Under His Spell. Kristin Hardy

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged a shoulder. “When the time’s right.”

      “When the time’s right? That’s what you’ve been saying for almost four years.”

      “When I find a job down there.”

      “Have you been looking?”

      “Museum jobs don’t exactly fall off trees. I’ve been keeping my eyes open.” Lainie stopped in front of a storefront with the legend Cool Beans painted above a rendering of a steaming cup of coffee.

      “There she is.”

      Lainie turned to give a brilliant smile to the grinning, grizzle-haired man behind the counter. “Hey, George.”

      “You’ve got some kind of sixth sense, don’t you? I just pulled a pan of blueberry coffee cake out of the oven. I shoulda known you’d be here. What is it, some witch thing?”

      “That’s me, using my powers for baked goods.”

      “Hey, if you’ve got powers for baked goods, come over and do something about my oven,” he invited. “It’s been running hot for the last two months. I’ll pay you in coffee cake.” He waved the pan before her.

      Lainie sniffed blissfully. “My powers work best in the presence of an appliance repairman. Get one over here and I’ll come chant a success spell. For advance payment.” She reached for the pan but George pulled it back.

      “Nope, I’m not buying it. Maybe I’ll just stick with the repair guy.”

      “Probably best,” Lainie agreed. “Does that mean I don’t get any coffee cake?”

      “I don’t know. We start the new project next weekend. You gonna show?”

      “Have I ever let you down?”

      “Not so far,” he agreed, and reached for a plate. “So who’s your friend?”

      She grinned. “George, this is Liz from Boston. She was my college roommate.”

      “Any friend of Lainie’s,” he said, nodding at Liz. “What can I get you, young lady?”

      “Some of that coffee cake and a mocha, if you’ve got it.”

      “If it’s got coffee in it, we’ve got it,” he told her, putting together her drink with quick, economical motions.

      “Aren’t you going to ask what I want?” Lainie pouted.

      He set an already filled mug on the counter and put a slice of coffee cake beside it. “I already know what you want.”

      “Marry me, George,” she said seriously.

      “I couldn’t afford to keep you in coffee.”

      “Wow, that coffee cake was pretty amazing.” Liz patted her belly as they wandered along the Salem waterfront, past docks lined with fishing boats and white sailboats.

      “See? There are some good things about Salem.”

      “‘Some’ being the operative word. You really are just a small-town girl at heart.”

      “I’m not a small-town girl,” Lainie replied, stung. “At least not anymore.” She wasn’t. She’d left the tiny burg of Eastmont, Vermont, where she’d grown up, and she’d never once looked back. She was a cosmopolitan girl who knew her way around a Cosmopolitan, and she fully intended to live in the city one day.

      When it made financial sense.

      And if lately her visits to Boston had seemed mostly noisy and rushed, that was probably just coincidence. “I’m going to look harder,” she said, as much to herself as to Liz.

      “It’s about time.” Liz stared out at a nearby boat where a shirtless deck hand was raising the main sheet. “Yum. You suppose Popeye over there would give us a ride if we asked pretty?”

      Lainie grinned. “Down, girl. You’re cradle robbing. He happens to be in high school.”

      “How do you know?”

      “I know his parents.”

      Liz rolled her eyes. “Do you know everyone in this town?”

      “I know enough, and unless you want to get arrested, you might want to keep away from Jared. At least until he turns eighteen.”

      Liz squinted. “He looks older from here.”

      Lainie patted her shoulder. “It’s your eyesight, dear. Anyway, we’ve got a job to do before we can relax.” She steered them toward the shop-lined pedestrian street that circled near the wharf. “I’ve got to buy wedding and shower presents for my cousin Gabe’s wedding.”

      “I seem to remember you asking me up to have fun, not do your errands.”

      “But this will be fun, and you’ll find it even more satisfying knowing you’re helping me get a little item or two out of the way.”

      “Somehow I doubt it.”

      “Not at all. So, what should I get?”

      “Dish towels,” Liz grumbled.

      “Too boring.”

      “Candlesticks?” Liz moved to step inside the crafts store they were passing.

      “Wow, and you’re calling me small town,” she said firmly, closing the door Liz had opened. With a wave of her hand, Lainie headed toward an art gallery down the way.

      “Hey, he’s your cousin, you figure it out,” Liz protested.

      “It’s not like I was— ‘The Salem Witch’?” She stopped in front of a gift boutique and stared at the gothic letters painted on the window. “Is that like being the town mascot?”

      Lainie turned around and came back to her. “She certainly manages to show up here and there.”

      “You have an official town witch. Are you people nuts?”

      “Hey, you play to your strengths.”

      Liz opened the door.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Playing to your strengths. Maybe you can conjure up a present for your cousin. Among other things.”

      “It’s a gimmick, Liz,” Lainie protested, following her in. “You know this stuff doesn’t work.”

      “What? The woman who runs the witch museum says witchcraft doesn’t work? Aren’t you an honorary Wiccan by default or something?”

      “Oh, yeah, that’s me, the family witch.”

      “So you should feel right at home. Besides, every marriage needs a little magic.” Liz wandered along the wall, studying the candles СКАЧАТЬ