I suddenly wishI’d brought my pepper spray along—the pink can Billy Wayne bought for my birthday after I was surprised by a skunk in my garage one night and just about had a panic attack.
“Unexpected good or unexpected bad?” I ask.
Maggie chuckles in amusement. “Unexpected good. It’s just Shelby McGowan. Tina’s daughter, Diana’s granddaughter. Sweet girl, but she’s never been here before, so that’s the unexpected part. Come on in, Shelby.”
“Yeah, she can’t hear you because you’re a cockatoo,” I whisper before putting on my “totally normal girl who doesn’t converse with cockatoos” smile and opening the door.
The woman standing there is about my age and looks just like her mom, short and curvy with wavy blond hair. She’s wearing black leggings, brown UGG booties, and an oversized pink sweatshirt with a couple of chocolate stains.
“Hi! You must be Rhea. I’m Shelby. Our grandmas were best friends. And our mamas, too. I hope this isn’t weird. Is it weird? I’m so sorry.”
The words tumble out of Shelby like a leaking pipe, and I smile and say, “It’s not weird at all. It’s real nice of you to stop by. Do you want to come in?”
“Yes, please! I always wanted to see inside this place, but your grandmother—God rest her soul, I am so sorry—kept it locked up tighter than a chicken’s butt. Or a parrot’s butt? I don’t know what kind of bird you’ve got, but she’s real cute. She’d match my bathroom perfectly. It’s all flamingos.”
I realize she’s never going to stop talking, so I open the door wide for her, glad that things are pretty tidy, thanks to Maggie’s ability to control her cloaca, unlike Doris, who when free to roam seemed to have a bull’s-eye for family heirlooms and cute shoes. Shelby steps inside and sets a white bakery box down on the counter, looking around with wide eyes.
“Dang, girl. It’s pretty in here! Get some new plants in those hangers, maybe a gold-framed mirror over there, some furry pillows, and it’ll be a glow-up. You’re so lucky! The apartment over my shop is so cramped. I’m a baker, by the way. Not sure what you like, so I brought a little bit of everything. Mom said you’d been to the bank, so I figured it would be safe to stop by. We never get new folks in town—well, except retirees, which is great for business, but not much fun, you know? Oh, and Nick said you were super sweet, and he’s such a good judge of character.”
“Does everyone in this town know each other?” I ask.
She nods solemnly. “Lord, yes. Everyone on the square, especially. All the businesses. Because so many of us live on the second floor over our shops, we’re all neighbors.”
“Did I mention she’s a flibbertigibbet?” Maggie says.
I wish the telepathy worked both ways so I could let her know that it’s actually comforting to have someone talk my ear off without a single word of admonishment. Honestly, Shelbyreminds me of Cait and Jemma—as in, she talks as much as both of them combined. I hover over the white box. “Okay if I open it? I never could resist goodies.”
She dimples and nods. “Please! The best part of baking is watching people eat. Not in a weird way. It’s just satisfying.”
“I always thought the best part of baking was eating what you’d baked while it was still hot enough to burn your fingers.” I untie the light blue ribbon and open the box, and let me just say I’m very grateful our families are friends. There’s an éclair, a donut, a vanilla cupcake, a plain croissant, a chocolate croissant, a bear claw, and one of those giant monster cookies that could feed a family for a week, studded with chocolate chips and M&M’s. I select the bear claw and bite it, eyes rolling back in my head. The closest thing we had to this sort of glutenous goodness in Cumberville was the bakery at the Piggly Wiggly. “I think you’re my new favorite person,” I mumble through the crumbs.
“Aw! You’re so sweet. I knew you’d be sweet. You know, our families have been besties for, like, centuries. I mean, our grandmas died together, like Thelma and Louise! Except on accident. Gawd, that sounded better in my head. I’m real sorry about Maggie.”
I almost say,Don’t be,until I remember that, for everyone else, Maggie is dead and gone and not just an annoying sidekick with a taste for mealworms. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, too. Your mom was really kind to me. I hope everyone’s holding up okay.”
Shelby waves a hand at me; her eyes are wet and pink now. “Nope. Not a chance. My granny was real young at heart and busy as a bee, and I keep thinking I hear her right behind me when I’m alone in the bakery, but then I remember, and…” Shewaves a hand as if dispelling an annoying cloud of smoke and sits on one of the kitchen stools and puts her elbows on the counter. “Well, dust to dust, right? I’m not gonna cry about it today. Again. What’s done is done. She lived a good life, but we’re here now. So you’ve got to tell me everything and take my mind off it. Where’s your mama been all these years? What’s your life like? And what’s your knack?”
I just met her, and she’s asking for not just a story but a whole book. Except—
“Did you just ask about my…?” I trail off. I don’t want to choke on this bear claw.
She gestures to the baked goods. “Your knack. Mine’s baking. Obviously. My grandma had endless energy, and mom’s real good with paperwork. And I’m assuming you have the magic, or we wouldn’t be talking about it. I’d be all—” She grabs her throat and makes frantic choking noises.
“So melodramatic,” my grandmother adds in my head. “Now how about some of that bear claw?”
I toss down one teeny-tiny crumb to shut her up and look to Shelby. “But you and I are allowed to talk about this stuff? I only found out about it yesterday, so I don’t know all the rules yet.”
“We both have magic, so it’s physically possible. Talking about it is considered tacky among the old folks, but I’ve never understood why. ‘Magic stays in the family’ is how my granny put it.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’m an only child and I don’t know any other witches my age, and our families might as well be family, so as long as you’re not offended, neither am I.”
“I tried asking Nick and Nathan, and I totally choked.”
“As talented as Nathan is in the kitchen, they are both sadly lacking magic. Anyway,” Shelby goes on, “what can you do? Ordo you know yet?” She leans forward, blue eyes alight, and I am overcome with the strangest mixture of shyness and pride.
“I’m just figuring it out,” I admit. “But I think it’s…books?”
Shelby cocks her head. “Your magic is books? Like, writing them? Or making them appear? That would be real helpful with the library closed.”
I feel ridiculous talking about it. “So I have this little dictionary, and if I ask it a question, it kinda tells me the answer.” I glance at Maggie, hoping she’ll interrupt and give me a better way to explain it, because as it is, this does not sound properly magical.
