"I don't mean to pry," I said, "but why were you bothering to turn statues into humans when it appears that you already have a woman staying with you?"
He gave me a blank look. "There's no one staying with me except Libby.”
I gestured to the bathroom. "You have a woman's robe in your bathroom. And a second toothbrush."
He appeared momentarily confused. "Those belong to my wife."
I tilted my head. “You said she died seven years ago.”
"That's right," he replied. "And I keep everything as it was the day she died. She still has her half of the closet, too. And her reading glasses on the bedside table." He smiled vaguely. "There’s an unfinished crossword that I occasionally itch to complete. I can't bear the thought of it being finished, though, so I leave it.”
A lump formed in my throat. It took a lot to make me cry, but I could easily have succumbed to tears in that moment. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand to keep my emotions in check.
"Montague, do you mean to tell me that you left your wife’s belongings exactly as they were for the last seven years?" The deputy looked aghast.
"What do you expect me to do?" he asked. "Throw them all away? Erase her memory forever? What kind of husband would I be if I did such a thing?"
Libby crawled the rest of the way out from under the sofa and stared at me with her big green eyes. Her loneliness was palpable.
"What about your familiar?" I asked. “Libby belonged to your wife. Don’t you have one of your own?"
"My familiar died three years ago. Feline leukemia. It's been Libby and me ever since. She never liked me much, though. My wife and I could never understand it."
I glanced at the calico cat. "Have you considered rehoming her?" I wasn't sure what the protocol was for orphaned familiars. Was it the same as rehoming a regular cat?
"I don't think Libby would thrive in another house," he said. "She's lived in this bungalow most of her life."
I reached down to let the cat sniff my hand. Although I wasn't a cat person like Marley, they didn't tend to hate me.
"Do you think your wife would be happy to know that Libby was lonely?" I asked. "That you were lonely? Surely she would've wanted you both to let go and find new sources of happiness." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I pictured Marley’s wagging finger in my face. I could say the same to you.
Montague looked down at the cat, as though seeing her for the first time. "I make sure to feed her and give her water. Even a bowl of milk on Christmas, like my wife used to do. She's cared for."
"But she isn't loved, Montague," I said. "Not the way she deserves to be. The same goes for you. How is getting drunk and practicing magic going to help you climb out of this hole?" I didn't want to imagine how long it had been going on. Seven years of this… I dreaded the thought.
I ran my hand down Libby's soft back. Montague was right about one thing—she was well cared for. Her coat was still healthy and shiny. If I believed that PP3 could handle another major change in his life, I would have offered to bring her home with me.
"Montague, if I can find a good home for Libby, would you consider letting her go?" I asked.
He dug his fingers into his silver beard. "I'll have to think about it."
I nodded, understanding. "Okay, if I find someone, I'll let you know and you can decide then." I felt a sudden pang of longing for Miss Kowalski, my former neighbor. It occurred to me that not only would she adopt Libby in a heartbeat, she’d also be good company for Montague. Too bad New Jersey was so far away.
"Thanks for your time," Deputy Bolan said. "And if you’re interested, I do have a list of meetings that you might want to consider attending. They’re a great way to get yourself out of the house and meet people."
Montague nodded absently. He looked so forlorn, standing in the middle of the living room in his robe. "I'll think about it," was all he said.
Deputy Bolan and I left the bungalow together. We walked back to the car without a snarky word, a first for the two of us.
"He's not our guy," I said, breaking the silence.
The deputy gave his head a sad shake. "No, he certainly isn't."
I pulled in front of Palmetto House and lingered in my new sports car, a gift from Florian that I named Sylvia.
“Mom, can we go in?”
I held up a finger. The last refrain of Madonna’s Borderline was blasting from the speakers.
“Mom,” Marley huffed. “You can hear it again on the way home if you want. Let’s go in. I want to see my cousins.”
I turned off the engine. “Fine. I’ll remember this the next time you want to finish a page in your book before coming to dinner or brushing your teeth for bed.”
Marley suddenly seemed to realize she’d acted against her best interest. “It is a good song.”
“Nope. Too late. Let’s go in.”
We climbed the dual staircase out front and met at the front door. Marley beat me by two strides.
“Your legs get longer every day,” I said. “You’re going to be tall like your father.”
“How tall was Daddy?” she asked.
“Six foot four,” I replied, and opened the door without knocking. The front door of the inn was usually unlocked thanks to the coming and going of its guests.
“Perfect timing,” Linnea said. My cousin was in the main living space of the inn, adding fresh flowers to a vase. “We’re all downstairs. Fair warning, though. Wyatt’s here.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Why?”
“He’s upset about Granger and wanted to see the kids, so Bryn invited him to stay for dinner.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
Marley and I followed Linnea to their living quarters on the lower level. Sure enough, Wyatt was playing catch with Hudson in the middle of the room.
“Wyatt Nash, please stop throwing a ball in the house this instant,” Linnea yelled, her hands glued to her hips. No one seemed to rile my cousin like her ex-husband. It was a gift.
Wyatt chuckled and dropped the ball to the floor. “Sorry, I forget about all your rules.”
“My rules,” Linnea scoffed. “You mean the ones like don’t have relationships with other women during the marriage? Those rules?”
Wyatt groaned. “Here we go. Can’t we just have a nice family dinner without the nagging and arguing?”
Linnea’s nostrils flared and her fingers twitched. I had the feeling she was about to hex his furry werewolf butt.
“Linnea, can I help you in the kitchen?” I interjected.
“Mom, leave it to the experts,” Marley said.
I fixed her with a hard stare. “Thanks for your support, daughter.”
“That would be great, Ember. Thanks.” Linnea gathered her wits and headed to the kitchen, leaving Wyatt to tackle Hudson to the floor in what was likely an illegal wrestling move.
Once we were safely ensconced in the kitchen, Linnea retrieved her starter wand from a nearby drawer.
“Feel like practicing?” she asked.
“Oh, your mother didn’t tell you?” I whipped out my new wand and showed her.
Linnea admired the silver sheen. “Very pretty. Did Mother approve?”
“In her vague way.” I gripped the wand and steadied my breathing, letting the magical energy flow from my body to the wand.
“I wasn’t sure whether she would let you start on wandwork yet.”
“I think Marigold spoke to her,” I said. “She knows I’m getting itchy feet.” I wiggled the wand. “Or fingers.”
“It’s understandable. You have a lot of power flowing through those veins of yours. It needs a release.”
“Should I try and prepare food?” I asked.
Linnea considered the suggestion. “Maybe stick with setting the table for now. Food takes more skill, especially when you’re serving it to six people.”
“Fair enough. So do you want the good china?”
Linnea shook her head. “Not when Wyat
t’s here. Too many meals have ended with a dish getting thrown across the room.” She hesitated. “After the children have gone to bed, of course.”
I focused my will on the wand. “Napkin dreams and cutlery wishes/bring out six serving dishes.”
Linnea and I watched in silence as the drawers and doors of the hutch opened and the requested items drifted to the table.
“Nice work,” Linnea said. “You’re a natural.”
I tried not to react to the word ‘natural,’ especially when I knew she intended it as a compliment. Now wasn’t the time to share my fear over my possible connection to the nightmare curse.
“Of course, she’s a natural. She’s a Rose,” Bryn said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. I noticed Marley hovering behind her. “Can Marley and I play Scrabble?”
“After dinner,” Linnea said. “We’re going to eat shortly.”
The girls wore matching crestfallen expressions as they retreated to the living room.
“It’s so great that Marley has an older cousin with similar interests,” I said. “I hated that she had no one back in New Jersey. Her best friend was Miss Kowalski, the older woman who babysat her after school.”
“It’s great for Bryn, too,” Linnea said. “She and Hudson seem to argue nonstop. Having Marley here is an instant buffer.”
“Wyatt seems to be a buffer, too,” I said.
Linnea’s pretty face soured. “Yes, but his presence creates a whole new set of arguments.” She pressed her fingertips against the oven door and closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making a pot roast.”
“But there wasn’t anything in the oven,” I said.
“There is now,” Linnea said with a smile.
“Ooh. Can you add those little white potatoes?” I asked. “I love them.”
Linnea touched the oven door again and muttered something under her breath. “Wyatt loves those, too.” She clapped her hands and a bottle of wine appeared on the counter in front of her. “Pinot noir?”
“Sure.”
“Yum, something smells delicious.” Wyatt strode into the kitchen, wearing a lopsided grin that reminded me of his brother. I pushed the image of the sheriff’s limp lupine body from my mind.
“Pot roast is ready,” Linnea said.
Wyatt’s brow lifted. “You trying to butter me up? You know that’s my favorite.”
“You’re upset about Granger. I want to cheer you up.” Linnea poured a glass of wine and handed it to Wyatt.
“You maybe wanna use a bigger glass for me?” Wyatt asked. He handed me the stemmed wine glass. “I’ll have it in a pint glass with ice.”
Linnea cringed. “Of course you will.” She plucked a pint glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice before pouring the wine. “Stay classy, Wyatt.”
“Sorry,” Wyatt said, slurping his wine. “We can’t all be as fancy as the Rose-Muldoons.”
“I’m still working on it,” I admitted. “I’m pretty sure it’s out of my wheelhouse.”
“Nonsense,” Linnea said. “You fit right in.”
Wyatt snickered. “Really? Miss Mafia Princess fits right in with the hoity-toity white-blond brigade?”
“I’m not a mafia princess,” I said hotly. The mere suggestion of being associated with the mafia sent shivers up my spine. The whole reason I was in Starry Hollow was because of a crazed mobster.
“Wyatt, I’m tolerating your presence here tonight because of your brother,” Linnea said. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Wyatt set his pint glass on the counter. “You’re right, babe. I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of pent-up frustration and nowhere to focus it. I wish the moon was full.”
“You can’t turn if there’s no full moon?” I asked.
“I can, but there are requirements on off nights,” he said. “A bunch of bureaucratic minotaur shit. Our movements are more restricted.”
“So you’d rather get drunk and find some willing bimbo to take home instead,” Linnea said. “In other words, Tuesday.”
“Ha ha,” Wyatt drawled. “I obviously didn’t marry you for your sense of humor.”
“Because you have none,” Linnea shot back.
Hudson entered the kitchen, a pained expression on his face. “Mom, I’m starving. Can we please eat?”
Wyatt grabbed the boy around the shoulders and squeezed. “You heard your growing werewolf son. He demands sustenance.”
“I do,” Hudson said weakly. “I’m famished.”
“He’s wasting away as we speak,” Wyatt said, grinning.
Linnea glared at him before removing the pot roast from the oven. “Get your sister and Marley, please.”
Hudson turned around and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Marley! Stink Breath! Dinnertime.” He turned back to his mother and smiled. “Done.”
Linnea snapped her fingers and the food made its way to the table. We brought our wine glasses with us.
The children seated themselves quickly, proving their claims of hunger were genuine. Linnea placed Wyatt at the opposite end of the table, as far from her as physically possible. Smart move.
“What do you think happened to the sheriff to make him a permanent wolf?” Marley asked.
“No idea,” Wyatt replied, going to town on his slice of the pot roast. With those table manners, I didn’t know how he managed to survive Sunday dinners at Thornhold for as long as he did.
“Do you think he’s happier in his wolf form?” Marley asked.
“Not Granger,” Wyatt said. “It’s not his way. He likes being the sheriff and that requires his human form more often than anything.”
“You should go and see him,” I said. “He’d probably feel better if he saw his brother.”
Wyatt fixated on his plate. “I don’t know. It’ll be hard seeing him like that.”
“But you love the wolf form,” I said. “Why is it hard?”
“Like I said, Granger’s not as much of a fan.” His expression clouded over. “I don’t wanna see my brother miserable.”
“Wyatt’s an avoider,” Linnea said. “He doesn’t like to confront situations that make him uncomfortable.” One of the many reasons our marriage failed.
At first, I thought Linnea had said that last part out loud. It took me a moment to realize I’d heard her thoughts. I chewed my pot roast, listening for more. Between Hudson’s ADHD-style thoughts and the girls’ apparent contemplation of the state of the universe while enjoying potatoes, there was too much noise to filter through, so I gave up. Wyatt’s was the only mind I couldn’t read at all, and I wondered whether it was because he shielded it or because there simply wasn’t anything there to read.
“Dinner is delicious, Linnea,” Marley said. “I love gravy.”
“As long as she can drown her food in gravy or ketchup, she’s okay,” I explained.
“Thank you, darling,” Linnea replied. “I’m glad you like it.”
Marley glanced at Wyatt, who’d cleared his plate. “If you don’t want to see your brother alone, I’ll go with you.”
Wyatt appeared taken aback. “You will? Well, that’s awfully sweet of you.”
“I like Sheriff Nash,” Marley said. “I want him to be okay. And Alec, too.”
I patted her hand on the table. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They will be.”
I hoped.
Chapter 11
Wren and I stood in a clearing in the woods, ready for my first official incantation lesson. Now that I had my cloak and starter wand, I was beginning to feel more like a true member of the coven instead of a New Jersey woman on a weird vacation.
“We’re going to start easy today,” Wren said. “Let you get comfortable with the wand. First, we’ll try a locking spell and then an unlocking spell.”
I glanced around at the live oaks. “Exactly what am I unlocking in the middle of the woods? The key to your heart?”
He clutched his chest. “Oh, Ember. I’m afraid you’ve misread me. You�
��re pretty and all, but I wouldn’t go near a Rose. Too much pressure.”
“That’s a little unfair,” I said, thinking of Alec’s similar sentiment. “What if you really liked me?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be enough to survive whatever torture your aunt would put me through.”
“But she’d be thrilled. She wants me to date a wizard.”
He pointed to himself. “Not this wizard. Besides, you’re being way too forward to make me think you’re serious.”
“Yeah. I’m messing with you. Sorry. I would never date a wizard just to please my aunt.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What about to please yourself?”
“I’m good right now, but thanks.”
“So how about we focus on this instead?” He pointed his wand at the nearest tree and said, “Ostium.”
A door appeared at the base of the enormous tree.
“That’ll do,” I said.
“So glad you approve.” He grinned. “Now, I believe you’ve already been instructed on how to focus your will.”
“I have.”
“Excellent. Then you simply point your wand at the lock, focus your will, and say obfirmo.”
“Sounds easy enough.” I cleared my throat and placed my body in the spell-casting position. “Obfirmo.”
“You don’t need to yell it,” Wren said.
“I wasn’t yelling,” I replied.
“You weren’t?” He pretended to clean out his ears. “Maybe try your inside voice.”
“But we’re outside.”
“Listen, when you’re advanced enough, you won’t even need to say it out loud.”
“My cousin said that I won’t need a wand either,” I said. “I’ll be able to snap my fingers or wiggle my pinky or something and make stuff happen.”
“That’s entirely possible given your lineage.” He inclined his head toward the door. “But first let’s master a basic spell with your starter wand.”
“Shouldn’t we unlock it now?” I asked.
“Shouldn’t you make sure you actually locked it first?” He strode toward the door and tugged on the handle. The door opened without resistance.
“Oh.” My lips straightened in disappointment. “I’ll have to try again.”
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