Page 20 of Solstice

“The secretary found it on my desk and took it to hers to file it. She was looking through it, and some other people read over her shoulder. Including the good town supervisor, Thomas Kemp.”

She blinked. “You mean everyone in the police department knows I’m a Witch?”

“Yeah. And pretty soon everyone else in town will, too. Kemp called the newspaper, and one of our local pastors, Reverend Mackey.” He prayed she wouldn’t hate him for this. “I’m sorry, Dori. I’m so sorry. I never meant to spread your secret like this. I...if I could undo it...”

“But you can’t.” She pushed both hands through her hair, pacing away from him. “Oh, Jason, what’s going to happen now?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t believe people are as narrow-minded as you think they are. Give Crescent Cove some credit. Have a little faith.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re telling me this today and not yesterday.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“’Cause yesterday I didn’t think I had any faith left.”

He sighed in relief. She hadn’t thrown him out. Yet. And if she was feeling she had a little faith left after all, then hope wasn’t lost. He reached for the sculpture they had just cleansed. “Can I hang her up for you?”

“You’d better. I’m going to need her.”

He hung the plaster image up for her. And he thought about kissing her before he left, but in the end, he didn’t. In fact, as she stood there at the door, saying good-night, it was all he could do not to. But the night had been an emotional one for her. He didn’t want to scare her off or send her into a panic, much less convince her that his motives were less than pure. And he was scared; he was still damn scared that the minute he let himself fall head over heels, she’d get the job offer she’d been waiting for and walk out on him again.

Because despite all that had happened—she still hadn’t told him she wanted to stay. And damn, he couldn’t risk his heart until she did.

A little voice inside him asked him if he really believed it wasn’t already too late.

* * *

The telephone was ringing by the time Jason left, and Dori picked it up with a sigh.

“Doreen Stewart?”

“Yes.”

“This is Grace Merrill from the Crescent Cove Chronicle. I’m doing a story about you, and I was wondering—”

“I don’t want a story done about me.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “You don’t understand. You see, I’m a—”

“This is my private business here, and I don’t want it spread all over the pages—”

“Some of it’s a matter of public record, Ms. Stewart.”

“Maybe I can’t stop you then, but I’m certainly not about to help you.” She hung up the phone, feeling just a bit guilty for having been mean. The reporter had seemed respectful enough, been decent on the phone. But she did not want this. And she knew the press well enough to know anything she said could be twisted around and used against her.

She cleaned up the living room, skipped dinner because her stomach was roiling, and went to bed early, but she barely slept. The morning paper might very well have the entire town talking and she did not want to deal with the gossip. But she didn’t think she had much choice.

All those worries paled in comparison, though, to the big issue on her mind. And that was—she thought she just might be falling in love with Jason Farrar. All over again.

* * *

The newspapers were stacked on the end of the counter for the customers, just as they were every morning, when Dori went in to work. She avoided looking at them as she tied on her apron, put on three pots of coffee, filled the sugar dispensers and cream pitchers and set them along the counters and on the tables.

The bells over the door jangled and jangled again as the morning crowd came in. “’Morning, Dori. Got my coffee ready?”

“’Morning, Sam,” she said, not meeting the old fellow’s eyes, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she filled four foam coffee cups, added fixings, snapped on the lids and stuck them into a cardboard carrier. “Here you go. Four large, two cream no sugar, one sugar no cream, one black. Three-fifty.” He dropped a five on the counter. “Keep the change, hon. Have a good one.”

She looked up only as the man took his standing order and headed for the door. That was odd. He always read the paper before he came in, always knew about the day’s news.

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