I spent a few minutes, checking out my email. It was a good day when I didn’t have many mails to answer. This was a good day. Before I knew it, I was yawning and heading for bed. As I sank into the bed, encased in darkness, I told myself that something flying across the moon was nothing, nothing at all. Yet, I looked out the window at the moon, as if trying to spot that flying thing again. I needn’t have bothered. In seconds, a dark, dark cloud rolled across the moon, and whatever light had been reflected into my bedroom was now gone.
Good.
I fell asleep quickly.
It was dark when I woke, but not as dark as it should have been. Even in that nether world between sleep and wakefulness, I knew that something wasn’t quite right. As I slipped out of bed, my feet told me that the temperature had changed—drastically. A cold wave had arrived during the night, a very cold wave. I shuffled to the window and looked out.
I had reached a point where I was rarely really surprised. Oh, a new smoothie concoction would be a pleasant surprise, and a successful coven effort would be a nice surprise, but a genuine surprise was rare. The brightness of the sun off the new-fallen snow was almost a jaw-dropping surprise. In Georgia, it simply didn’t happen, not like this.
The snow lay thick on the ground and bushes and trees for as far as I could see. This was no dusting, as we sometimes had in the winter. This was a blanket, the sort of snow people in Minnesota or Wisconsin would see. In fact, this snow was so different that I knew it wasn’t natural. Well, it was natural—and magical. The locals might call it an anomaly. I called it a spell. And I guessed there was a single source of the spell—Genevive. Only a water witch would be able to bring about such a snow. The problem was I had no idea why she would cast such a spell. We didn’t need snow, not even a dusting. As I readied myself for work, I wondered if Genevive would contact me or Tessa or Mara. Because I was certain Tessa and Mara would figure out the source of the snow.
I didn’t have to pedal as I slipped and slid down the hill to main street. In a way, the trip was a rush. And it might have been dangerous had the snow not been so thick. While I kept moving, at least I didn't careen out of control. As I parked my snowy-wheeled bike, I looked around for David’s motorcycle. It wasn’t in his usual space, and my guess was the snow had slowed him more than a little. I slipped into the shop and started my prep. Today would be a heavy-on-the-coffee day. While it wasn’t terribly cold, it was cold enough for snow. Bracing smoothies that would warm the soul were in order. I had just unlocked the front door when David arrived. His motorcycle had gathered more snow than my bike. He trudged in with snow all over his leather jacket.
“What is going on?” David demanded as he started his routine. “I get within five miles of this place, and suddenly, there’s half a foot of snow. What’s up with that? It’s as if some cloud dumped a load here and then stopped. I had a devil of a time getting through it. The tires simply didn’t want to grab.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I said. “But there’s no accounting for the weather.”
“You got that right.”
David continued to grouse as I whipped up a batch of extra hot coffee, cinnamon, chili powder, alfalfa, and flax seed smoothies, the special for this morning. The denizens of Goodsprings weren’t used to snow and cold.
The door opened, and Genevive entered, her face twisted with doubt and chagrin. She didn’t need a smoothie. I walked around the counter and went out the back door with her. We stood in the brilliant glare of the sun on the snow.
“I’m so sorry,” Genevive said. “I was practicing a rain spell, something I found online. And well, I guess I got part of it wrong. Because this is what happened.”
“No harm done,” I said. “You simply have to do a canceling spell. You’ll probably find it where you found the rain spell.”
“That’s just it. I looked already, and I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t even find the original rain spell!”
“Relax. Take a deep breath. Go to school, and after that, sit down at your computer and retrace your steps. I’m betting your browser history kept track of where you were. Just go back to that site. Okay?”
Her face relaxed, and I could tell she was feeling a little better. “I didn’t think of that. But it makes sense. I’ll do it right after school.”
“That’s my girl,” I said. “Now, get going. It will take longer in this...mistake.”
She giggled and left, waving as she went, slipping because she was not accustomed to walking in snow. I returned to the counter, where David was selling the morning special as fast as he could pour. I always told people smoothies were not just for hot, summer days. This morning proved me right.
David and I worked hard during the crush, exchanging amazed exclamations with most of the customers. They had never seen anything like this, and they felt the need to comment. It was the way of the world. No one remarked about the ordinary days. They remarked about the extraordinary days, the days that they would tell their children and grandchildren about. Human memory was a funny thing sometimes.
Just before lunch, Phineas arrived, with Chuckles in the bag, not on Phineas’ shoulder. That spoke volumes about the cold outside. I guessed the snow had already begun to melt, as the sun was bright.
“Your special looks awfully tempting,” Phineas said. “But I should probably stick with the wheatgrass. You know, a creature of habit.”
“I do know,” I said. “And if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to become accustomed to this sort of snowfall.”
“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said. “Nature made a simple mistake. I’m certain nature will correct itself immediately.”
There was something about Phineas that seemed just a hair off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was like the fortune teller who seemed to know just a bit more than she was willing to divulge. Or maybe, it was just like what my mother did when I was girl. One look, and I knew she knew about my latest misstep. Parents were like that. As Phineas sat at the back table, the patio being under snow, I wondered if he had children who found him cryptic.
During the lulls between the rushes, I went to the window to see how the townspeople were taking the snow. I was not surprised to see them making snowmen on the sidewalks, little, white creatures that melted quickly in the sun. The street was down to pavement due to the traffic, and I guessed by evening, the sidewalks would be clear and the street dry. Getting home wouldn’t be difficult. David was happy too. A motorcycle in snow was not an easy ride.
Before Phineas left, he stopped at the counter.
“Have you heard anything about the new owner of Windermere?”
“Not a word,” I replied.
“Yes, I agree, it is curious.” With that, Phineas smiled and left before I could ask him what was so curious. I shook my head in wonderment.
Most of the snow was gone by the time David left and I had locked my doors and headed for Good Eats and Tessa. Tessa sometimes had a better line on local events, as her customers mostly ate inside her place, while mine often took their smoothies with them. She had more opportunities for chat. As I slipped into a booth, I sniffed odors almost good enough to eat. Tessa was up to something delicious, and I wanted a piece of it, a plate of it. The aromas reminded me just how hungry I was. I looked out the window as I waited, and I wondered if Genevive had found the canceling spell. For a moment, I considered helping her, but that didn’t yet make sense. She would grow bigger and better if she had to find the spell on her own. That would give her a huge boost. I wasn’t so old that I couldn’t remember the first time I corrected a mistake, the first time I had cast the exact spell I wanted. No witch was ever really validated until she had achieved what she needed to achieve. Because witches were people; witches made mistakes too.
Tessa arrived with a plate of her five-star goodness and a glass of beer. I sniffed the food while she sat. I could see Allie behind the counter, reading a textbook, since there wasn’t a customer to wait on. I didn’t count.
“You know who caused this mess,” she said.
“Of course,” I answered. “And I’m sure she’s already managed to fix it.”
“I hope so. I wasn’t ready to move to my winter menu. Luckily, I had some ingredients that made the difference.”
“Trust me, I completely understand.” I took a bite of what looked like stew. “Fabulous,” I managed to get out.
“Thanks,” Tessa said as a cup of coffee was delivered to her. “Now, what did you hear about the man who bought Windermere?”
I shook my head. “Nada. No one seems to know anything. Although, Phineas hinted that it would come as a surprise.”
“Just what we need, another surprise. Like the snow isn’t enough. You know, we made the national news.”
“News?” I was eating fast, which limited my answers.
“When a snow is limited to a particular location...in Georgia...the news agencies pick up on it. The talking heads of national weather blame climate change.”
I wanted to laugh, but my mouth was full. I supposed “climate change” sounded a lot better than “witch’s miscast spell”.
“I did hear one tidbit,” Tessa said. “Our mysterious new occupant of Windermere came from Europe. At least, that’s what sleepy Joe said. And he helped move in some of the furniture, which arrived in crates.”
“I thought Windermere came furnished,” I mumbled.
“It did, but who doesn’t want to add a few personal items? I suppose we’ll know all about him in time. Then, the gossips will have to find something else to talk to death.”
If my mouth hadn’t been full, I might have mentioned Ethan Gallagher, one of Goodsprings’ two detectives. The other being Ada Gallagher, Ethan’s twin. For some time, the gossips had been flapping their gums about Ethan and Tessa. While they might have feelings for each other, I knew they had agreed to let those feelings lie fallow for a while. Tessa had the grill and a daughter to contend with, and Ethan cared for a sick father in Florida when there wasn’t a crime to solve.
Tessa finished her coffee, which she always drank piping hot, natch, and left me to finish my meal in joyful silence. After a day of greetings and musings about the strange snow, silence was a welcome friend at times. And I still had to ride my bike home.
As I left the grill, I could see that Tessa had already closed down the kitchen and was working through the end-of-day routine. I waved, and she waved, and I was out the door. A clear night greeted me, not a dark, snow cloud in sight. I was hopeful that Genevive had found her spell. The air was crisp but not cold, the way it was supposed to be. The crickets and frogs were quiet.
Since the ride was automatic, my mind drifted to Windermere and the mystery man who had bought it. One gossip had said that it was some high-tech billionaire who had tired of Silicon Valley. Another person allowed that he was royalty from Europe who had been chased out of his home country. A third opinion was that he came from a South American drug cartel and was laundering crime money in little, old Goodsprings. I supposed they were all wrong. And it didn’t bother me not to know for sure.
Before I went to bed, I checked the night sky yet one more time.
No clouds.
I slept well.
Chapter 3
One day of snow was tolerable. Two days seemed a bit much. But a fresh snowfall greeted me when I woke. I looked out the window at a repeat of the day before, the same even blanket of snow. I knew I would have to talk to Genevive. A nightly snowfall couldn’t be blamed on climate change forever, especially when it was confined to the geographic area of Goodsprings. Someone was going to figure out the truth, and when that happened. Well, my family had deep roots in Goodsprings, as did some of the other witches in town. No one wanted to move.
The ride down to Happy Blendings was worse than the day before. Mainly because there were spots where ice had formed under the snow. My tires slipped, and I fell twice. The snow and some quick thinking kept me from anything worse than some bruises—which a bit of witch magic could heal—but my jeans were wet. I was in a foul mood as I walked my bike the last hundred yards. I hope Genevive wasn’t waiting for me. I was in the mood to yell. I parked my bike by David’s Jeep and slipped inside. My anger melted when I smelled cocoa and coffee together.
“You know,” David said when he saw me. “I was about to ride my bike again today. I mean, there is no snow where I live.”
“It is a very strange weather pattern,” I said. “What smells so good?”
“Well, since it’s getting colder, I thought some chocolate, coffee, black tea, and peaches were in order. But that’s not the daily David special.” He produced a glass of something so dark, it looked blacker than black. “I call this tar pit.”
“The name is appropriate.” I sniffed the tar pit. There was definitely coffee and pepper and blackberries and sassafras tea and perhaps a splash of cranberry juice, although the color had disappeared. I tasted the brew, and while it wasn’t bad, it was something that I could never stand for long. Half a glass would be plenty, as far as I was concerned. “Not bad,” I said as I handed back the drink. “But it’s not something I could drink all day.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “it’s too rich. I guess, it would do for a sometimes drink. Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
I opted for coffee and a handful of strawberries that were still fresh due to some simple magic. Cream and a spoonful of lemon juice finished the blend. A few sips of that and I was ready to go. I was hoping Genevive would walk in. She didn’t. I had a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t want to talk to me.
“It hasn’t snowed for two consecutive days in Goodsprings since eighteen eighty-two,” Phineas announced as he walked to the counter. “I'm always amazed by oddities, human or otherwise. Perhaps, you have an odd smoothie to match this odd day.”
“I’m afraid our special is not half as odd as the weather,” I said. “But it will put a fire in your belly, so the cold won’t seem so bad.”
“That sounds tempting, but at my age, temptation should be avoided, I think. Wheatgrass for Chuckles and me.” At the sound of his name, Chuckles stuck his head out of Phineas’ bag and warbled. I had the feeling that Chuckles wasn’t a fan of the cold either.
There was a bit more grumbling this morning. While the freak snow had been mildly pleasant the day before, it was now moving toward nuisance stage. When I glanced out the window, I didn’t see so many snowmen on the sidewalks, not the occasional mom or dad pulling a child on a sled. The novelty of the snow was wearing off. I, for one, didn't wish for the snow to become habitual—for many reasons.
Before lunch, I dragged David outside, where we built snowmen and snow women out of the melting snow. It seemed such an anomaly. Warm sunshine on white snow. Still, the snow-people looked clever and friendly.
Mara arrived at the end of the lunch rush. She carried a large basket that she placed on the table before she waved at me. I came over, and she flashed a smile.
“What’s in the basket?” I asked.
“I was thinking of paying a visit to our mysterious new owner of Windermere. So, I loaded up the basket with homemade bread and jams and freshly ground coffee. You know a friendly overture.”
“Sounds great. And I’m guessing you want company.”
“After what happened to me last time, yes, I want all the support I can get.”
“In that case, let’s rope in Tessa. She has some time before the dinner hour, and she’s the person you want to back you up. She’s fearless.”
Mara waited while I told David about our mercy visit. He grinned and made me promise to give him a report when I got back. After all, Windermere Manor was a local wonder. Any information about the new owner would be welcome throughout the county.
Tessa was cursing her stove when Mara and I entered. I had heard Tessa curse many times, and generally at some inanimate object that didn’t obey her wishes. Stoves seemed particularly persnickety. Tessa’s eyes weren’t embers yet, but there was defi
nitely a tinge of red in them.
“You need to get out of here,” I said.
“I do?” Tessa asked.
“We’re going on a mission of friendship,” Mara said.
“And you’re driving,” I added.
That made Tessa laugh. All was well. And she could leave since Allie had just arrived from school. Allie wasn’t the cook Tessa was, but she could serve what had already been prepared. I noticed right away that Allie was torn between wanting to go with us and wanting to be by herself. Teenagers. I was so glad I was past that ordeal.
Tessa’s Jeep made the snow fly as we headed out of town. Windermere Lake was on the outskirts, and the Manor was on the far side. And like the rest of Goodsprings, the lake was surrounded by snow.
“Slow down,” I said. “We want to get there in one piece.”
“Snow is made for fast driving,” Tessa said. “Besides, it’s a four-wheel drive.”
I threw up my hands.
“Mara,” Tessa said, so she could ignore me. “Is this about the black magic?”
“Y...yes,” Mara said tentatively. “I know I’m cured, but well, that was a bad time for me.”
“We get that,” I said. “And I think we owe it to ourselves and the new owner to make sure the black magic is gone. If it’s powerful enough to affect an adult witch, imagine what it might do to a civilian.”
A Drop in the Potion Page 2
