Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  “She is under that gruff exterior.” I fill an empty display with a few miniature gourds and small mums. “That’s the problem. She’s scared right down to her toes about it. But I don’t use magick around her and she loves the job. She’s a darn good baker, so I’m happy to have her.”

  Nonni lends a hand with the arrangement. “I like your new foreman. The cat, too.”

  Uncle Odin, Matilda, and Ruby enter the store in a blast of chilly air. Delighted, Nonni hugs each of them. “We weren’t expecting to see you today!”

  “Your candies are a hit,” I tell my cousin who is draped in her signature red cape. The color always reminds me of apples. “Hope you brought plenty more.”

  Ruby loosens the ties and shakes out her hair. It’s a softer shade than her cape and spotlights the smattering of freckles across her nose. From her wicker basket, she removes a covered container. “Been working on them at night after Enchanted closes. Zelle bought me a new candy thermometer and I’m creating different holiday varieties for Christmas with peppermint and mocha.”

  Sounds like cocoa in a piece of candy. “I want a dozen.”

  “You got it.”

  Uncle Odin kisses my cheek as she begins restocking the candy display case. He’s looking dapper today in a wool blazer with a satin vest under it. His eye patch matches the gold threads in the jacket. “How are you, dear?”

  I hug him. “Doing well, thank you. How’s the remodel going?”

  Matilda, my cousin’s godmother, fidgets and her stacked bracelets jingle. She’s embracing the Halloween spirit with skeleton earrings and a black cat pin on her orange sweater. “Would go a lot faster with a little magick.”

  Ruby admonishes her. “Cinder has plenty of help with Finn and Leo pitching in. Once the holidays are over and the rush slows down, we’ll make quicker progress.”

  Ruby and her sisters are witches, too. Their soap and candle shop is undergoing a big renovation, and Cinder and Belle’s boyfriends are helping. The gothic house that once belonged to a distant great-grandmother is getting an upgrade to expand their store. “After New Year’s, I’ll have time to pitch in. I’m pretty handy with a hammer.”

  “Speaking of…” Matilda’s dark gaze slides to the window. Outside, Broden and the kitten are making their way to the shop. “Where’d you find Romeo?”

  “Showed up at the doorstep this morning. At first, I feared he was one of Belle’s swipe-right guys, but he’s not. He helped chase Esme away.”

  “Esme was here?” Matilda narrows her eyes. “What did she want?”

  “The usual.” I shrug. “She didn’t stay long, thanks to Broden.”

  “Good for him.” Ruby sidles up to us. “Do you trust him?”

  He never asked about my stepmother or the showdown this morning. He’s proven to be a hard worker and the animals seem to adore him. “I like his cat,” I say. “And anyone who stands by me when Esme’s around gets a gold star in my book.”

  Broden enters and Uncle Odin shakes his hand. “I hear you’re the latest member of the family.”

  The Scot looks a bit taken aback. “Family…?”

  “By the way, I did an intention spell,” I tell the others. “He passed.”

  “A spell?” His heavy brows crash together under a flop of dark bangs, then they rise high. “I did? Pass, that is?”

  Nonni laughs. “Good thing.”

  I introduce him to the others. “Uncle Odin and Matilda live with my cousins, the Sherwoods, who run the Enchanted Soap and Candle Company in town. Ruby is one of the sisters and she makes excellent candy. I consider anyone who works for me to be part of the extended brood, regardless of blood connection. We all watch out for each other.”

  Matilda picks up the kitten and cuddles it under her chin. The feline seems to sense a kindred spirit and purrs. “What she really means is don’t get on her bad side because we don’t take kindly to anyone harming one of our own. ‘Where wolf’s ears are’”—she points at Runa and the hybrid steps forward—“‘wolf’s teeth are near.’”

  Runa bares her canines good-naturedly, emphasizing the old world saying. Uncle Odin jabs Broden in the ribs with an elbow and adds his own. “Kinsmen to kinsmen should be true.”

  Broden nods as if he understands, and maybe he does. Like a wise man, he makes no comment. They’ve made it clear—if he does anything to hurt me or the business, they’ll deal with him.

  It’s nice to have family. With my parents both gone, even more so.

  Although the soap and candle store is busy with the festivities and remodel, the three offer to stay and assist for a few hours. It’s greatly appreciated, and Ruby and I laugh and joke as we work. She has lots of town gossip and seems excited about a new veterinarian rumored to be moving to town to take over Dr. Frederick’s practice. Our local vet is retiring soon, he and his wife moving across the Georgia border to Florida.

  “New blood,” Ruby murmurs when she puts on her red cloak to leave. “I hear he’s young.”

  After witnessing Cinder and Belle both find true love, I can see in her eyes that she’s looking for a soulmate herself. I silently wish her well. “As long as he treats farm animals as well as pets. Percival is due for shots next month.”

  I hug each of them before they leave, assuring me they can return tomorrow if I need them.

  Outside, near the entrance to Fairytale Land, I find Broden raking up a hay bale that came loose from its twine when six-year-old Joey Larents jumped on it. The last of the shoppers are gone and he’s closed the gates. “How many do you think went through here today?”

  “Four-hundred and thirty-four.”

  He stops and leans one arm on the top of the wooden handle. “You counted? How is that possible?”

  “That I counted our visitors or that there were four-hundred and thirty-four of them?”

  A tired grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What exactly is an intention spell?”

  “Safety measure. Tells me more about you than any employment application or background check.”

  “That so?” He shakes his head, his eyes steady and warm on mine. “They warned me you were…different.”

  I’ve heard that term more than I care for. “The diners? Thought they said I was good people.”

  “Yes, they did. Also mentioned you dance to a different drummer.”

  “I dance to an entirely different band.”

  We share a laugh. Bramble hollers a goodbye to me with a wave over her shoulder. She must have finished her cleanup of the kitchen. “See you tomorrow,” I call back.

  “I’m a witch,” I tell Broden, “and best you don’t forget it.”

  “Or your family will kill me and put my body through the apple press?” Another grin.

  I offer a confirmation smile. At least he doesn’t run from my confession.

  He gives me a funny salute, his fingers hidden in work gloves. “Roger that. So the woman this morning would not be family?”

  I start up the lane, Runa next to me. Sweet Pea and Percival raise their heads out in the pasture. Korbin has long since disappeared, leaving the scarecrow looking slightly abandoned. “She’s the reason Uncle Odin and the others are so protective of me. She was my stepmother when I was a girl.”

  “Ah, family can be tough.” His muscled arm flexes as he picks up the rake and walks with us. “And your father?”

  I swallow the tightness suddenly closing my throat and look toward Magick Mama. Her silhouette reassures me, the shadows not yet to her trunk. “He passed several years ago.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  As the sinking sun spotlights the apples lying on the ground around her, I stop and sigh. I motion toward the tree. “This place was his dream, and she was one of the first things he planted. None of this would be successful”—I indicate the farm—"if it weren’t for her.”

  His gaze scans the landscape, taking in the seven acres of pumpkins, trees, and Fairytale Land. “All this grew out of one dwarf tree?”

  “N
ot just any tree.” We begin walking again, heading for the slightly dilapidated barn. It’s structurally sound or I wouldn’t house the animals in it, but it’s in need of repairs. I’m praying this year’s profits will foot the bill for a new roof. “She may be a dwarf, but she produces seven kinds of apples, all equally delicious. Best of all, I’m not getting a special type with all seven blended into one. She’s magickal and her apples are, too.”

  He smiles at the word. “Is that so? Did you father graft all those kinds on her?”

  “No grafting.” I wiggle my fingers at him. “Magick.”

  A chuckle. “Okay, then. Magick. Is that tree the real reason your stepmother wants the place?”

  “Did Ruby tell you?”

  A gloved hand rubs at his chin. A dirt mark is left behind. “Matilda.”

  No surprise there.

  “Esme believes it’s rightfully hers. It’s not.”

  “But she keeps trying to get it anyway?”

  “She’s a bulldog, but I’ll never let her have it. She attempted to poison Magick Mama once. She’s evil.”

  “Poison? Why?”

  “She believed my father, James, loved the tree and this land more than he did her. Honestly? He did. She was especially jealous of me. Dad and I were really close until she came along. I think he believed I needed a mother after mine died, and Esme played the part long enough to sink her claws into him. Then she tried to send me off to a British boarding school.”

  “Yikes. The worst, those British.” A trace of humor laces the comment. He shakes his head in mock distaste. “Any father worth his salt loves his daughter beyond compare.”

  I may be an adult now, but I miss my dad every day. My mom, too.

  “When her scheme failed, she dragged me around Georgia to perform in beauty pageants. I begged my father to stop her so he did. In retaliation, she poisoned the tree.”

  His jocularity turns sour. “Your stepmother is none too bright, is she? I’m bettin’ your father saw right through that.”

  We stop near the fence and I lean my elbows on a wooden post, watching as the kitten winds her too-skinny body among Sweet Pea and Percival. “She’s actually extremely clever. If I hadn’t witnessed her pouring gasoline on the roots and told my father, he might have assumed Magick Mama died due to natural causes.”

  “But you saved her.” He points toward the hill.

  Shadows are swiftly moving across the landscape, now creeping up her trunk. I shudder remembering the gasoline and awful way it turned her bumpy above-ground roots black. “My magick did, actually. Hers is solely for producing enchanted fruit. She couldn’t save herself. Mine runs more along the line of your garden variety type, but it was enough to rescue her.”

  “Is that so?” Leaning the rake on the fence, he sets a booted foot on the lowest rung. “You won’t scare me away talking about magick and such, y’know?”

  “Good. One of these days, you should tell me why that is.” I meet his eyes, dark now in the twilight. He’s easy to talk to, a rare breed around here. Folks tend to get uncomfortable with chats about witchcraft and magick, even though I’m a white witch and embrace harming none. “When my father confronted Esme, she turned things around on me, claiming I was the one who poisoned it because I was jealous and wanted him all to myself.”

  Percival wanders over and bleats. Broden offers him a carrot from his pocket. “James wouldn’t believe such a thing, no doubt.”

  How does he know? “By that time, I did want him all to myself, but you’re correct about him seeing through her. My father filed for divorce the next day. Unfortunately, he died in a freak tractor accident the night before it was finalized.”

  From the corner of my eye, I notice Broden’s gaze narrow. Sweet Pea comes to find out if there’s a carrot for her as well.

  “I suspect Esme had a hand in it, although the police could never prove foul play. She assumed she’d inherit this place, but my father had willed it to me. Uncle Odin left the old country to take care of me and we expanded the orchard. All the animals”—I motion at the collection now gathering in front of us—"are rescues. They’re family, too. When I came of age, Uncle Odin stayed to help Ruby and her sisters, whose parents died tragically in a car accident. Between him, Nonni, Poppi, and Matilda, we’ve all had a lot of support.”

  “It’s good to have kin you can rely on.” There’s melancholy in his tone. Percival finishes the carrot and Sweet Pea is out of luck. The sheep baas her disappointment.

  I hop the fence and head for Fairytale Land. Time to close up Cinderella’s carriage and the Three Little Pigs’ house and freshen things up for tomorrow.

  Broden follows, as do the animals, and I enjoy the nightly routine with company. The air is frosty on my cheeks and the air smells like crisp apples, fall leaves, and wood smoke.

  Broden watches carefully as I lock up the pig house, then assists me in picking up trash from the pumpkin patch. I drag the mermaid pond for the coins. “The money goes to the local wildlife rescue,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I can put the animals to bed in the barn.”

  I point toward the cottage a few feet away. “I’ll make up the guest room for you.”

  “No need. I’ll sleep in there with them.” Sweet Pea rubs her head against his leg and he gently scruffs her between the ears. “I’ll be by early for coffee and breakfast though, if you’re willing to provide some.”

  The kitten appears from behind him and stares up at me with big golden eyes. They seem almost lit from inside as the setting sun’s last rays tease across her features. “When the bantam rooster crows, come to the back door and let yourself in. Plenty of apple fritters and pumpkin bread for breakfast. No barn for you, though. Make yourself at home in the cottage. I use it for display, but it’s complete with a bed and bath. In the off season, I rent it out as an air B&B. You’ll find linens in the hall armoire.”

  “Mighty nice of you. Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

  “No imposition.” George lives in town, so I’ve never needed it for him. I say goodnight to each of the animals in turn. “Don’t forget to take the pea out from under the mattress.”

  I wink and he gets the joke, giving me a lopsided grin. “You have a nice place.”

  “So maybe you’ll want to stay a while?” Even if George returns in a week or two, I’ll have to keep him on light duty. It would be handy to have an extra hand around for the rest of the season. “I’ve got plenty of work that needs doing.”

  He shrugs. “I’ve got nowhere I need to be at the moment.”

  “No family to get to? No girlfriend or wife waiting for you?”

  He turns his face away, heading for the barn. “Don’t have any,” he says over his shoulder. “See you in the morn.”

  He bids goodnight with a wave. The animals fall into step behind him and the kitten follows, glancing back at me.

  Ah ha, I think. Secret number one.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, Friar Tuck crows and wakes me instead of Korbin. The gray and lavender semi-darkness is heavy as I swing my feet to the floor and rise.

  Runa was restless all night; hence, I slept poorly, and after all the work lately, my body is uncooperative. I groan and stretch, muscles sore and joints popping. I love this time of year and enjoy the abundance my farm brings, but right now, I’m looking forward to winter—long nights, warm fires, lots of sleep.

  A hot shower eases my tension some. Dressing, I pick up the scent of warm butter and fresh coffee and my stomach growls. Downstairs, I discover Broden at the stove with a spatula in one hand, humming a tune under his breath. The kitten laps from a bowl of cream. When she glances up at me to “meow,” droplets of milk hang on her chin.

  My new farmhand fills up a plate, setting it down in front of a chair. “A good morning to you,” he says.

  I dig in with gusto and discover he’s made the fluffiest scrambled eggs I’ve ever eaten. Melting chunks of cream cheese decorate the yellow pile, sprinkled w
ith fresh chives from the garden and capers. Perfectly browned biscuits, warm and drizzled with honey, beckon me from the center of the table. Runa whimpers and is soon served her own portion.

  “Absolutely delicious,” I manage to say around a mouthful. “Sleep all right?”

  “Eh, mostly.” He glances over and sees my frown. “Not because the place isn’t suitable—it’s quite nice. Just takes me time to adjust to a new bed is all.”

  “Did you remember to take the pea out from under the mattress?”

  A tempered smile curves his lips at my teasing. “Coffee?”

  I nod and he serves it to me in an apple cup. My breath catches at the sight. “Where did you find this?”

  The spatula points at a high cupboard. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” I touch it tenderly. “It was…my mother’s. I haven’t seen it in a while, is all.”

  “Didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll get a different one, aye?”

  Clearing my throat, I take a sip and shake my head. All the regular mugs are dirty—it’s been days since I’ve done the dishes. “How do you get these so fluffy?”

  “Can’t be tellin’ my secrets now, can I?”

  The last of the food fills his plate and he joins me. Grabbing a biscuit, he leans in, lowering his voice. “It’s water, not milk, that does the trick.”

  “Water?”

  Forking in a scoop, he nods. “It steams the eggs, if you do it right.”

  “Are you a chef in disguise?”

  He goes stiff.

  I’ve struck a nerve

  Secret number two, I think.

  Clearing his throat, his voice is soft as he replies, “Learned everything I know about cooking from my mam.”

  I’m curious, but also well acquainted with the fact curiosity often kills the cat. From the look on his face, it seems perilous to entreat him to tell me more. The raw wound from my mother’s death gives me empathy, whatever the circumstances with his own.

  We eat in silence and I clean my plate, kick back and down more coffee. “Our itinerary is similar to yesterday’s. Take care of the animals, press apples, haul pumpkins and whatnot to folks’ cars. The festival walk is this evening in downtown Story Cove. You should go.”