Spellbound Seven

by Cindy Stark

  Twenty uneventful minutes later, with her basket full, she added a carton of eggs to the mix and headed down the aisle toward the checkout stands. She clicked a button on her phone to check the clock and smiled when she realized she’d have enough time to take her groceries home instead of storing them at the teashop while she worked.

  Perfect.

  At the end of the aisle, she lifted her gaze and barely caught the flash of silver crossing her path. She swung her cart hard to the right to avoid a collision. Mrs. Tillens widened surprised eyes. Hazel opened her mouth to apologize, but the forceful turn of her cart sent it sideways into a towering display of toilet paper.

  Hazel gasped as the first package fell, and she stared dumbstruck when the rest of them toppled down, some hitting her in the head or arms, others landing in her cart and on the ground.

  Mrs. Tillens reared back, the action not disturbing one of her perfectly-coiffed silver hairs. She covered her mouth in shock. “Oh, no!”

  Hazel stared at the disaster and then looked around for any more sources of danger from the omen which was definitely not gone.

  The older woman placed a hand on her arm. “You could have been killed.”

  Hazel blinked at her outrageous statement, and then uncontrolled snickers of laughter spilled from her. As a child, she would have loved this. “Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Tillens, but I’m sure the packages aren’t as dangerous as they look.”

  Mrs. Tillens gave her a dubious look. “They look like they could break a hip to me.”

  She was sure in Mrs. Tillens’ eyes that might be a concern. “You may be right.”

  Mrs. Tillens bent and picked up one of the fifty plus packages.

  Hazel took it from her. “No, no, Mrs. Tillens. Thank you so much, but I can’t let you clean up my mess. I can manage this.”

  She gave her an uncertain look. “But I’m the one who was driving my cart like a Maserati across the store.”

  Hazel couldn’t deny that, but she’d be surprised if the woman even knew what a Maserati looked like. She patted Mrs. Tillens’ arm and gently steered her toward her shopping cart. “You had the right of way, so no worries. I’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy.”

  She paused for a moment and then nodded. “Well, if you insist. My arthritis has been acting up something awful this week.”

  “Of course. It’s no problem. Thank you for offering.”

  A request for assistance echoed from the overhead loudspeaker, and Hazel smiled at the older lady. “See? The store is already sending someone else to help me. You be on your way, and I’ll see you at the teashop later in the week.”

  Hazel was eager to create distance between herself and the older woman in case her bad omen struck again and possibly hurt someone else.

  With a serious nod, Mrs. Tillens took hold of her cart and tottered away on her thick-heeled shoes at a much more respectable speed.

  Hazel smiled and shook her head. She hoped when she got older she’d be that cute.

  She turned and began to stack the toilet paper packages back on the end cap of the shopping aisle.

  When Hazel sensed someone drawing near, she glanced up and was pleasantly surprised to find Katelyn approaching. No need to finagle a way to hunt her down later. Perhaps her luck had changed.

  Valerie’s best friend had pulled her shoulder-length blond hair back from her face with a headband. Her skin was devoid of makeup except for a few traces of black beneath her eyes, and she looked like she hadn’t slept much.

  An overwhelming wave of sadness washed over Hazel, and she had to refrain from taking a step backward.

  Hazel sent her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I tried to avoid hitting Mrs. Tillens, and I ran into your display instead.”

  Katelyn’s mouth curved into an understanding smile. “At least it’s something easy to fix.”

  Hazel gave her a grateful nod and tried to make the display look as it had earlier, but everything she stacked fell over again.

  “Don’t worry about making it look pretty. We’ll take care of that later. Let’s just get the packages off the floor.”

  She twisted her features into a sheepish look. “Thanks for being so understanding. I’m sorry I’m such a klutz.”

  Katelyn cracked a soft smile then. “We both know Mrs. Tillens drives like a maniac. At least in here, she’s less likely to hurt someone.”

  Hazel snorted and then covered her mouth. “That is true.”

  “Besides, she’s a dear lady. I love when she comes in and stays to visit.”

  Hazel lifted another package and shifted her gaze back to Katelyn. “I’m not sure if this is the appropriate time, but I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. Everyone’s loss, really. Valerie was a huge part of this community.”

  Katelyn blinked several times but managed to keep her tears at bay. “I still can’t believe it. Who would do something like that?”

  Hazel released a long sigh. “I sure wish we knew.”

  Katelyn nodded but then seemed to disappear into her own thoughts and continued to stack toilet paper packages.

  Hazel thought about holding off her questions because it was a delicate time for Katelyn, but any information that might bring about justice for Valerie was important. “I hope I’m not out of line, but I have a question for you. When I spoke with Bob Mosley yesterday about who he thought might want to hurt Valerie, he mentioned a woman named Amanda. Do you know who she is, or have you heard Valerie talk about her?”

  Color drained from Katelyn’s face, and she paused her actions. She met Hazel’s gaze with a cautious look. “There’s part of me that had hoped her name wouldn’t come up, but then I’ve wondered the same as Bob.”

  Hazel nodded, encouraging her to say more.

  Tears surfaced, and Katelyn wiped at them with desperate fingers. “I hate all this crying.”

  Hazel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and did her best to accept some of Katelyn’s pain. “I’m so sorry. Saying it must be hard would be a terrible understatement.”

  Katelyn sniffed and nodded. She met Hazel’s gaze with red-rimmed blue eyes drenched in pain. “Deep down, Valerie was a good person.”

  “I’m sure she was.”

  She hesitated for a moment as though deciding whether to keep her knowledge or share it. “We all make mistakes, Hazel, and Valerie was no different.”

  “Of course.”

  “She was a very beautiful woman, and she tried hard to make the rest of us pretty, too.”

  Hazel smiled then, thinking of all the women in Stonebridge who’d gone to her salon. “She was a talented hairstylist to be sure.”

  Katelyn released a trembling breath. “She did have this unlikeable, shallow side of her though. She loved attention from men. Thrived on it. She was never happier than right after someone told her how beautiful she was.”

  Hazel couldn’t say she was surprised. Not that Valerie hadn’t been pleasant the few times she’d talked with her, but Hazel had picked up on an ever-present sense of self-importance.

  Katelyn dropped her gaze and straightened the packages she’d stacked. “A few months back, there was this guy who came in to get his haircut. Good looking guy, and Valerie was sure he liked her. I was at Valerie’s shop one time when he showed up, and he was a relentless flirt with her. They were like a match to dry kindling. I don’t know whether or not Valerie knew he flirted like he did with one goal in mind.”

  Hazel widened her eyes. “He wanted a physical relationship with her?”

  She blinked back tears and nodded. “The first time Valerie talked about him, I knew she was hooked. Then a few weeks later, she told me she’d discovered he was married.”

  That would never lead anywhere good. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, no, is right. I was certain Valerie had enough self-respect to break it off.”

  Hazel paused before stacking the toilet paper she held in her hands. “But she didn’t.”

  “Nope.”

  T
hings were slowly falling into place. “Let me guess. Amanda is the name of this guy’s wife.”

  Katelyn cast her a worried look. “Yes.”

  Apparently, Bob had been well aware of Valerie’s affair with a married man. Hazel wondered how that came to be if he and Valerie despised each other so much. It wasn’t like she’d had a neighborly conversation with him over the back fence.

  Hazel tilted her head and regarded Katelyn. “Have you ever met Amanda? Do you know if she was aware of the affair?”

  “I wouldn’t know her from Adam, but Valerie said she’s stalked her on social media. Valerie wasn’t certain Amanda knew about her cheating husband, but she was worried she did because of the types of things she posted online.”

  Which meant Amanda would have plenty of reason for wanting to kill Valerie. “Can you tell me this guy’s name? Where he lives?”

  She shook her head. “All I know is Valerie called him Bran.”

  Hazel lifted the last package from her cart and placed it on the stack. Brandon? Brantley? “Do you know if she was still seeing him?”

  Katelyn shrugged. “I’m not sure. She hadn’t mentioned him in the past couple of days, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  Hazel nodded as she pondered the information. “This makes me wonder if it wasn’t one of them. The wife because she was jealous and angry. Bran, too. Perhaps he’d wanted to break it off, and Valerie didn’t. Have you told any of this to the police?”

  She lifted a hand as though to explain, but then let it drop. “I haven’t. I didn’t even think about it until now while we’ve been talking. I guess I’ve been too distraught.”

  “Of course, you have. But you might want to now that you’ve remembered things.”

  A small sob spilled from her lips. “Yes. I want to do whatever I can to help them catch Valerie’s killer as soon as possible. She’s been so good to me. She was my rock, my anchor after I broke up with my fiancé. I owe her this and so much more.”

  Hazel wasn’t sure what prompted her to lean over and hug Katelyn. It wasn’t like she knew her very well, either, but Katelyn sure looked like she could use a friend. Especially now that she no longer had Valerie.

  Katelyn gave her a watery smile. “Thank you. I feel so much better just from talking to you.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

  “You are. You really are.”

  “Hey, I don’t know if you’re interested, but I was planning on eating dinner at Cora’s on Friday. If you’re up for it, you’re welcome to join me there. Cora usually sits for a bit to chat, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the extra company at all.”

  Katelyn hesitated and then nodded. “I think I might. Don’t count on me, but right now, that sounds like exactly what I need.”

  “No pressure. I’ll be there either way. Six-thirty. If you’re hungry and want to talk, come on over.”

  Katelyn managed a sincere smile. “Thanks.”

  Eight

  As soon as Hazel was back in her shop and had sent Gretta to lunch, she picked up the phone and called Cora. After two rings, her friend answered, sounding much too cheerful.

  “Stop sounding so happy, Cora,” she teased. “I have a serious problem.”

  Her friend chuckled, obviously not believing her.

  “I’m serious. I don’t think the crystals and acorn are working.”

  A short pause came across the line. “They’re not? What makes you say that?”

  The uncertainty in her tone brought Hazel a small bit of satisfaction. “I had another mishap of sorts.”

  She explained the demise of the toilet paper tower at the grocery store.

  Cora responded with laughter. “Oh, sugar. I wish I could have watched that. I bet it was hilarious. I can picture Mrs. Tillens trucking across the front of the store, and then the near miss with your cart. Then all those glorious packages of toilet paper raining down on you.”

  Hazel tried to hate her for making fun of the situation but couldn’t. “You do realize my label as the town’s goof is going to rub off on you. You’ll be the friend of the halfwit.”

  “That’s okay,” she said with mirth in her voice. “I’ve got your back.”

  Then she burst out laughing again.

  Hazel wasn’t as amused as Cora. “Okay, stop laughing. Despite how humorous you find this, I have a problem. What if the tumbling towers of TP turn into something worse?”

  First a snicker and then a snort came across the phone. “Sorry. I’ll be serious. Umm…”

  Several moments ticked by, and Hazel assumed she was pondering solutions.

  “Do you have a four-leaf clover with you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. Do you?”

  “No.” Cora sighed. “How about a horseshoe?”

  Hazel was quickly losing patience. “Who carries a horseshoe around with them?”

  “My grandmother.”

  Not the answer Hazel wanted. “Is she here right now?”

  “No.”

  Exactly. “Then let’s talk about actual, workable solutions, okay?”

  “Yes. Let’s see…”

  Hazel swore she could hear Cora drumming her fingers against the café’s counter while she filtered through possible answers, and Hazel fought to hold on to what remained of her patience.

  “There’s only one thing I can think of that doesn’t require anything other than what you have right now. You’re going to have to wear your underwear inside out.”

  Hazel waited several moments for Cora to return with a “just kidding”. But she didn’t. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Cora snorted. “Wow. I’m still shocked at how many things your mother failed to teach you.”

  She paused to give Cora a chance to come clean while she tried to remember which pair of panties she’d put on that morning.

  “Hazel?” Cora finally asked.

  “I’m here. I’m just waiting for you to stop teasing me and be serious.”

  She laughed. “This is totally legitimate, Hazel. If one wants good luck, she should wear her underwear inside out. If she’s having bad luck, then switching her underwear will change her luck. It’s a thing. I promise.”

  Hazel considered that. “What if the tumbling toilet paper was just a coincidence and not bad luck? Then what?”

  “Well…then if you switch, you’ll be going from good luck to bad.”

  She growled her frustration and flattened her palm against her forehead. “Can I just have neutral luck?”

  “I guess you could try to go without any underwear. Maybe that’s neutral.”

  “You, Cora, are no help at all.”

  She chuckled. “Just switch them inside out. You’ve had enough bad luck lately that I’d probably err on that side.”

  Cora was enjoying this much more than she should. “I’m going to go now. Maybe I’ll go see if I can find a ladder to walk under or spill a bunch of salt.”

  She snorted. “Just change them, Hazel.”

  “Bye,” she said in a singsong voice.

  “Bye,” Cora echoed.

  Hazel clicked off her phone and frowned. To change or not to change. She couldn’t imagine it would honestly make a difference.

  Then again, she had an acorn in her pocket and two crystals in her bra. She’d obviously thought they could help her, so why not this?

  Before she could overthink it, she made her way into the small bathroom at the back of the store. Luckily, she’d worn a skirt, so switching took no time at all.

  When she returned to the front of her teashop, she found Polly McGillicutty standing at the counter wearing her usual buttoned-up blouse and no-nonsense expression. Hazel’s cheeks burned from embarrassment, though she knew there was no way Polly could know what she’d just done.

  She’d promised herself she’d do her best to forge a friendship with the leader of the town’s coven who seemed to like everyone but her. No better time to start than right now. “Hi, Polly. I’m really glad you st
opped by.”

  Polly eyed her with a wary look, which Hazel considered excessive. After all, Hazel had been the one to return her ancestor’s spell book back to Polly. She should be eternally grateful.

  Polly tucked a strand of her straight brown hair behind her ear. “You might not be happy to see me after you hear what I have to say.”

  Hazel frowned. “What would that be?”

  Polly glanced about the shop. “Are we alone?”

  She gave her a firm nod. “We are.”

  She lifted her chin in acknowledgment. “News of your recent engagement has spread through the town, and a couple of sisters in the coven have come to me expressing their concerns.”

  By “a couple of sisters”, Hazel was certain Polly meant the snooty Harriett Palmer and Olivia Barnett who’d been willing to give up a month of her life to see if Hazel had lied. “I don’t see how that would be their concern at all. That’s my private life and doesn’t affect my relationship with anyone in the coven.”

  Polly lifted a contrary finger. “Oh, but it does. As much as I wish otherwise, you have been blessed with potent powers. Carried down the line from Clarabelle, I’m sure, and made prominent in you. This doesn’t happen with every generation, you know.”

  Wait. Polly wished she hadn’t been blessed with magic?

  Hazel wasn’t sure if she should hate Polly for her jealousy or admire her for being honest. Her conscience said she was likely leaning toward the first scenario.

  She took a moment to swallow a sharp retort. Diplomacy. No emotion. “I still don’t see how that’s anyone’s business.”

  Polly also paused, and Hazel wondered if she was doing the same. “If you are to marry within the witch community, your offspring stand a supremely high chance of inheriting incredible power. If not, the bloodline will be diluted, and it may take a century for your line to cleanse itself again.”

  Blood pulsed thick in her head. A small voice told her to let it go, but a bigger, badder emotion wouldn’t be silenced. “Are you suggesting that if Peter and I were to have children they would be somehow lacking?”

  Polly exhaled and shook her head in disappointment. “Witches like you and I don’t have the luxury to dilute our powers and hurt the coven just to satisfy a whim.”