I prompted him.

  “Of course my dog,” he said. “I’ll pay you double. I have to go out of town for a few days, a week at most. He can’t come with me, poor fellow doesn’t like the car.”

  “Makes some animals queasy,” I murmured, trying to be sympathetic. It wasn’t Cesar’s fault that he was owned by a tyrant.

  “Cesar does get queasy,” said Mr. John, “so I can’t take him on car trips. But I think he’ll do okay with you,” he added grudgingly.

  “I haven’t even said I’d look after him,” I pointed out.

  The man’s eyes bulged. “Won’t look after him?” he blustered. “Of course you’ll look after him! That’s what you’re here for! Isn’t that your job, or do I have the wrong house?” The old man looked around as if he were lost.

  I gave a long sigh. Behind me I could hear a scuffle, and I wondered if it was Greer stopping Charlie from writing this conversation down or Charlie stopping Greer from coming out and yelling at him for how he was speaking to me.

  “Only for a few days?” I clarified.

  “I’ve said already that I’ll pay you double. Three times a day. There’s a list of instructions on the fridge. Just do a good job. I’m not happy about having to leave him in your care, but I don’t have much choice.”

  “Most people who employ my services are happy that their pets are so well taken care of.”

  “Most people are silly,” the man said gruffly. “Here’s the house key.”

  I took it.

  “And just you go there. I know you bring your friends around everywhere, but I won’t have strangers in my house. You’re bad enough.”

  “You know you and I are strangers, right?” I said.

  “Must be done,” he said, sounding resigned, as if he was lancing a boil.

  “Nice to meet you,” I told him as he stomped away.

  “Poppycock!” he cried after me.

  I shook my head at the memory. He had insisted that I start looking after his dog the next day, and that I wasn’t to go over too early in the morning because Cesar liked to sleep in. But then I was supposed to go over two more times every day.

  Sure, because why not. He was paying me double, and it had been a couple of weeks since anyone in Mintwood had gone out of town.

  Mr. John’s ramshackle old house looked like it hadn’t been taken care of in decades. On my first visit, though, I found the inside very tidy, with nothing cluttering the fridge except the to-do list for the beloved pup. The house was very small, but I was surprised at how nice everything was. There were even a few well-worn antique pieces that looked like they were worth a lot of money.

  “Hi Cesar,” I greeted the little white dog, who raced over to me with his tail wagging in delight. The directions Mr. John had left mentioned a silver dog bowl, which sat on the counter along with some fancy-looking dog food. With every fiber of my being I wanted to look inside the fridge, but I resisted. That would be nosy, unless the list told me to do it. I couldn’t invade a client’s privacy like that no matter how much I wanted to.

  Despite the appearance of the house from the outside, I wasn’t surprised that Mr. John’s place was orderly on the inside. I figured the nice furniture had been handed down from his parents and not chosen by Mr. John himself, but clearly he had taken good care of it.

  “Luckily, I’ll be coming back a lot,” I said to Cesar, who wagged his tail. At least he was happy about it.

  I went home and practiced some spells, then went out again to do some errands and visit Cesar again. When I finally headed home again it was later than I would have liked, because I wanted to get going on making dinner. Greer had spent the day with Deacon, so I knew she wouldn’t be around to cook. My two roommates and I had fallen into a routine about cooking. Greer did it whenever possible, and if she couldn’t, I tried my best to “happen” to have time, so Charlie was never the default chef.

  It was a good system. Unfortunately, after checking up on Cesar so many times during the day, on this occasion I was too late.

  My heart sank as I drove up and saw that Charlie’s Volvo was already in the driveway. I pelted out of the car hoping I could still head her off, but my mind was also filled with Cesar and the hair salon opening and my date with Jasper Wolf on Friday night. I wondered what he would say about his grandfather at this point, but my whirling thoughts were interrupted by a classic greeting from Paws.

  “You’re late!” he cried gleefully.

  My only reply was a dirty look.

  The lawn looked like it always did in the evening. The tea ladies, including Karen, were sitting around a small table pretending to sip tea while they gossiped. Mr. Bone was relaxing on one end of the porch while he whittled something I couldn’t make out, while Tank was hopping in and out of the grass, as far away from Paws as he could get and still be in the yard. Meanwhile, the birds and mice dashed around so fast that I just caught glimpses and flashes of them as they ran one way and disappeared another.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, hoping Paws wouldn’t know what I was in such a rush about.

  “Charlie’s already been in the kitchen for almost half an hour,” he said smugly. His eyes shone, his shoulders were straight, and his teeth were bared. In short, he was in ecstasy.
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  “Why exactly are you so happy about that fact?” I demanded as I reached the porch.

  There was no point in rushing now. Greer and I were already doomed to a burnt dinner. Maybe I could at least do the salad, and we’d have one edible thing.

  “It amuses me to see you suffer?” Paws offered.

  “Very sweet of you. Say it one more time and I’ll take away the crate,” I threatened as I marched into the house.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” gasped the cat.

  “You’d be surprised what a hungry person is willing to do to a pile of wood,” I called over my shoulder.

  “When are we going to get a case?” he yelled after me.

  The longer we went without one, the more he’d been pestering me, until it was such a common refrain that I could almost ignore it.

  Almost.

  As soon as I walked in I smelled . . . I wasn’t sure what.

  Charlie was in the kitchen wearing a gray apron that was the picture of sophistication. Her blond hair was pulled back and her cheeks were red. When she saw me she waved, then disappeared to the other side of the counter to turn down the blaring pop music.

  “How was work?” I asked.

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “I called Miss Violetta three times today. Her voicemail is full, but she has a ridiculous message. I’m not sure about her. I think I might write a piece for the paper about how Mrs. Barnett is being forced out of business, maybe just write it and have it ready should Lena want something like that.”

  I sat quietly. Discouraging Charlie now would only tip my friend off to the fact that I knew something she didn’t. Specifically, that Mrs. Barnett hated cutting hair, and that the last thing she wanted was for Miss Violetta to be run out of town.

  “How was Mr. John’s?” Charlie asked.

  “Nice,” I said. “Do you know anyone who goes over there?”

  “I think I once heard that Mr. Wolf’s car was seen around, but that was a long time ago,” said Charlie. “Andy said something about it, in fact.”

  Andy was Charlie’s ex-boyfriend. They had been living together when he broke up with her, which was how she had ended up at the farmhouse with Greer and me. Andy had moved on quickly, and his new girlfriend now lived with him in the apartment he had once shared with Charlie. Charlie hadn’t met the her replacement yet, but that didn’t stop her from hating the woman.