Page 17 of Witch Upon a Star
I nervously pet my dragon’s back as I said shyly, “No. I bought that for Joe.”
A weird silence fell. I felt itchy, not sure how to break it.
Quinten came to stand on the other side of the counter from me. “You bought my cat a litter box?”
“Yes and no.” I made a face. This wasnotturning out how I’d hoped. So much for us being fast friends and hitting it off right away. “I’ve had the litter box for a while. I didn’t know why I had it, only that I would need it one day. And since Cuppa Joe is the only cat I expect to be coming in here, it’s hers now.”
He just stared at me. There was a slight squint to his eyes, like he was trying to solve a problem. Gods, what ifIwas the problem? What if he just walked out of here and that was it? No help today, no friendship, no date, nofuture. What if he took one look at me, saw how fucking weird I was, and walked out?
It was a possibility I had never considered.
I wasfarfrom normal. I was nowherecloseto being normal, and I never would be. I would always be me. Socially awkward, creepily accurate, and mysteriously prophetic. More like mysteriouslypathetic. I’d spent so much of my adult life believing that Quinten would fall in love with me, because Isawour future together, and yet it had never even occurred to me that he might notlikeme.
What if this was my curse, my payment? What if I was doomed to love a man who could never love me back?
“Okay, I’m just going to ask because I’ve never been one to beat around the bush. But are the rumors about you true? I mean, you’re building a New Age store, so I have to assume, but still. Are you a witch?”
My back stiffened and an old defensiveness rose up. Normally I didn’t care when people called me a witch.Icalled me a witch. I played it up too, and had certainly had my fun with it, but it was also my religion. I wasn’t some phony or charlatan trying to swindle people out of their money.
“I’m Wiccan,” I clarified sternly. I felt the crystals on my rings start to hum at my rising anger.
Quinten didn’t seem defensive or disgusted by my proclamation. “Honestly, I don’t know what that means or how thatdiffers from being a witch. I just don’t want to be offensive by accidentally saying something.”
I blinked, immediately deflating at his honest curiosity. “No, I’m sorry. I’m used to people making fun of me, or worse, demanding the winning lottery numbers.”
“Do you know the winning lottery numbers?”
My eyes narrowed slightly. “No. Even if I did, I wouldn’t say it or use it, because that would be using my powers for personal gain.”
He made a gesture around the store. “And this isn’t?” Again, he wasn’t saying it mockingly. But like a student in a classroom eager to learn.
I put Oolong down on the counter. “Of course not. This is going to be hard work. I’m going to have to fight every day to keep my doors open, but it’ll be worth it. This is going to be a safe place for everyone, regardless of age, gender, sexuality, or religion. Teens are going to be able to hang out here after school, and adults are going to be able to come here to decompress after a long stressful day. I want a place that’s spiritual in its community value more than monetary value.”
Quinten’s dark eyes seemed to lighten at my words. “Cool.” He picked up Joe and placed her on the counter next to Oolong. He pointed a finger in her face as he ordered sternly, “Don’t eat the dragon.” Then he started rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s get started.”
4
STARBUCKS
Calliope wasnothinglike I expected. Not that I thought of her really before this weekend, but rumors had been circulating about the local witch far longer than I had lived in Mount Grove. Discovering that she wasn’t eccentric, or for lack of a better word, a weirdo was a bit of a surprise. She was certainly peculiar. It was like she was living a second ahead of me, always handing me what tool or part I needed before I even had a chance to ask for it. This resulted in us not talking much, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
The shelving units she’d purchased were nice, but they had a lot of tiny parts to them. We first sorted out all the pieces to ensure we had everything. Calliope didn’t hesitate to get her hands dirty either. I’d known a lot of women over my years, both platonically and socially, that would have balked at touching a power tool. But not Calliope. She knelt on the dusty floor right beside me and we worked together to build each shelf, making the time spent on each unit go a hell of a lot faster than I had expected.
The silence was a bit awkward. Our eyes kept meeting, and we’d shoot the other a quick smile, and then duck our heads again. To be honest, I was not expecting only an hour to have passed when I checked my watch for the first time after we built the fourth shelf.
An hour? Really? I still had to be here for another three.
I didn’t expect her to be so shy. I wasn’t sure why, but that surprised me the most about her personality. Being this close to her on the floor, I noticed she had extremely long eyelashes. I wondered if they were fake, but doubted it. She only wore light eyeshadow and liner. I didn’t see any other makeup on her. She didn’t wear flashy clothes or jewelry—other than the fact that she had a subtle ring on each of her fingers. Well, all except her left ring finger. That finger was naked, and I wondered if that was significant.
Back in my early days as a Marine, my troop had been on some R-and-R in Germany. There’d been a Romani there who offered to take our fortunes, for a cost of course. She had on rings like Calliope but also massive hoop earrings, a scarf over her head, and so many necklaces that it was a wonder she didn’t accidentally decapitate herself. It was a look I’d seen on TV and in major cities that psychics wore. Calliope might have been wearing a black dress with a witch’s hat on Saturday, but she wasplainin comparison to those other women.
And yet, even that didn’t seem to fit her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was an intrinsic beauty to her. Not dulled, but muted. Like the volume was turned down on her entire being.
Together, we stood the fourth shelf up. She wanted four of them on the left wall and then the other two behind hercheckout counter. I had no idea what she was planning on putting on these shelves, because they were far too tall for her to easily reach the top two.
I refused to let her climb up on the ladder to bolt the unit to the wall. I’d been appalled she’d even tried to with the first one. What if she’d fallen? Besides, that’s what I was here for. I didn’t mind, and actually appreciated her help, when we were on the floor building the shelves, but no way in hell was she climbing up the ladder to secure them while I stayed safe on the ground.
No fucking way.
