by Megan Berry
“Hold up,” said the woman who’d given her the first casserole. “This won’t do! The poor girl can’t carry all of our casseroles herself,” she explained to the group like they were a bunch of children.
Harper let out a little sigh of relief. She’d just been worrying about the same thing.
“Go on, pick up your casseroles,” the woman snapped her fingers and the other two darted up to retrieve them once more. “Alright,” the woman approved. “Now, where is your kitchen darlin’?” she asked, like she had no idea, but then she pushed past Harper and made her own way to the kitchen. Her following shuffled quickly past Harper and trailed after their ring leader into the kitchen, leaving Harper blinking in surprise at the front door.
Harper shut the door and followed the crowd into Gran’s kitchen, her kitchen now, she reminded herself. Her countertop was completely covered in casserole dishes, pie plates, and fresh baskets of buns. There was even a fully cooked ham and a chocolate cake. Harper’s mouth watered as she looked at it all.
“I see Susie Mills was here already,” the woman said, arching her eyebrows as she motioned towards the pie.
“Susan?” Harper asked, nodding, she hadn’t gotten a last name. “She was here about ten minutes ago.”
The tall woman with the short pixie cut, white-blond hair, and icy blue eyes snapped her fingers with a laugh. “Darn, I thought we would be the first,” she gave a small laugh that didn’t actually make it sound like she was joking. Harper shook her head helplessly, not sure how to respond to the twenty or so people milling around the kitchen.
“Okay people,” the mystery woman snapped her fingers again and every eye in the room returned to her, all conversations stilling. “We are clearly overwhelming this poor girl, we should make our goodbyes,” she told them. Like a pack of lemmings, everyone in the room shuffled back out, nodding to Harper and murmuring their goodbyes. The woman with the white-blond hair stood with her arms crossed in satisfaction, watching everyone leave.
“I’m Vivian Martins, by the way,” the woman said, pulling a business card out of her pocket and handing it to Harper. “Give me a call if you ever need anything,” she said with a wink, and then she too was gone.
Harper stared after them before going to make sure the front door was shut. It was wide open, and there was a lone young woman walking up the steps. Harper was nearly ready to put a no trespassing sign up. The young woman looked up and gave Harper a bright smile.
“Hi. You must be Harper,” she said, stating the obvious, and Harper nodded.
“I am…” The young woman pressed a pan into her hand that looked like a cobbler of some sort.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Mallory Conrad,” she paused and looked down at her hands before seeming to firm up her resolve, and she looked back up at Harper. “I worked at the shop with your gran. She was a great lady.” Harper watched a tear trickle down Mallory’s cheek and felt one of her own, dangerously close to the surface.
“Yes, the shop,” Harper said to distract her frazzled emotions. “I had no idea she even had an… apothecary.”
Mallory chuckled at her words.
“Your gran was a free spirit, that’s for sure. She just woke up one day and decided she wanted to try it. She was already doing all of the work from home by that point.”
Harper smiled to hear a memory of her gran. “You sound like you spent a lot of time with her,” Harper replied, feeling a small tug of envy when the other woman nodded.
“I’ve worked there since day one. I was seventeen at the time, but she took me on as her apprentice anyway—said I had a gift. I’ve worked there the last ten years and it’s been a wonderful experience.” Mallory took a deep breath. “That shop is my life, which is why…I’ve come to ask you what’s going to happen to it,” she blushed, and Harper felt very put on the spot.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t really had a chance to think about it yet,” Harper replied honestly with a bit of a wince. She hadn’t realized there was more than just her own well-being riding on this decision.
Mallory took a deep breath. “To make a proper decision, you should really familiarize yourself with the business…would you be interested in a tour?” she asked in a nervous rush, and Harper paused.
Doubt began to creep onto Mallory’s face. “I’m sorry…how thoughtless of me. Of course you would want time to adjust,” she shuffled her feet uncomfortably.
“Actually,” Harper said, giving the other woman a ghost of a smile. “A distraction is exactly what I need right now.”
Mallory beamed at her, and Harper really felt like she’d made the best decision. “Would you like to come in for a minute? I just have to put this in the fridge,” she said, motioning to the cobbler in her hands, and Mallory nodded.
Both women stopped short when they walked into the kitchen and were confronted by the mountain of food gracing the counter top. “I think you have more than just my cobbler to put away,” Mallory said with a chuckle, going over to the fridge with the ease of someone who was familiar with the house.
She paused, hand on the door, and looked at Harper. “Do you mind if I give you a hand?” she remembered to ask, and Harper shook her head.
“Of course not. I would actually appreciate the help,” she said, liking the other woman instinctively. There was something calming about Mallory. “I have to warn you though, there are some pretty weird ingredients in there.” Harper remembered just as Mallory opened the door and stood there taking in all the containers.
“These could probably go back to the store if you’d like?” she asked permission, even as she began pulling container after container out and stacked them on the counter. “Your gran liked to bring her work home with her…though I expect it will be a while yet before you will feel the same,” she said with a chuckle.
Harper nodded her head, wondering what was being made in the apothecary that needed the nasty sounding ingredients. She picked up one container in particular that listed the ingredient as eye of newt and held it up to Mallory. “Is this for real?” she asked, and Mallory nodded, her red curls bouncing.
“I’m afraid it is,” she admitted, making Harper set it gingerly back down with a grimace.
“I think you have enough room now,” Mallory announced, stepping back to admire the bare shelves.
“I can see why I couldn’t find anything to eat this morning,” she told the other woman with a small smile; her gran was a little eccentric. Everything in the fridge had been ingredients from the store. “I’m glad I didn’t try to cook anything!”
The two women slid the fridge and freeze full of casseroles until it was close to bursting. “There’s another freezer in the basement if you get any more,” Mallory told her, and Harper remembered the possum and gave a small shudder. She would have to face it eventually—but that would probably not be today!
“Ready to get going?” Mallory asked, pulling Harper’s attention away from the possum issue.
Harper nodded, stopping to reach in the bag and grab the large set of keys as she slipped her coat on and headed out after Mallory. “Are you okay riding in my car?” Mallory asked, and Harper nodded.
Mallory’s car was a nice yellow compact that kind of reminded Harper of a big sunflower on wheels.
“It isn’t very far,” Mallory assured her as they took off down Main Street. Lots of people stopped to wave and then stare at Harper, until Harper began to feel like a bug underneath a magnifying glass. “Small town living,” Mallory shrugged, noticing her companion’s discomfort.
“I’m really not that interesting,” Harper said, feeling a need to fill the silence, and Mallory shot her a sideways glance.
“You never know. You just might be more interesting than you think,” she told her with a secret smile. Harper looked back at the other woman. That was kind of a strange thing to say, but before Harper could ask her what she’d meant by it, Mallory interrupted her thoughts. “Look, we’re here.”
Harper star
ed out at the perfectly quaint little shop on Main Street. It was a cutesy little novelty shop with crystals, pendulums, odd plants, and dried herbs hung upside down on display…and a framed picture of Elvis that didn’t really fit with the rest of the theme.
“Gran sure loved her some Elvis,” Harper couldn’t help remarking, making Mallory grin.
“He’s kind of like the mascot for the store,” she agreed with a chuckle. ”There’s actually a small Elvis section where we sell small bits of memorabilia to the tourists,” she confided, and Harper’s eyes widened.
“Well, Gran swears he once stopped in at the local burger joint and she ate lunch with him…” Harper reminisced with a sigh, and Mallory nodded—obviously she had heard that story a few hundred times as well.
“Ready?” Mallory asked when Harper just sat staring at the door like it was the entrance to the devil’s chamber.
“Not really,” Harper admitted. “But we might as well do it anyway.”
Chapter Three
The store was pretty much what Harper imaged an apothecary would look like. Glass shelves lined the walls, displaying roots, herbs, and small glass vials filled with ingredients, potions, and salves. Rainbows danced across the walls from the multitude of crystals that hung in every window. There was a faint smell of lemon and eucalyptus in the air. At the back was a three-sided glass counter with an old-fashioned cash register perched proudly on top. A revolving jewelry stand sat on one side of the till, filled with beaded necklaces, feathered earrings, charmed bracelets made of stones and leather, and to the left of the cash register was the Elvis memorabilia display. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but somehow seemed right—it was so Gran.
“Wow,” Harper murmured, and Mallory beamed at her.
“It’s something special, isn’t it?” she said proudly, and Harper could only nod dumbfounded. The place was obviously a tourist trap, and Harper had to wonder if her gran had actually turned a profit selling funky rocks and fake love potions.
“We do all of our work in the back,” Mallory said, stepping behind the counter and taking her own set of keys out of her pocket. She opened a door that Harper hadn’t noticed at first. “Come on,” Mallory motioned when Harper looked on uncertainly. “This is where the magic happens,” Harper snickered at the MTV Cribs reference and liked Mallory even more.
She stepped through the door and froze. If the front was a tourist trap, then the back was something out of Dr. Frankenstein’s lab. Glass beakers of every size, Bunsen burners, eye droppers, and a wide array of glass vials filled with who knew what—sat prominently in the middle of the floor. To her left, against the wall, was a large industrial stainless steel fridge and freezer. Harper shuddered, imagining the creepy things her gran had kept in there.
A bubbling drew her attention to the far wall, and Harper stopped to examine a large stone gargoyle head with a yawning mouth that jutted from the wall and seemed to be spitting water down into a stone basin pool on the floor. It kind of reminded Harper of a fountain, but she’d never seen one inside like this before. The very back of the store was stacked haphazardly with cardboard boxes.
Mallory saw Harper looking and waved her hands at the jumble. “That’s our storage corner, we don’t have a lot of room to work back here.” Harper looked around in confusion. What was it exactly that they worked on?
“Over here is the greenhouse,” Mallory continued, oblivious to Harper’s confusion. “We grow a lot of our own ingredients—it makes them more potent.” Harper walked through a door and found herself in a veritable jungle of overgrowth. The air was heavy and moist, and the sun beamed down overhead, making her prickle with warmth. She instantly fell in love with this room.
“I’ve never seen a greenhouse quite like this,” Harper commented, and it was true. Most greenhouses held staunch rows of vegetation, perfectly organized for maximum growing space, but this one was wild and free and appealed to her soul on a level that Harper didn’t exactly understand.
“You like it,” Mallory said, and it wasn’t a question. “This was your gran’s favorite place to cast her spells and enchant her charms. She said it relaxed her, brought her to another level of awakening.”
Harper stared at Mallory like she’d grown an extra head.
Mallory caught the look and winced. “Shit,” she muttered, causing Harper to give her a questioning look.
Harper stared at the other woman’s growing agitation. She was hiding something. “What is it?” Harper demanded as Mallory tried to back pedal.
“N…nothing,” Mallory said and shrugged, her best efforts to look casual going quickly awry.
“Out with it,” Harper pressed, feeling annoyed about being kept in the dark about something that obviously affected her. Harper frowned at the other woman, and Mallory began to crack under the pressure.
“It isn’t my place to tell you—I’d probably just screw it up...”
“Fine,” Harper snapped, turning her back on the other woman and making her way to the door, intent on leaving.
“You’re a witch!” the other woman yelled out, and Harper spun around, her face darkening. How had they resorted to name calling so quickly?
“Excuse me?” Harper demanded, planting her hands on her hips. “What did you just call me?”
The other woman stepped back at the look of fury on her face. “A witch,” Mallory repeated, obviously miserable.
“I don’t think the situation had to resort to name calling,” Harper pointed out, and her eyes narrowed to slits.
Confusion settled across Mallory’s face for a moment before her eyebrows rose up into her hair. “No!” she gasped, wringing her hands. “I would never…” Mallory stopped and brushed a red curl off of her damp forehead. The greenhouse was the hottest place in the whole shop, and this confrontation was only making it worse!
“You have special powers, you can cast spells. I meant you’re a witch like magic—never as an insult!” Mallory said in a rush.
Harper froze, her mind reeling. This woman was crazy. She felt a sharp stab of disappointment, and all the fight went out of her. She’d come to like Mallory quite a bit in the last hour they’d known each other. It was a shame.
“Just never mind,” Harper said quietly as she turned and fled the building. Mallory didn’t even try to stop her—the poor woman was too mortified over what she’d just done. Keaton, and the rest of the council, was going to have her head for this! New paranormal creatures needed to be slowly and carefully introduced to the magical world, and she’d really bungled things. With a sigh of despair, Mallory pulled her phone from her pocket and began to dial.
“Keaton, it’s Mallory—we have a problem…”
Harper raced home, ducking down the first alleyway she came across and taking the long way back. She didn’t want to run into any more townspeople right now. They were nice, and well-meaning, but they stared at her like she was the latest exhibit at the local museum. They tried to bury her in an avalanche of pies and other baked goods, and at least one of them could hug so tightly she probably needed a spinal adjustment—it was too much! Harper felt like she was just one more hug or pie away from having a major breakdown.
The hot Alabama sun beat down on top of her unmercifully, and an unladylike sweat broke out across her back as she finally emerged from an alley and jogged the last block to the house. The house was waiting for her, the same as it had always looked, and so was Mr. Bell. He was stretched out on the front porch swing, swinging gently like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Miss. Jones,” he said with a friendly smile as he looked up and saw her walking up the path towards him. Harper paused, no more in the mood for company than she had been twenty minutes ago, but it was too late now. It would be rude to run out on her gran’s estate lawyer. Mr. Bell uncurled himself from the swing, making the wood groan under his weight, and Harper barely suppressed a wince.
“Mr. Bell. Nice to see you again,” Harper fibbed as she walked up the steps to meet him with a h
andshake. Mr. Bell seemed to be studying her closely, and it had the effect of making her feel like a bug under a microscope.
“Are you feeling alright?” he asked out of the blue, and Harper nodded automatically.
“As well as can be expected,” she told him as she reached up to pat at her hair. Did she really look so bad that Mr. Bell thought she had taken ill?
“I am glad to hear it,” he said, letting a smile crease his serious face. “It seems you had some deliveries while you were out,” he continued, motioning to an array of casseroles and baked goods that had been left on the front porch in her absence.
Harper goggled at everything as Mr. Bell reached down to pluck a cardboard box of donuts that were obviously not homemade, from the pile. “These are from me,” he looked awkwardly down at the slightly squished box and gave her a crooked smile. “I don’t cook.”
Harper felt a real smile tug at her lips. “They’re perfect,” she told him, “Thanks.” She took the donuts under her arm, pretending she didn’t see the smear of jam that nearly obscured the view into the box.
Mr. Bell nodded, looking far less serious than the last time she’d met with him. “Oh…did you happen to get a chance to look through that stack of stuff I sent home with you?” Mr. Bell hesitated before asking casually, and Harper shook her head. She had nearly forgotten all about it between the rogue possum last night, the group of people this morning, and now the blow out at the apothecary…
“Sorry, no. I hope it wasn’t time sensitive?” she asked, and Mr. Bell shook his head.
“I didn’t mean to rush you—take your time—and just remember that it’s best to remain calm,” he paused and gave her an assessing look. “I just want you to know that I am in the loop about…everything, so please don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions. I’m sure you will have many,” he said mysteriously as he shuffled off the porch, leaving Harper’s curiosity sufficiently peaked.
Harper carried everything in off the porch so it wouldn’t spoil before curiosity got the better of her, and she lugged the bag out from underneath the kitchen table and sat down to spread the contents out before her.
