Page 48 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
That was enough for Florence. She stood so fast her knee bumped the coffee table. Owen leaned forward and steadied it before the teapot could tip over, but Florence was halfway to the door before she even realized it.
“Florence!” he said. “Wait!”
She looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. The lights brightened overhead. “I need to go. I shouldn’t have come here at all. I’ve already put you in enough danger. Don’t go back to Honeysuckle House.”
She turned to go, opening the door.
“I already knew about the curse,” he said. “After this conversation I can now say I’ve been warned away from Honeysuckle House and its witches by everyone who owns a business on Main Street.”
That stilled her, but it didn’t surprise her, even if it stung. She didn’t look back at him, only said, “You could’ve saved us both a lot of time.”
“I think the curse killed my great-aunt. Tillie Grey.”
Florence braced herself with a hand against the door. When she turned to look at him, he was holding out an old photograph. As tempted as she was to walk away, she couldn’t ignore this. With a steadying breath, Florence crossed the space between them and took the picture from him.
It was torn down the middle. The remaining part showed two women standing in front of a brick building, smiling as they stared ateach other instead of the camera, their hands just touching at the pinkies. One of them looked like she could’ve been Florence’s twin, were Florence’s hair a lot shorter. From their clothes, Florence would’ve placed it in the early 1960s. She flipped it over. On the back, it read:Tillie & Violet.
Florence had only seen a few photos of her great-aunt—her mother had never kept them on display, but the house would occasionally hang them up of its own accord—but this was the first time Florence had seen Tillie outside of a grainy photo of her obituary on the library’s microfiche. Of course, Florence knew Tillie by name. Her research on the curse had made it clear Tillie was one of its early victims, but Florence had never been able to piece together how she was connected to the Caldwells enough that the curse would take her, beyond a long-standing friendship between the families. Looking at the photograph now, it was obvious. Her great-aunt had been in love with the woman. The way they stared at each other, like they had their whole lives ahead of them, sent a wave of sadness through Florence.
“She’s why I’m here. My grandpa …” Owen paused, his voice catching on the words. “He had dementia. Tillie was all he would talk about at the end. He kept this photo of her at his bedside. I came to Burdock Creek hoping to learn more about my family history. I needed a way to stay here for more than a few days. When I saw the advertisement for a beekeeper, it felt like it was meant to be.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Florence asked.
“I’ve tried asking you to coffee more than once,” Owen said with a small smile.
At his words, Florence felt a twisting in her stomach. She’d thought this man had wanted to take her out, but he was just looking for answers. She’d let herself build up a picture of him in her head that wasn’t true and put him in danger because of it.
“I didn’t realize …” She paused, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Does Evie know?”
Owen shook his head. “I didn’t know Tillie was connected to your family when I first got here. Nothing my grandpa said about her over the past year made sense, and he never talked about it with mydad when he was younger. When I started asking around about my great-aunt, people told me she was one of the curse’s early victims. I wanted to talk to Evie about it, but I overheard her telling Angela how tired she was of trying to convince people she’d broken the curse. I was afraid she might fire me if she knew the truth, so I started coming around here.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Florence said. “I might be a Caldwell witch, but I don’t know much more about the curse than anyone else in this town.”
“But you gave up your magic because of it,” Owen said, confusion clear on his face.
“Evie and I did a tarot reading after our mother died,” Florence explained. “I drew temperance reversed and the hermit. It was a sign that our magic was out of balance, and a call to put it aside for good.”
“It sounds like Evie interpreted it differently,” Owen said.
“She thought we needed to use our magic more, to make it available to everyone in town,” Florence said bitterly. “Maybe one of us was right and our efforts canceled each other out, or maybe neither of us were. But the tower card you pulled? The house catching fire? The curse is coming, and now we’ll never know if we could’ve stopped it. The best I can do is try to keep everyone away from the house. We’re out of time and we’re out of options. Maybe if I had more to go on than a few tarot cards.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know how the curse started.”
“What if you did?” Owen asked. “Could you undo it then?”
“I don’t know,” Florence said. What was the point wondering? The town’s accounts of the curse had done little to tell her what had happened behind the walls of Honeysuckle House. She turned the photograph over in her hands, looking for any other secrets it might be hiding. “There’s no chance you have the other half of this, is there?”
Owen frowned and shook his head. “I thought maybe if I could figure out where it was taken that I’d be able find more information about Tillie, but I haven’t had much luck with that, either.”
All at once there came a thump from behind the couch, and with it the cracking of glass. As Florence and Owen turned to look over theback of the sofa, Ink hopped up to investigate. A picture frame lay face down on the ground behind them. They shared a look of confusion and excitement that had Florence wanting to reach across the space between them and take Owen’s hand. She resisted the urge and instead jumped up and followed the cat. Owen had the same idea, and they met behind the sofa, crouched down facing each other. Florence turned the frame over, careful not to touch the broken glass. It was a photo of her grandmother, and on the door behind her was a sign that readGrey’s Gifts.
“I remember seeing that picture in the hallway at Honeysuckle House,” Owen said, “where your sister has photos of all the Caldwells who died. How did it get here?”
Florence was less concerned with the how and more interested in the why.
“Ink & Pages and Honeysuckle House have always been connected, ever since the shop came to life,” she said. “I don’t fully understand it, but I think it’s like me and Evie. We’re family. There’s a part of us that will always be tied together.”
“So it’s able to pull things into the shop,” Owen said. “Like your tarot cards.”
Florence nodded. It wasn’t only things from Honeysuckle House; the shop had a tie to Evie and Clara as well. If something was connected to one of them, the shop could use it to cause mischief.
