“So, ah, how long have you been a witch?”I manage, coming around the counter and standing there awkwardly.An old-fashioned bead curtain separates the front of the café from the back room, and Tara holds it back for me to step through it.
There’s a set of commercial ovens, counters and fridges, and everything is sparkling clean and brand-new.A little table with fresh flowers is wedged in a corner with several chairs around it and a white and black checkered rug underneath.
“This is so nice,” I say, interrupting my own line of questioning.
“Well, the original burned down a couple years ago, but insurance did its job and then some, thankfully.”
“This is an excellent potion-making space,” Prudence says.
Tara and I share an amused look.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be used to the talking cat,” I tell Tara.
“Well, that makes two of us.”She pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down as she whirls around, putting together a tray of pastries that smell absolutely delectable.
Prudence sniffs around, and I have to say, other than the fact she’s rude, she’s pretty well-behaved as far as cats go.I have a feeling she’d consider it beneath her to pee on stuff or hack up a hairball.
“As far as how long I’ve been a witch, you know, that’s… a bizarre subject.Suffice to say I had to sort of come to grips with… paranormal things about the same time this place burned down.My aunt Tilly always said we had power, but I just chalked it all up to her, er, eccentricities.”
“Tilly is important,” Prudence tells us, washing her whiskers on the chair opposite me.“We should talk to her, too, human.”
“Am I human?You’re just calling me human now?”Honestly.
“Apologies, Sylvie.”Prudence doesn’t sound sorry at all, but I’ll take it.
“So you know how to handle whatever evil spirits are haunting the bookstore?”I ask Tara, hope and fear making my stomach roil.
She sets a carafe of coffee on the table, alongside a pretty silver creamer boat and matching sugar cube holder.
The huge platter of Czech pastries follow, and they are literally perfect.You can’t grow up in Texas and not know what a kolache is, but Tara’s kolaches?These suckers are next level—I can tell just by looking at them.Fluffy yeast dough, the perfect amount of filling, all baked to a glistening golden perfection.
Evil spirits be damned, I’m in kolache heaven.
“I can’t say I have extensive experience with ghosts, but I have had experience with ghosts.The trick seems to be finding out what they want.After that, they either go away to rest or to the next plane or who knows?—”
“You need a familiar, too,” Prudence mutters, but it comes out slightly garbled thanks to the fact she’s whiskers-deep in a saucer of milk.
“I wouldn’t mind some help,” Tara tells her tactfully.“Especially if it’s worse than what Em and I have had to deal with.”
“Em?Aiden’s partner’s wife, right?”
“Yeah, she’s awesome.She owns the boutique hotel and basically is responsible for putting New Hopewell on the map.She had a major haunting issue when she moved here, too, but now her spirits just kind of hang out.The real problem was the guy who wanted to buy the property she wanted.The ghosts were more of a… package deal.”
I blink.“I’m not sure that makes sense to me.”
“I’m not sure any of this makes sense,” Tara agrees, then takes a huge bite of one of the cream cheese-topped kolaches.
I follow her lead and bite into a kolache of my own.Steam billows from the pillowy dough.My eyes fly wide open, and I cover my mouth with my hand, surprised at the sheer heat captured inside the deceptively cool roll.
“Sorry, I should have warned you,” Tara tells me.“It’s hot.”
“It’s so good,” I assure her from around my full mouth.
It is, too, freaking egg and sausage and cheese perfection.I close my eyes, just savoring it for a moment.
Sure, my life has taken a slightly—okay, very—strange turn, but I have a delicious kolache and hot coffee.
The little things—small pieces of normalcy and gratitude—matter.
