by Ashlyn Chase
“Did you know she’s in financial trouble?”
Ethan looked over Dru’s shoulder as if pondering something. “It hadn’t occurred to me until she used that spell last night. I just figured she wanted to increase her profits. I didn’t know she was floundering.”
“I don’t know if I should be tellin’ you this or not, so don’t go spreadin’ the news, okay?”
“Why not? The coven would be happy to help. Some members stay away from sugar. I think Myranda’s diabetic, but she could probably send plenty of business your way. We all could.”
“If you can do it without Rebecca findin’ out I said anything, then great. If you blab that I told you, she’ll probably can me, and she can’t afford to.”
Ethan seemed to understand. He reached for his wallet and peeled off a five dollar bill. “Tell her I insisted on paying.”
“That’s mighty kind of ya, Ethan.”
He put his wallet away. “You probably don’t have to worry. She did a spell for customers. Who knows how the Goddess will choose to send them, but she will.”
Dru lowered his voice. “Do you really believe in that magic stuff?”
Ethan’s brows rose. “You don’t? What are you doing in a coven if you don’t believe in magic? Are you even Wiccan?”
“I—um…” Uh-oh. I should be careful what I say. Obviously, he believes. Dru scratched his head. “I haven’t been doin’ this very long. And this is my first time in a coven. I guess I still have questions.”
Ethan nodded. “Of course. I remember being new and wondering if my spells would work. Usually, it took a while before I realized they had.”
“Does magic work all the time?”
“If you do it right, yes. As they say, be careful what you wish for—and how you phrase it. The Goddess can interpret what you say literally, even if you mean it figuratively.”
“So, last night…Rebecca wished for customers.” He glanced around. “Where are they?”
“Give it a little more time. Some spells take up to a month to be answered.”
“I guess the Goddess’s voice mail must get full.”
Ethan laughed. “Who knows why? It just seems to work out that way. Maybe she has to arrange some behind-the-scenes action for it to happen. Maybe Rebecca will decide to advertise. Or maybe she’ll get a really good online review. Just know that she asked for customers, and they’ll show up.”
“I see.”
“Maybe you should take a few classes from Myranda and Yvonne at their shop.”
“They give power classes for doubting witches?”
Ethan grinned. “They’ll be sure you get what you need.”
I need to find Shasta. Maybe they can teach me how to cast a spell—or a net—to find her.
Not that Dru truly believed in magic, but he’d seen Hanna exercise a power that defied physics. Could’ve been a trick of the eye, or smoke and mirrors, but Ethan believed in magic. So did Rebecca and his sister. They were normal intelligent people. Heck, there were plenty of things he didn’t understand, but that didn’t make them any less real.
Dru considered himself open-minded, but he’d never had occasion to truly test that theory and prove it to himself. This certainly qualified as that occasion.
Ethan finished his breakfast, rose and wiped his mouth on the tiny napkin provided. “Good to see you again.” Then he grabbed another one from the napkin holder and wiped his hands. A sly smile crossed his face. “By the way, if that lip lock I witnessed this morning is any indication, I’d say last night’s love spell is already working.”
“Huh? But Rebecca didn’t ask for love, and I wasn’t in the circle.”
Ethan chuckled. “Oh, yes you were.”
Mrs. Reese saw April returning from the day care program and followed her to her bedroom. From the look on April’s face, it didn’t go well.
“April, may I come in?”
“Uh, sure.” She glanced around. “I guess there are no roommates to consult at the moment.”
“I know. They’re out looking for jobs.”
April sighed. “I wish I could get a job. That adult day care program just isn’t for me.”
“What was it like?”
“Mostly people talking about their messed up families, dead-end jobs, feelings of hopelessness. Some of them even attempted suicide. Nothing I could relate to at all.”
“Maybe you should give it a chance. It was only one day. Talking about your feelings might really help.”
“All I feel is confused. I shared that today, and no one could relate. They kept digging, trying to come up with something I might remember. I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen a book or read a movie.”
Mrs. Reese smiled.
“Seen a book…Read a movie. See what I mean about being confused?” April slapped herself upside the head and laughed.
“Well, you have a good sense of humor about it.”
“I think I was the only person at the day care who did. I really don’t want to go back there. I can’t even do arts and crafts. That’s one thing I discovered about myself today.”
“You’re not an artist?”
“Nope. I’m sure not. My ceramic vase looks like an ashtray.”
She chuckled.
“By the way, my hair is looking really skunky with the dark color growing out. I felt really self-conscious. It looks like I’m actually a blonde. Is there any way I could dye it? I’ll pay you back for the hair dye as soon as I get some money.”
She parted the girl’s long raven locks and saw what might have been a golden wheat color. “Do you want to go back to your natural blonde or stay with the dark brunette?”
“I guess I’d like to get as close to my natural color as I can. It will be easier to maintain, and maybe someone will recognize me. I can’t imagine I’d have dyed it this color my whole life.”
“Good thinking. But to tell you the truth, getting blonde to cover black would be impossible. Why don’t I send you to my hairdresser?”
“Seriously? I couldn’t—”
“I insist.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reese.” She threw her arms around her. “You’re ‘bout the only friend I have.”
Oh, dear. How sad is that? Mrs. Reese broke another rule and gave the girl a hug. If her memory returned, she was going to need a good friend.
Two days later, Rebecca stared at her case of fresh baked goods and wondered why no one was buying. Other than the woman who came in and asked for the cupcake recipe and Ethan, she’d had only three moms who came in for coffee and free cookies for themselves and their kids the day before yesterday, and yesterday three college age students each bought a cupcake. She’d made a whopping six dollars yesterday and six-seventy-five the day before. She glanced at the clock. It was after eleven a.m.
Dru said he’d be back before noon to hand out samples. He’d gone off to show Shasta’s picture around the local shops and look for leads since there was no point in him standing around doing nothing.
Rebecca returned to the kitchen and turned on the radio. Sometimes music lifted her spirits, but today it wasn’t working. She raised her hands to the ceiling. “Why, Goddess? Why aren’t you helping me?” she wailed.
“Because you keep givin’ away the store,” Dru said, from the doorway. “I notice there are only two free cookies left.”
She whirled around as he ambled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.
“Don’t hit me, Rebecca. I’m just tryin’ to help.”
She sighed. “I know. I don’t understand why my spell didn’t work.”
“Ethan tells me it can take up to a month for your wish to be granted. Sometimes the goddess has some business to do behind the scenes. I’m sure everything will turn out right.”
“That’s true. I’ll try to be patient.”
“Being patient is tough. Nobody from the stores recognized Shasta’s picture, and I’m feelin’ plenty frustrated. I’m ready to help you out, though. Let me go drum up some business. May
be that’s part of the goddess’s big plan for you. What did you make for samples?”
“I have some fresh strawberry turnovers.” She handed him a plate. “I made these mini-sized, so they can be cut into bite size pieces just by slicing them in half.”
“But the ones in the case are full-sized?”
“Yes.”
He started slicing and arranging the samples on a tray that was already lined with wax paper. “How much are they goin’ for, if somebody asks?”
“Two twenty-five.”
Dru popped half of a tiny turnover in his mouth and chewed with his eyes closed and murmured, “Mmm…”
Rebecca loved it when he did that.
“You can get more for these, easy. Two seventy-five each and you could offer six for fifteen dollars.”
She shrugged. “I could try that.” She’d vowed to listen to him to get the customer’s point of view. All final decisions were up to her, of course. “For now, let’s compromise and try them at two fifty. I’ll adjust the prices in the case.”
“Okey dokey. I’ll take these out to the streets. How far do you reckon people will walk to buy more?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. How far are you willing to walk to give them out?”
“To the moon and back, for you darlin’. To the moon and back.” He winked and took the goodies out to—wherever.
Rebecca watched him walk away. More accurately, she watched his firm ass move in those slim fit jeans. “Oh, my goddess. If you sent him to me on a temporary basis, I don’t know whether to thank you or ask for a do-over.”
Dru patted his pocket to be sure he had the picture of Shasta with him. As soon as he saw some people he could approach with his sample tray, he pasted on a big smile.
“Howdy, y’all. Would you like to try a delicious strawberry turnover from The Bewitching Bakery? They’re magically delicious.”
Two young professionals chuckled and said, “Sure.” The couple chewed the sample size pasties and made appreciative noises.
Dru took advantage of the moment while their mouths were full and fished Shasta’s picture out of his pocket.
“This is my sister, Shasta. Have either of you seen her?”
They took a good look at the photo, then shook their heads. The male asked, “Why are you looking for her?”
“She’s been missin’ for a couple months. We think she might be stayin’ around here.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I hope nothing’s happened to her.”
He lowered his gaze. “Same here.” Then he perked up. “If you see her, send her to the bakery, would ya? Tell her that Dru’s workin’ there.”
They agreed to do that and as they walked away, the woman pivoted. “I hope you find her.”
“Thank you, kindly, ma’am.” He almost tipped his cowboy hat until he remembered he wasn’t wearing it. He’d worn one for so long its presence seemed like that phantom limb syndrome he’d heard of. It felt like the hat was perched on his head, even though it wasn’t.
The next woman he approached with the samples abstained, citing she had a gluten allergy. Dru didn’t know what gluten was, but he’d mention it to Rebecca. He was sure she’d know and might even know what to do about it. He showed the woman Shasta’s picture, anyway. She said she hadn’t seen her either.
This went on for the entire lunch hour. He didn’t notice people altering their paths toward the bakery, but he hoped they’d check it out after work or on the weekend.
He was almost out of samples and about to pack it in when a man who may have been homeless approached him. The individual was dirty and unshaven. Dru doubted he’d be spending money at a bakery, and he probably wouldn’t be running with Shasta’s crowd, so he turned around and started to leave.
“Hey, don’t I get one?” the guy said.
“Do you buy baked goods?”
“I might. You never know.”
Dru waffled a moment. From what he’d read in books, Geminis were prone to those pesky moments of indecision because of their dual natures. He should probably be kind to the man, but he didn’t like the looks of him.
His hesitation apparently irritated the guy. He glared. “What? Aren’t I good enough to eat a free sample?”
Dru reluctantly held out the tray. The guy frowned but took one of the last samples and downed it. Then he grabbed the picture of Shasta.
Dru was about to snatch it back when the guys’ eyes narrowed. “I think I’ve seen her.”
Suddenly Drew realized a homeless person who spent all day on the streets might be more likely to have seen her than folks who spent all day in an office. Hope kicked his awareness up a notch.
“Where? What do you remember?” He was all but tripping over himself, trying to uncover some kind of clue.
“I’m not sure it was her. The girl’s hair was a different color, but it looked dyed, ‘cause it was growing out.”
“What color is it now?”
The man eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with her?”
“She’s my sister, Shasta.”
“Like the tonic?”
“The what? What do you mean, tonic?”
The guy chuckled. “Sorry. I guess that’s a New England thing. I guess you call it soda.”
Dru was still puzzled for a second. Then in dawned on him. “Oh. Soda pop. Shasta soda. Yeah. Her name is spelled the same way.”
“Your parents named her after a soft drink?”
“No. It’s a kind of daisy. It’s an Indian name too.”
“Are you part Indian?”
“Not that I know of.” Dru was getting frustrated. He tried to hold it in since this could be the only lead he’d get. “What can you tell me about the girl you saw?”
“Her hair was black. Other than that, the picture kind of looks like her.”
“Kind of or does?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe I shouldn’t even be talking to you. What if she doesn’t want to be found? Don’t cross-examine me.” The guy turned around and stomped off.
Dru thought about following him, trying to get more information, but something told him the guy might be mentally unstable. Pushing him was probably a bad idea.
It had never occurred to Dru that his sister might not want to be found. Could she have changed her appearance to throw him off?
Hell no. Shasta would never put me through that. For a split second, he considered the possibility, and rage reared its ugly head. Then he calmed himself and looked at it logically. She had no reason to do that. If someone in Austin had upset her, she’d probably run home to him. Not the other way.
He popped the last pastry in his mouth, tucked Shasta’s picture back in his pocket, and returned to the Bewitching Bakery with a lot on his mind.
Mrs. Reese had made a hair appointment for April and picked her up on her day off. April wished she could repay the woman’s kindness and vowed that someday she would.
The salon was in North Hampton, and Mrs. Reese said she liked taking the scenic route so she drove down Route 1A next to the ocean. The view was breathtaking.
“Do you live near the beach?” April asked.
“Not within walking distance. We’re about five miles away.”
“I love the ocean. Maybe I live near the beach and don’t even know it.”
“Maybe. Does anything about it seem familiar to you?”
April frowned. “Not really. Nothin’ does.”
After a short silence, Mrs. Reese asked, “What do you like about the beach?”
“I don’t know. I guess I like watchin’ the boats and the seagulls. I like the salty air too…well, except at low tide.”
They exchanged knowing smiles.
“How about you?” April asked.
“I like how it’s always changing,” Mrs. Reese said. “Some days you walk along the sand and find tons of shells, seaweed and driftwood, especially after a storm. Then the next day it’s back to normal. It’s as if an etch-a-sketch erases the day bef
ore and gives you new things to look at with each new tide. It never gets boring.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.”
They grew quiet again. April’s mind wandered, as it often did, to what her real life might be like. She felt as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole when she stepped off that bus. Sometimes she still felt like she was wandering around in Wonderland. Why hadn’t anyone come looking for her? And why could she remember a story she’d obviously read at one time, but none of the details about her life today?
The police had said they’d keep an eye out for missing person’s reports and let Mrs. Reese know if any of them might pertain to her. So far, they hadn’t heard anything. That didn’t mean they weren’t doing their job—or that they were and sadly no one was missing her. She really needed to get down to the police station and take a look through the reports herself—if she could get there on her own. She didn’t want to impose on her case worker’s kindness and she certainly wouldn’t be getting on a bus anytime soon.
Mrs. Reese drove up to a salon called Tranquility Day Spa and parked in the small gravel parking lot. “Here we are.”
“I hope I remembered to thank you for doing this, Mrs. Reese.”
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Only about a dozen times.”
At this point, the least April could do was to be polite and appreciative.
“I think you’ll like my stylist. She’s upbeat and the music is too. Sometimes she dances to it as she waits for hair color to process.”
They tromped up the stairs and entered the bright lilac and silver salon. Two women were sitting in a couple of the hair chairs, chatting. Another stylist was working on a client.
Mrs. Reese approached the desk and another woman April hadn’t noticed before looked up.
“Hi, Danielle,” the receptionist said. She swiveled toward the two women who’d been sitting and chatting. “Hey, Lana. Your ten o’clock is here.”
The woman with bright red hair who must have been Lana hopped up out of the chair and strode over to them. “Hi. Is this the girl you told me about, Danielle?”
