Page 25 of The Witch's Shifter
“They’re making my glass custom. Thought I’d do some shopping in the meantime.”
“I see. And you’ve taken up knitting?” Her tone is playful. It reminds me of how much she liked to banter.
“No.” I glance down at the dark green yarn in my hand, then back up. “It’s not for me.”
At this, a slight change comes over Belinda’s face. If it were any other woman, I’d probably not have noticed, but there was a time when we were in love, when she was destined to be my wife. I know her facial expressions, the small tells in the way she furrows her brow or tosses her hair. And for some reason, what I said makes her smile flicker.
“A lady, then?” Her honey eyes avert from mine, though her daughter keeps staring.
I’ve always found that unsettling, the way children stare, unblinking, even when you wish they wouldn’t. Finally, I’m the one to look away.
“Yeah.” I squeeze the yarn in my hand, having made my decision. This one will be perfect. “Her name’s Aurora.”
Belinda skims her fingers over the different bundles of yarn, still not looking at me. “Aurora? That doesn’t sound familiar. Is she new in town?”
“Kind of. She’s Lilith’s niece.”
“The old witch?”
“Mm-hmm. Inherited that cottage of hers.” Now that I’m speaking of Aurora, words are coming easier to me. “She likes to knit. Thought I’d pick something up for her.”
“Well, that’s... thoughtful.” Finally, Belinda meets my eyes again, but I’m confused by what I see there. She looks almost, well, sad. Or what I remember her sadness looking like. But it’s been years.
“Ah, Mrs. Devereux, I thought I heard your voice.” The shopkeeper holds her arms out, and Belinda stoops to give her a hug. “And little Sophie as well, I see.” The old lady runs her fingers over Belinda’s daughter’s cheek, and the young girl giggles and kicks her feet. “Is Mr. Devereux here?”
Belinda angles her body slightly away from me, and I get the hint. Taking a few steps away, I begin perusing a selection of fabrics, and I’m looking at a particularlypinkbolt when Belinda reappears at my side.
“Sorry, I’m trying to run a few errands,” she says, then lets out a huff as the little girl, Sophie, wriggles to get down. After setting the child on her feet, Belinda pushes her hair back over her shoulder and meets my eyes. “Will you be in town tonight? We could get dinner. I know a great little place. You still like potato soup, right?”
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she still remembers such a minute detail. It’s like I expected her to forget all about me as soon as her wagon rolled out of Faunwood and down Wysteria Way.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll be here until tomorrow.”
“Great. The restaurant is right across from the statue in town square—Boar and Badger. You can’t miss it. Meet me there just after sundown? My treat.”
The shopkeeper returns and hands Belinda a bag full of yarn and fabric. Belinda thanks her, then grabs Sophie’s hand.
“So, I’ll see you tonight?” She looks at me with her big honey eyes and hopeful smile, and I know I can’t say no. Besides, I’m a bit curious. After all this time, she wants to have dinner? Why?
“Sure. I look forward to it.”
“Great.” Her smile grows. “See you tonight, then.”
Belinda and Sophie leave the shop, and I watch them through the front windows as they head down the cobbled street only to be swallowed up by a crowd of shoppers.
“Have you decided on a color?” the shopkeeper asks from behind me, calling my attention back.
“I think so.” I hold up the dark green skein. “I’ll take this one, please.”
After purchasing the yarn, I step back out onto the street, but Belinda has completely vanished. Sighing, I turn around and make my way back toward the Dancing Kettle, wondering all the while what she could possibly want to say to me over dinner.
Chapter 17
Aurora
“THEY SHOULD BE BACK BY now, shouldn’t they?” I ask Harrison for what must be the hundredth time. As usual, he’s lying on the kitchen table, sprawled out in a patch of yellow sunlight streaming through the window. A few silky cat hairs drift through the air when he shifts to get more comfortable. “Do you think they’re okay?”
There was a storm yesterday, abigone. It poured for what felt like hours, and the deluge left the ground muddy, with plenty of puddles for the hens to splash in. I watched out the window, just like Rowan said, until the sun set and I could no longer see the tree line through the darkness. Now I’m standing in the same exact spot, arms crossed, the scent of blackberry cobbler filling the kitchen around me. Rowan has had his eye on those blackberry bushes for months, and they’re finally ripe. What better way to welcome him home than with a steaming cobbler? Assuming he arrives home sometime soon...
