Page 4 of Bewicched

I brought his brownies and soda to the worktable. I could have put them on my coffee table, inviting him to sit down, but I didn’t know anything about this guy. He could stand and eat.

He was leaning in to examine something on myDeep Oceancanvas when his head snapped to the windows overlooking the deck and ocean. “A tennis ball just dropped on your deck.” His confusion was hilarious.

“Be right back,” I called, jogging to the door. “Eat your brownies.”

Once outside, I shaded my eyes from the sun, looking for the little scamp. Wilbur was a gray speckled harbor seal who liked to play catch. And hide-and-seek. I grabbed the wet tennis ball. Looking for the telltale ripple, the quick surfacing of his rounded head, I searched the water.

“Where are you, you little punk?” I muttered, pacing across the deck. Giving up—that brownie wasn’t going to eat itself—I pulled my arm back to throw it as far as I could and then stopped, remembering I had access to a werewolf’s arm.

“Declan!” I shouted, turning back to the studio door and bouncing off his chest.

“Yes?” He was leaning against the doorframe, watching me.

I handed him the wet ball and pointed out into the ocean. “Throw that as far as you can, please.”

He did and I loved that he didn’t ask questions first. Just threw. I walked past him to change gloves and get my brownie when I heard him say, “Look at him go.”

I ran back out, searching the water. “What did you see?”

“A seal. He came shooting out from under the deck, racing after that ball.”

“You’re a cheat, Wilbur!” Shaking my head, I stared through the slats of the deck. “I know you were hiding him, Cecil! I’m not happy with you either!” I stomped back into the studio. They were ganging up on me.

Declan stayed in the doorway. “Got beef with a seal, huh?”

“He knows what he did. I don’t have to explain it to you.” Sneaky little bugger, hiding where he knew I couldn’t find him. “Hey, how long will I not have a deck?” Some days, it felt like half my time was spent out there.

“You going to eat that brownie?” Declan was staring at the brownie I had left on the plate with the fork.

I stared him down, laughing on the inside. It made me happy when people enjoyed my baking. It took the edge off all those sleepless nights when I baked instead of slept. “Depends. How long will I be without my deck?”

“Do you want it fast or do you want it good?” He walked over to the plate and slid it closer to himself.

I hit it with a spell, sliding it back to my end of the table. “I want both.” I lifted the plate and forked up a huge chunk, stuffing it in.

“Talk about cheaters,” he grumbled. “I can do it in two or three days. Since I need to be careful during demo, making sure nothing drops in the water, it’ll go a little slower.”

“Hmm.” I slid the plate back across the table. With my finger. “Okay. And as an act of goodwill—something a cheater would never do—I’ll have baked goods at the ready for you to urge you along faster.”

He rested his hands on his hips and gave me back the suspicious stare. “How do I know the rest of what you bake is any good?”

“You don’t.” A knock sounded in the gallery space. I checked my watch. “I have an appointment. Go away.” I waved my hand toward the open studio doorway before heading through the gallery door.

Crossing the floor felt like walking on water. As the contractors had to level the floors anyway, I had them pour deep swirling blue-stained cement in the gallery and studio. The gallery portion of the cannery was still wide open and empty. The cannery had a forty-foot ceiling, with exposed metal beams and a wall of windows looking out over ocean.

The workmen had made all the repairs, painting the walls a dark midnight blue and replacing all the broken windows. The window washer bill was going to be astronomical, which was why I still took on random clients for readings. I needed to keep the money coming in. And as the windows rose almost as high as the ceiling, I needed to have them UV treated. I didn’t want my art pieces fading in the sun.

I pulled open the dented metal door—the last thing that would be replaced once all the work was done—and found a nervous-looking man on my doorstep. Short dark hair and sad brown eyes. He wore jeans and a light blue button-down.

“Hello.” I knew this was the guy I was waiting for, but I could tell he wanted to run, so I gave him a chance to make up a story and take off.

“Hi. My sister Lili said I should come see you.” He stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets and waited for me to put him out of his misery.

“Sure. Come on in.” I opened the door wide and waved him in. “How is Lili? I haven’t seen her in a few months.”

Some of the tension in his shoulders loosened. “Oh, you know Lili. Working her way up that corporate ladder. Mom and I joke she’ll be their youngest CEO.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Lili was actually good friends with my cousin Cat, but I knew he needed comfortable small talk. “Hey, I just made brownies. Would you like one?”

---