Page 86 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Before they could start toward the ever-changing back room—before they even had a chance to recover from their almost-kiss—the door opened behind them. Clara barreled through the entrance then stopped short in front of Owen.
Ink hopped from his shoulder into her arms.
“Hello, Ink,” she said to the kitten.
Evie followed behind her with an armful of journals. “The festival is officially canceled. Let’s get reading.”
Angela stepped inside and locked the door behind them.
“We can use my room!” Clara said before she took off, darting between the shelves. Owen and Evie followed after her, but Florence lingered behind, falling in step with Angela.
“So,” she said. “You and Evie.”
Angela ducked her head and stared after Evie with so much love in her eyes that Florence had to look away. It wasn’t something meant for her to see. “I know she’s your sister.”
“I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner,” Florence said.
Angela shot her a glance. “Like you would’ve been okay with that.”
“You’ve been in love with each other for years,” Florence said. “I never wanted to admit it, but I knew. I’m sorry if I got in your way.”
Angela took Florence’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It happened when it was meant to happen.”
Florence bumped her shoulder against Angela’s as they made their way to the back room. They found the door flung wide, the room transformed into a cozy study space. Squashy chairs big enough to sit cross-legged in surrounded a broad table. Once again, a steaming teapot and a collection of mismatched mugs rested in the middle. The overhead fairy lights had been replaced with lamps on small round tables, giving the room a homey, well-lit glow without any of the eyestrain of fluorescents. A fireplace with a cozy fire burned in the corner of the room. There was even a small cat bed, though Ink ignored it and jumped up onto one of the chairs.
Clara claimed the seat with Ink; Angela sat beside her. Evie took the chair next to Angela. Florence and Owen shared a look, and at his arched eyebrow and her answering nod, she took the chair next to her sister, surprised to find herself communicating with this man without a single word.
Florence opened her deck and started to shuffle.
“Tarot?” Evie asked. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? The last time we did a reading together …”
“The last time we did a reading together, we were at odds,” Florence said. “This time, we have the same goal.”
She fanned out the cards on the table in front of them, heat starting in her chest. She held her hand over each one. Like last night, it took the magic a moment to make its way down to her hand. Finally, her palm warmed. She glanced up at Evie.
“You wantmeto flip it?” Evie asked, surprise in her voice.
When Florence nodded, Evie leaned forward and did just that.
The seven of swords stared up at them. The card depicted a woman with shoulder-length brown hair standing on the front porch at Honeysuckle House. She held a vine in one hand. In the other, a pair of gardening shears. She’d cut the vine so she had five of the thorns on the piece in her hand, leaving only two on the rest of the plant.
“Remind me what this one means?” Owen asked.
“Resourcefulness and strategy!” Clara said from where she sat with Ink in her lap.
“Very good,” Evie said.
“Exactly what we’re going to need if we’re going to break this curse,” Florence said. “But it can also point to deception.”
“Like what my great-grandparents did,” Owen said. To Evie and Angela, he explained, “We think they punctured the brake fluid reservoir on Helen and Christopher’s car, causing the accident.”
“To what end?” Angela asked.
“To steal the shop,” Florence said.
“But how does this help us now?” Evie asked.
“Another card?” Angela suggested.
