Page 44 of A Touch of Spring Magic

“We’re not dining fancy at Sammy’s or the Old Stone Steakhouse,” he reminded her. “And how is the book weird?”

He looked over to where it sat on the counter—out of the drawer again, and Jessica didn’t remember taking it out, but out it was. Still, she couldn’t imagine Storm rummaging through her drawers. He’d been outside all day. She’d been in and out of her kitchen, making sandwiches and then the tortilla soup, and she’d been operating on little sleep. Still she didn’t think she would have taken it out. A chill ran through her.

“It keeps showing up,” she admitted. “Like it’s stalking me, and that’s weird.”

He laughed, obviously thinking she was joking. Ha. Ha. But she did sound paranoid and ridiculous.

“Tell me about it.” He tilted his head, reminding her a little of a golden Lab at the park waiting for her to throw a ball to fetch.

“It showed up in Grandma Millie’s mini outdoor library. I told you that, but no way would she have put it there because she hoards—absolutely hoards family keepsakes. Her attic is full of trunks of Maye and Cramer history. If she ever leaves us, we could turn her house into a Piedmont, Gaston County museum. And she’s not forgetful. She’s as sharp as all of us.”

Jessica dipped her chip into the queso and spooned a bit of salsa on it, trying to look naturally proper but not too formal. She held the chip, not wanting to chew and talk though Storm didn’t have any such inhibitions.

“There’s handwriting throughout the book—different handwriting—none of it Grandma Millie’s, and lots of side notes, stories and sketches, and we don’t recognize any of the recipes except Grandma Millie’s famous biscuits, but even those she often doctored for certain occasions.”

Storm rose. “Doesn’t sound too weird or spooky. Can I?”

It seemed more portentous than it likely was.

“Sure.” She tried to act unaffected. It was just a book, and she was giving too much credence to her superstitious nature.

He carried the book in one palm back to the table and sat down, skooching his chair closer to hers so they could both look at it. He wiped his hands on a napkin before opening it, and Jessica braced as if bats were going to fly out of it, which she knew, just knew was utter foolishness.

“You don’t like the book?”

“I do. It’s just…” Now she was going to sound ridiculous. “I feel like it’s…I don’t know, like it thinks it’s meant to be here.”

She expected him to laugh.

“Like it found you?” He glanced up at her for a beat and then back to the book.

“Not just me. Us, I guess. Chloe found it first after the madrigal dinner. She’d volunteered to chair the Movable Feast, something Grandma Millie’s been doing for decades. I thought she’d have my mom take over—so did she, and my mom was beyond pissed, excuse my language—instead Grandma Millie insisted that all of us, take our ‘rightful’—” yeah she used air quotes like she was still in her sorority “—place in the community and Chloe jumped right up waving her hand like she was in school even though she didn’t cook.”

Storm smiled. “Sounds like Chloe.”

“That night the book appeared all alone in Grandma Millie’s mini library, and Chloe rushed off to Rustin to ask for his help to create an entrée for the Movable Feast.”

Storm concentrated on the book, leafing through it.

“And she and Rustin picked some recipes, and he made her follow them exactly, and then he fell in love with her, which is just weird. See? Weird.”

He looked up. “Why is it weird that they fell in love?”

She sighed and pushed away her bowl. “It’s not weird,” she said slowly, realizing how horrible she’d sounded. “Chloe is infinitely lovable, and if you go for the whole opposites attract, then maybe it makes sense as Chloe is high noon sunny and Rustin’s a stormy midnight.”

Storm laughed and his attention lingered on her until her pulse kicked up a little and her lips tingled.

“You’re not wrong there,” he said softly.

His attention returned to the book.

“It’s calledSouthern Love Spells,” she pointed out the obvious. “And there are weird directions in there about full moons, or saying a couplet three times as you’re stirring something or picking thyme at midnight and drying it facing east.”

His fingertip traced down a page, and his eyes shone. “It’s fascinating. Let’s make something.”

“No.” She jumped up. “We don’t have time for that. Look what happened. Rustin made Chloe cook something for him as he watched each step, and she had to follow the recipe and then she served him, and he fell in love with her—that’s what he said. He said it felt like the earth tilted on its axis and he saw Chloe in a whole new way.”

“And now they’re happy and engaged and can’t wait to build a life together. I know Rustin craves a stable family, belonging. Chloe absolutely glows with adoration for him. Seeing them together is like…hope. How is that a bad thing?”

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