Page 28 of Fresh Old Bounties

“Maybe Rufus can follow the smell?”

“How many people have touched that?”

“Me, Dru, and whoever put it in my shop.”

“You know Rufus is not a search and rescue dog, right?”

“He sure searches when it suits you, though.” Like the time he had tracked me down in Guiles and Romary. I shook the bag. “Please?”

Without another word, he plucked the bag from my fingers and set it aside.

This was what I loved about Ian. He didn’t make me or my ideas feel like annoying tasks he had to complete in order to humor me. He either was on board, or he told me what he thought of the plan to my face.

“Why would Preston want your grandmother’s spellbook?” he asked, crossing his arms. He was wearing a faded black long-sleeved T-shirt today, and the movement brought the fabric taut across all the right places, making my mouth dry.

“To mess with my head. A distraction, so I focus on that instead of trying to stop him from taking over the Corner Rose.”

“It seems farfetched and overly complicated. What if you just named a price?”

“I’m sure he’d make up something to stall the sale, then cancel it.” I rubbed my chin, frowning deeply as I began pacing a tight circle in front of Ian. “Maybe it has nothing to do with me stopping him from taking over the Corner Rose.” I remembered Doyle’s tirade about expanding the Tea Cauldron the last time I’d talked to her in Montel. “Maybe he wants my shop so he can expand.”

“I doubt it. The Corner Rose is big enough for Tabbies’s purposes. Making a bigger store would make it lose its charm. It wouldn’t attract as many tourists. And, even if those were his plans, the Council would never sell him the building.”

He was right. “What if he doesn’t know it belongs to the Council?”

Ian gave me one of his patented c’mon, Hope, use that brain of yours looks. I grimaced. “Yeah, all right, he knows.” I sighed and leaned my elbows on the island by his side. “It’s too coincidental for him not to be involved.”

“Coincidences happen.”

“But why would anyone else want Grandma’s spellbook? It makes no sense.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing special about it?”

“As sure as my name.”

“There might be some kind of code that you missed.”

“Code?” Realization hit me. “You mean, like Bagley’s ledger code?”

His expression softened. “Maybe.”

“No.” I shook my head hard. “No way. Grandma wasn’t a dark witch.”

“Hope…”

“No. Nope.”

Despite my vigorous denial, I searched for the few precious memories I held of Grandma, most worn down to smells and feelings and hazy images taken as if someone had been standing behind us with a Polaroid camera at the ready. Nothing jumped out. Nothing that made my gut tighten with doubt. “Grandma was a good witch. The best witch.”

“Then maybe the spellbook is worth more than you think it is?”

I gave him a rueful smile. “I love my grandma, but it only has a few simple spells and a lot of notes on common herb combinations.”

Ian reached over to tug at my green hair strand, then lowered his hand to squeeze my arm. “The best option might be to wait until the person contacts you again, give them a price, and try to figure out who it is when they try to collect rather than assuming it’s Preston.”

I thought about that. As usual, he made an excellent point. “Everyone is a suspect,” I agreed.

His mouth curved upward. “Even me?”

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