Page 12 of Bewitched & Bewildered
It’s another nippy day. I change into a dark maxi skirt, a matching top, and plenty of outerwear to keep me warm. A coat and even a hat. It’s too much for autumn, but I’ll be walking around outside. I’m bundled by the time I’m out the door.
There’s a determined look on my face as I amble through the cobbled streets of Starbrook. The buildings are older and rustic. While some have been renovated, most look like they’re from another time. Some are gothic, while others are like quaint cottages.
On the walk to town, I pass dozens of houses, and I know everyone who inhabits them.
Driving is an option, but I want to make the best of the snowless weather. You would think being raised in the Northeast means I can handle the cold, but I can’t. Out of my sisters, I’ve always been the most ill-equipped for the winter chill.
There’s an old brown house in the middle of the town square. That’s where we hold our town meetings. The flower shop is cute and pastel, with gold lettering. There are even a few apartments, but none rise too high, leaving the gray sky in view. The leaves are rustling colors of orange, yellow, and purple.
Even though it’s getting colder, it’s the best time of the year.
You can find everything you need in our downtown: groceries, records, beer, and ice cream. Well, the icecream shop is closed for the season, but you can find the rest.
Everything except witch supplies.
I stop in front of my mother’s old shop. Hawthorne Apothecary.
My mother opened this shop when I was still a toddler and ran it for her entire life. It was my second home, and it still feels like it, no matter how long I avoid going in. My heart clenches.
This shop is mine now, and I don’t know what to do with it. I expected her to give it to us all— or perhaps Rowan. Her day job as an accountant would make her a good fit to run a business. Instead, she gave it to me, and heartbreak caused me to shut it down.
It’s been closed for a year now. Seeing the old sign is enough to break my heart.
My stomach drops. I turn ahead and continue along the path. I have to move on. I can’t keep looking back.
It’s hard when I’ve lived in the same place for most of my life.
I’ve already worked at many of these shops, whether a high school job or one of my many temporary jobs. The ice cream shop? It’s closed until spring, and I already worked there. The bakery? It’s not my style; I’ll leave that to Maple. The grocery store? I already worked there—and quit after two weeks. Stocking fruit isn’t as glamorous as it looks.
Working in Starbrook isn’t realistic. I have too much history with everyone, and there hasn’t been a new shop in years…
Times change, and sometimes you don’t notice. It’s tough to observe changes when you’re busy wallowing in your room for two weeks.
Something catches my eye. It’s an old building, but the sign is brand new.
When did this happen? I had heard about the pharmacy closing, but I didn’t know someone had already replaced it.
I stand in front of the quaint shop.
It takes a moment for the sight to sink in. A sign in front boasts a grand opening. It takes one peek through the window to see what’s inside.
Walls of jarred herbs, herb bundles hanging from the ceiling, big crystals, straw brooms…
Oh no. Oh no, no, no…
The world spins.
My earliest memories are in my mother’s shop. I remember running home to her, crying, after someone bullied me on the bus. She wrapped me up in her arms, whispered soothing words in my ear, and sat me down with a cup of peppermint and chamomile tea.
“Add honey,” she would say. “It makes everyone treat you with more sweetness.”
I don’t know how true it is, but it seemed to help every single time. Whoever runs this new shop can’t be as good as her—they can’t do it like her.
Neither can I. That’s the problem.
Hawthorne Apothecary has always been the only witch supply store in town. Now, someone new has come to take my memories from me.
Lapin Apothecary
