Page 44 of Crossroads Magic
Chapter Thirteen
I braced myself as we stepped into the bar, but the eight hikers were gone and the bar was quiet. The tables had been cleaned and separated and the chairs settled under them as far as the round back and arms would let them.
I glanced at the side door. Clearly, the hikers had used that exit, They must have just left, or I would have seen them moving onto the greenway to continue their hike. “I didn’t think they’d leave for a while yet,” I said to Hirom, lifting my voice.
Hirom shrugged. “Think the company wasn’t to their liking.”
The four locals were at their table, still. Trevalyan raised a hand toward them. Broch nodded back. He looked relaxed, now.
Trevalyan put a veined hand on the counter. “Two of your best, good sir.”
“Knock it off, Trev,” Hirom replied, but bent and lifted the brown bottle up. He pulled down two glasses and poured generously, then corked the bottle with a slap of his palm. “Thinks his shit don’t stink,” Hirom told me with a confidential tone. “All coz umpty ump generations back, some lord had his way with Trev’s great ancestress.”
“He married her.” Trevelyan held one of the glasses out to me.
“Eventually,” Hirom said. “Like none of us can’t trace our history back to jolly ol’ England, sooner or later.”
“I think my ancestors were on the Mayflower.” I sipped, and enjoyed the taste.
“You’re guessing, or you really think so?” Hirom asked.
“My mother was vague about it, but…” I frowned. “There was a Crackstone on the Mayflower passenger list. I don’t know if that was our family, though.”
“It’s not a common name,” Trevalyan pointed out. He took a long mouthful of the whisky and let it linger before swallowing. “That is a mighty drop, Hirom.”
“I used your old socks. That’s probably what you’re tasting.” Hirom’s face was expressionless. “Man’s got no tastebuds,” he added to me and winked.
I pressed my lips together to stop myself laughing.
“Mom! There you are!” Ghaliya called out from the door as she hurried through it. She carried a spiral bound notebook, one of the big ones with subject dividers and enough pages to intimidate anyone. The cover looked scuffed and the corners were bent.
Ghaliya put it on the counter beside me. Her eyes were dancing. “You won’t believe what I found!”
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Fine. I’m fine.” She patted the notebook. “This was in Nanna’s stuff that you put the floor. It fell off the top of the pile when I went past just now. Must have disturbed the air or something.” She opened the cover.
I couldn’t remember a notebook that big, of that color, sitting on top of any of the piles, but Ihadbeen rearranging them and sorting them this morning before I’d got the call from Hirom that Olivia was waiting in the parking lot.
I bent over Ghaliya’s arm to look at the front page. Again, it was not blank, with a name and address, the way I’d always tagged any notebooks I’d owned. My mother’s handwriting filled the page, but not in a solid block.
A list of items ran down the middle of the page, with a paragraph beneath them.
“Recipes?” Hirom asked. “That would explain why there are no cookbooks in the kitchen.”
“Recipes for spells,” Ghaliya intoned, with a huge grin. “This first one is for hiccups.”
“Anyone can cure hiccups,” Hirom said dismissively.
“This is togivesomeone hiccups,” Ghaliya shot back. She looked very pleased with herself.
“If there’s a spell in there for turning lead to gold, you will let me know, hmm?” Trevalyan asked. He was smiling, too.
Ghaliya rolled her eyes.
“Trevalyan, this is my daughter, Ghaliya,” I said.
“Yes, I can tell.” Trevalyan gave Ghaliya a little bow that was mostly a nod of his head.
