Page 21 of Bewicched

I went in search of Phil. I thought he’d needed to ask me something earlier, but I’d left before he could. The lights remained off, but I lifted the shutters. The studio was filled with a soft gray light. Dark, heavy clouds hung over the ocean.

Shaking out my damp curls, I went to the windows and looked out. The deck was gone. Stilts, like candles on a cake, rose out of the water. On top of the post closest to my back door was a tennis ball. I laughed, the sadness finally slipping away.

Opening the back door, I shouted, “How did you do this, Wilbur?”

I’d have to reach out over a ten-foot drop to the ocean to grab the ball. It wasn’t like I was worried about drowning. Dad’s DNA meant the ocean and I were cool with each other. It was more that I’d just showered and was wearing my favorite cozy clothes. I didn’t want to go for a swim.

Glancing out the door, I found no one nearby, so one little spell later, I had the ball in my hand and was throwing it as far as I could.

I closed and locked the back door and then went to the gallery in search of Phil. I didn’t see him, but his men were still working, including Declan.

“Hey, guys. Is Phil around?”

Juan and Mike, who were Phil’s usual guys, both shook their heads. Although they’d never stated it, I got the impression Juan was in charge when Phil wasn’t on site. Juan was a hair shorter than my five foot four. He had dark hair and eyes and wore the most beat-to-shit boots I had ever seen. He should be the spokesperson for that brand of work boot. They were indestructible. Mike, on the other hand, was mostly quiet. He had red hair with a wispy beard. He smiled when he saw me and always tried to help if I asked him for something, but otherwise deferred to Juan. Declan, the newest to the crew, stayed out of it.

“He’s at another job. Do you have a question for us?” Juan asked.

“It was more I thought he had a question for me. He said this morning that he needed to talk to me today.” Hopefully, I didn’t hold up anything important by not being here or by napping.

Juan nodded and pointed to the café area. “The display case was delivered today. We didn’t unbox it yet. Phil said you wanted to add shelves. We just needed to know where before we dropped the display case in.”

“Oh.” I looked back, and there were beautiful gray wood shelves around the café area for my mother’s teas, as well as on the back side of the metal strut.

“Your mother stopped by earlier looking for you and said this is what you wanted.” Juan looked at Mike. “Normally, we’d wait for the owner to confirm before we did anything, but she was insistent and…” The poor guy looked lost for a moment. “I’m not sure why we did that without your okay.Isit okay?”

I knew why. My mother had put a little push behind her words. Spelling my crew? The woman did not understand boundaries.

I nodded, mostly to wipe the look of concern from Juan’s face. It wasn’t his fault my mother was a controlling piece of work. “Yeah. I’m sure they’ll work out just fine. In the future, though, if my mom asks you to do something, please check with me. This is my gallery, not hers.”

“Yeah, of course.” Juan shook his head as though he couldn’t believe they’d done that.

This was exactly what I’d feared when I’d said I’d sell Mom’s teas here. She’d try to take over and bring the rest of the Coreys with her. If I hadn’t needed something for my customers to wash down my baked goods with, I’d have kicked Mom and the rest of the fam out. As it was, though, Mom’s tea was that good. I’d work on spelling the building to try to hinder any undue magical influence.

“We were just heading out,” Juan said, picking up a toolbox and tarp.

“Oh, sure. Have a good evening.” I walked them to the door so I could lock up.

Declan was the last out the door. He studied me a moment as the other guys jogged down the front steps. “You need more sleep.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I waited for him to leave and then turned the lock, adding a spell to the mechanism. A side effect of horrendous visions and nightmares was a hyper awareness of all the bad things that could happen. I did my best to shake it off or I’d be a gibbering idiot, hiding in a closet.

On a night like this, though, when I was raw, the fear was close to the surface. So, doors locked and spelled. No one was sneaking up on me.

I went back to the studio—locking that door, as well—and made myself a cup of calming tea. I considered making dinner, maybe soup to settle my jittering stomach, but decided it could wait. I wasn’t ready.

Instead, I curled up in my chair, tucked a soft throw around me, opened my e-reader to the mystery I was reading, and held my tea cup, warming my hands.

I’d just started the who-done-it chapter when there was a knock on the back door. As I was pretty sure Wilbur hadn’t grown hands, I went to the light switch by the door and flicked it on. Declan, balancing on a post by my back door, was holding up a bag from a local burger joint.

What the hell was this?

Barely opening the door, I was hit with a blast of cold wind off the ocean. I stared down. He was balancing on one boot on a post swaying with the waves.

“Good. I was hoping you weren’t asleep yet.” He looked completely at ease. Balancing. On one foot.

“What are you doing?” I held the door mostly closed, trying unsuccessfully to block the wind.

“Can I come in?” He held up the bag again. “I brought dinner.”

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