Page 21 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Violet let out a small sound that fell somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. Helen Caldwell had seen the way Violet looked at Tillie back when they were teenagers, and though she’d warned Violet to keep it secret, she never pushed her to stop. In fact, it had been her mother who had mentioned the idea of roommates all those years ago. That had been before the accident, before Violet took over caring for her sister and their home and their livelihood.
“I’ll tell Regina soon,” Violet whispered. “I promise we won’t have to pretend forever.”
Tillie leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “So, you told her I’m moving into one of the spare bedrooms?”
A flush bloomed in Violet’s cheeks, and she ducked her head with a smile that had her right incisor digging into her lip.
“Do you really think she bought it?” Tillie asked.
Violet almost hadn’t believed her sister’s response. She’d been so certain she and Tillie had been obvious about their feelings in front of Regina—the way they’d danced around the living room, sat long into the night curled up on the couch drinking cocktails, walked hand in hand down to sit with the bees. Violet thought Regina not only saw the love between her and Tillie but accepted it. But her sister only ever had eyes for their magic. Maybe that was Violet’s fault, the way she’d poured so much time and willpower into keeping their candle business alive.
“She thought I was suggesting we turn our home into a boarding house for single women,” Violet said.
Tillie clapped a hand over her mouth as she stifled a laugh. “I don’t hate the idea,” she whispered. “You and me creating a home for women like us.”
They’d talked about other women around them, looked for signs they weren’t alone, and though Burdock Creek was a quiet place, safe from the sort of hatred she knew plagued towns across the country, they still worried.
“Let’s start with our future,” Violet said.
Tillie sighed. “It’s probably for the best you didn’t tell Regina. Until we know it’s safe.”
“It’s safe,” Violet said. “Regina loves me. She wants me to be happy just as much as I want that for her.”
Tillie made a thoughtful noise then popped a French fry into her mouth. Violet stirred her milkshake. She’d watched Tillie try to warm up to her sister, but Tillie was lucky to even get a smile out of Regina. Violet knew this, but still she hoped things would change.
“Did you at least give her the cards?” Tillie asked.
Violet shook her head as she pulled a wooden box containing a deck of tarot cards out of her large handbag—one of her mother’s old purses that Regina had tried more than once to convince Violet to give up in favor of the smaller bags that were in style now.
Tillie had hand-painted the cards, complete with illustrations from the Caldwell sisters’ home—bees, flowers, vines, and even Honeysuckle House itself. She’d made a deck for both Violet and Regina, something the sisters could share and a sign of what both Violet and Tillie hoped would become a new family dynamic. Violet had considered lighting a candle to ensure the cards would do just that, but she wanted her sister’s love and acceptance without any magic pulling it out of her.
Violet handed the box over to Tillie. “I think they’ll be better coming from you,” Violet said.
She hoped it was true.
Part IIIThe Magician
The power to bring your desires into the world.
Chapter Eleven
Evie, Now
Evie had been worried about the candle she’d left burning in her room that morning, a part of her tempted to go up and blow it out, then light it again when she returned. But she’d always been able to put her faith in the house. Now, she didn’t know what to think.
She held her hands tightly in her lap, her breath shallow, part of her still believing it was some sort of misunderstanding. That there was no fire at all. But as soon as Honeysuckle House came into view, Evie’s delusions shattered. Flames shone inside the window above Evie’s bedroom. Smoke billowed out. Evie tore at her seat belt. She threw open the door before the Jeep had come to a stop and jumped out of the car.
She ran for the house, but one of the volunteer firefighters stopped her before she could get very far—Ron Cooke, the same man who co-owned the antique shop she’d visited that morning.
“That’s my house!” she said.
“I know,” he said. “But you have to stay back.”
How could she? Honeysuckle House was more than a business. It was more than a home. It was family.
The front door opened wide at the sight of her. Evie almost ran for it despite the warning, when Angela and Clara caught up to her. Clara barreled past, and if Evie hadn’t grabbed her, she would’ve been through the door and into the flames herself.
“But Mommy! The house needs us!”
