Page 55 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
“I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this,” Florence said. “But we’re out of options.”
“Unless the shop has some way to let us look into the past,” Owen said.
“It used to be Grey’s Gifts, but that was before it became like a home to me—before it came to life,” Florence said. “It’s possible the woman who sold me the shop still has something from back then. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a—”
Before Florence could finish her sentence, the lights flickered off, plunging her and Owen into darkness. Florence yelped and stepped a little closer to him until their shoulders touched. The bulbs came back to life a few moments later. Neither of them stepped apart.
“What was that about?” Florence asked.
The coffee table began to shake. In the middle of it sat an ordinary candle—the sort they sold at the home décor store just a few shops down the block—and beside it, a book of matches.
“That wasn’t there before, was it?” Owen asked.
Florence shook her head. “You want me to light this?”
The bulbs glowed brighter.
Florence sat down on the couch and stared at the wax. It wasn’t a spell candle, so there was no danger in it. And shehadcome back to the shop for the sole purpose of a tarot reading. Still, the thought of setting wick to flame sent a burst of fear through her.
Owen sat beside her.
“Lighting this candle will help us somehow?” she asked.
Beneath her, the sofa gave an impatient shake, threatening to tip her into Owen once more.
“Alright, alright.” Florence picked up the matches, her hand unsteady.
“Do you want me to light it?” Owen asked gently.
“Would you?”
When she gave him the matches, their fingertips brushed for just a moment. Their eyes met, and Florence almost gripped his hand and held him there. Instead, she let go.
Then, Owen struck a match.
As soon as he lit the candle, an unnatural breeze blew through the room, putting out the flame and sending up tendrils of smoke from the still-red wick until the wisps coalesced into shapes. As a picture began to unfold, unfamiliar voices filled the room, and Florence watched the past play out before her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Regina, 1960
On the anniversary of her parents’ death, Regina road her bicycle down a side road that provided alleyway access to the Main Street businesses. She needed to go to Grey’s Gifts, and she needed to do it without her sister seeing.
Like his sister, Joshua Grey worked at the shop. While Tillie oversaw the sales floor alongside her mother, Joshua managed inventory and shipments, which meant he could often be found at the loading dock or in the small office at the back of the store. There was no guarantee he would be there, but Regina had burned a gold candle for luck before leaving the house. She had no doubt she’d find him exactly where she needed him.
Regina leaned her bike against the brick wall and pulled off her leather gloves. Then she started up the back steps. When she reached the door, she pressed the button next to a sign that readRing bell for deliveries.
She stepped back and waited. A few moments later, a man with a stunning likeness to Tillie stood in the doorframe. He had the same mousy brown hair and piercing honey eyes. But where Tillie only had an inch on Regina’s five-foot-four, Joshua towered over her—well over six feet tall. Regina squared her shoulders and crossed her arms. Were anyone watching the two of them, they would’vesworn Regina was the one looking down at Joshua, not the other way around.
“Regina,” Joshua said, a softness to his voice. “Violet’s out front, why did you—”
“I’m not here to see my sister.” Regina cut him short with a certain urgency in her clipped and whispered words. “We need to talk.”
Joshua’s thick eyebrows rose on his forehead. He grabbed a nearby brick and wedged it in the door, then gestured for Regina to lead the way down the steps. He followed her into the loading area.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
The most Regina ever said to Joshua since her parents’ deaths was a professional hello the few times they’d run into each other in town or when Violet had called asking her to drop off candles she’d left at home.
