Page 9 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

Trying to keep her nosy sister from examining its contents, Elara slapped her hands on the cardboard flaps and scowled. “What are you doing here, anyway? It’s not like you read.”

With narrowed eyes, Payton peeled Elara’s fingers away, one by one, leading to a tussle. Her sister released a triumphant cry when she pinned Elara to the ground and used her for a chair as she dug into the order.

“Vibrators?”

“You don’t need to crow about it,” she growled, shoving Payton off her. “And why don’t you say it louder? I’m sure they didn’t hear you across the road atWilyWitches Brew-Ha-Ha.”

“Oh, pfft. Stop acting like an uptight virgin. Who cares what these people think?”

“Me. And so should you.”

“I gave all that up when I dumped Mayor Cobb’s son,” Payton said, waving her hand in dismissal. Her breezy attitude didn’t match the troubled light in her aquamarine eyes. And with good reason! She’d loved Dailey Cobb with her entire being, insisting she’d left him at the altar for his own good.

“Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”

“At a distance.” Her pain was difficult to witness, and Elara hugged her, only to be brushed off. “Our break up was two years ago, El. It’s old news.”

“You can kid yourself and the rest of Witchmere, but not me, P. You still care.”

“Maybe, but it was for the best. I’m not wifey material,” Payton replied, morose.

“Who is?”

They both screeched, nearly falling over when Florence stepped from the shadows.

“What the hell is wrong with you gels? You’re powerful witches, and you jump at every shadow.”

“In case you didn’t know, this attic is horror story worthy,” Elara retorted. “Even Hex refuses to come up here.”

“Because that cat is too lazy to move off the sofa. Goddess forbid he’d have to chase a mouse or seek out a meal.” A cough rattled in Florence’s chest, but it didn’t stop her from placing another home-rolled cigarette between her lips.

“Don’t you dare light that in here!” Payton jumped up and tossed the offending cigarette away. “Not only are they cancer sticks, but if you drop an ash in this tinderbox, we’re likely to be burned alive.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Flo muttered. “Besides, fags settle my nerves. Maybe you’d know if you had a puff or two.”

“I suspect you roll weed in with that tobacco, so I suppose you’ve got a point. But skip the toxic crap and go straight to that golden high already.”

“You have a hippy heart like your mother, gel.”

With a litany of swear words, Payton stormed away.

“Was that necessary, Flo?” Elara asked softly, careful to keep censure from her tone. Her cantankerous old boss hated to be in the wrong and turned surly if confronted head-on.

“No. But I see so much of—” The older woman clammed up, compressing her lips as if to lock the words inside.

Elara took a wild guess. “You see so much of my parents? You knew them?”

When they were young, Payton and Elara lived with their parents on the outskirts of this town. But nothing had kept Rupert and Mae Hawthorne in one place for long. As Flo said, they possessed hippy hearts, and their bohemian lifestyle invited scorn.

“Yes,” Florence snapped.

Elara stared, waiting her out. Eventually, the old curmudgeon softened, and her gaze dropped to the box.

“Vibrators, hmm?” Florence’s laughter surprised Elara. “The first box sold like hot cakes at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“What?”Aghast, she stared at her boss. “You said you were sending them back!”

“Enguerrand suggested I put them on the social media shopping site. That TickerTape video went vital.”

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