Page 16 of Solstice

“What did you do, rent a billboard?”

“Tipped off the local press. Reverend Mackey, too. Figured he ought to be aware of what was brewing. Get it?Brewing?” His chuckle made Jason’s stomach knot up.

“Got it. Not smiling. This is her personal business, Kemp. What earthly good is it going to do to spread it all over town?”

“Might show her who she’s dealing with. We’re a God-fearing town, Jason. We don’t need her kind coming in trying to corrupt the youth.”

“Corrupt the—Jesus, Kemp, she’s a decent woman.”

“Best brush up on your scriptures, Jason. And trust me, law or no law, there’s no way in hell she’s getting a table at our Christmas Craft Fair.”

“Holiday Craft Fair,” Jason corrected. “Remember you changed the name for the sake of political correctness?”

“Name or no name, it’s the Christmas Craft Fair and everyone in this town knows it. That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will continue to be. Period.” The decisive click told him that Kemp had hung up.

Jason sighed, unable to argue with dead air. Now he’d messed things up thoroughly. Dori was going to be furious. This was the last thing she wanted. He hit the flash button, got a dial tone, and reached to the keypad to punch in her number—but then he thought better of it.

This kind of news ought to be delivered in person.

Or maybe it was just that he wanted to see her again. God, he wanted to see her again. When he’d touched her today in the diner, held her hands, it had been like…like taking his first breath after too long under water. He hadn’t breathed like that in ten years. She was his air. He needed her. But now...now he’d probably blown any chance he’d ever had.

* * *

Dori walked into Uncle Gerald’s cabin and shucked her winter clothes. Then she took the candle from the little bag in which the mysterious old woman had packed it. A year ago, she wouldn’t even have questioned the significance of the encounter. A year ago, everything in her life had made sense. Everything mundane had spiritual implications and everything spiritual affected the mundane. Her life had been integrated, or she thought it had been.

But she’d changed her mind about all of that. Decided she’d been deluded. There was no such thing as magic, or if there was, it had abandoned her. Just as the Goddess had.

So why was she questioning this now? Why was some voice in her mind telling her it had all been more than just a coincidence? The detour, the car breaking down, the woman looking the way she did, the shop that had never been there before, the candle.

Had she really stopped believing in magic? Or had she only told herself she had?

Sighing, she went into the living room, to the mantel. The glass-enclosed candle holder there resembled a lantern and had always been her favorite because she could use it indoors or out. But a long time had gone by since she’d done either. It held a long since burned-out stump. She swallowed, feeling guilty.

She lifted off the glass chimney and plucked the old stump free. Then she carefully placed the new candle in its place and lowered the glass over it again. She spent a moment, staring at it, reviewing the feelings that had rushed over her when the old woman had first appeared in front of her. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time—that surge of certainty that she was in the presence of the Divine. Not really.

And now that she really thought about it, her spirituality seemed to have been flagging long before she lost her job and all her money.

She went to the wastebasket and looked down at the Goddess sculpture that lay, face up, atop a banana peel and some coffee grounds.

Someone knocked. She lifted her head and went to the door. Why did her heart jump just a little when she saw that it was Jason? Okay, so she was attracted to him. What woman wouldn’t be? But did she have to react like a teenager with her first crush?

Yes. Because she felt like a teenager with her first crush. Hell, he had been her first crush.

“You came back,” she said, and in spite of her best efforts, her voice sounded breathless.

“You didn’t think I would?” He was doing that thing with his eyes, again. Looking at her in that way he had. He focused on her toes first and then her face.

She shrugged. “No, I really didn’t.”

Jason sighed. “I’m afraid you’re not gonna be glad I did. And you can’t believe how sorry I am to say so.” He stomped the snow off his boots and walked inside. He was avoiding her eyes.

She pressed her lips. “So, this isn’t a social call?”

“Not really.” He was in the process of prying off his boots as he said it, but he stopped and looked up quickly, as if to gauge her reaction to that. “Did you want it to be?”

She shrugged and avoided his searching look. She wasn’t surprised. His learning the truth about her might have cooled any notion he might have had about starting things up again with her. He might be open-minded but being open-minded and dating a Witch were pretty different things.

“I owe you an apology, Dori.”

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