Shelby waves as a pair of tourists exits the bakery. I feel like I’m choking on a live frog. They head up the sidewalk and out of earshot, and my throat is finally empty again.
“I wish we still had spells,” I say, much softer this time. “I bet there used to be a finding spell or something.”
Shelby looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “We still have spells. What are you talking about?”
That stops me. “Wait. What? Who still has spells?”
“Um, everyone? As far as I know?”
I am shocked, and the plot has thickened.
“But the Blakelys told me all the magic families had their grimoires ruined back in the nineties and nobody can do spells anymore.”
Her mouth snaps shut as she blinks ferociously. “Oh my God, that’s crazy! My mom and I still have our grimoires. My grandma did, too. We do spells all the time. I’d heard the magic was dying out, but…not like that.”
Mentally, I connect the dots and realize that Maggie must’ve told her best friend, Diana, what she was going to do at her ritual, thus allowing the McGowans to avoid the same predicament as the rest of the witches of Arcadia Falls. I had suspected that Maggie’s grimoire was intact somewhere, and now I know that at least three other grimoires remain functional: Shelby’s, Tina’s, and Diana’s.
“How did you not know about this?” I ask. “About what happened to everyone else?”
She shrugs. “Witches are secretive. We never get together or talk about anything, outside the family. The only reason you andI are having this discussion is because you’re tacky enough to ask—no, I don’t mind, but itistacky!—and because all the women in our families have been best friends for generations. It would just feel wrong not to be there for you with your mom and grandma gone, you know?”
I’m half annoyed and half ashamed, and I don’t enjoy either emotion. “I don’t mean to be tacky. There’s just so much I don’t know.”
Especially with Maggie avoiding me.
“But I don’t have a sp—” Shelby smiles as some teenagers walk by. “That thing that might help you. I haven’t heard of that sort of thing before, but it sure would be useful. I lost my keys one day and it turns out I’d baked ’em into a wedding cake. At least it was a bottom tier and not the one they’d put in the freezer to eat on their anniversary.” She leans in. “Even a spell can’t make me less forgetful. It still rose beautifully.”
I shake my head. “It’s just bizarre to me. The whole thing. Each family hoarding their books. My grandmother trying to destroy them. Why wouldn’t people want to share ways to make their lives better?”
Shelby cocks her head. “I guess so nobody gets too powerful? Or maybe it’s like…specialization. Like, Edie can sell anything to anybody—that’s her knack—but she didn’t start another bakery to compete with me, you know? She started a soap and candle shop. We all do different things.”
“Well…” I’m thinking out loud now, trying to work through my feelings. “It seems to me, as someone new to all this, that the old ways aren’t exactly working. The magic is disappearing, the young people are leaving town. One person tried to take control instead of spreading the wealth, and it caused ripples. Wouldn’t it be better if people helped each other and shared resources?”
Shelby looks utterly scandalized but also compelled. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? The only reason you wouldn’t want to share with me is because you want power over me, which would suggest you’re not that great a person.” She leans in. “So you don’t have a grimoire? Or any spells?”
I shake my head, because even if I did one spell, I didn’t write it down, and I forgot the details, and Maggie isn’t around to remind me. And she didn’t even tell me to write it down in the first place!
“Then,” Shelby says, “I’ll give you a spell for your toaster that ensures your toast is always perfect. How about that?”
Having lived with a terrible toaster for many years, I appreciate the bounty of this gift. “That’s really kind. I wish there was something I could do for you in return.”
She rubs her hands together. “You just keep those shelves stocked with rom-coms and have a generous used book return policy, and we’ll call it even.”
I hold out my hand, and we shake. “Deal!”
The cashier appears in the door to ask Shelby something about frosting, and she excuses herself to go fix the latest batch of cupcakes before an absolute baketastrophe can occur. I finish my donut and make a proper purchase at the counter, and Shelby reminds me that I absolutely can’t miss Craft Night. When I tell her I bought yarn just so everyone can see what a terrible crocheter I am, she squeals and does a little dance.
My phone pings again, and I look, hoping that maybe someone in the Chamber has found Maggie. But instead it’s a number I don’t know.
Rhea, this is Jemma on someone else’s phone because either you’re dead or you put us on DND again, and if you don’t text me back, I will send Officer Jimmy Wayne after you.
Not dead,I text back.Doing really well! But things are getting interesting. I’ll FaceTime you in an hour. Promise. Tell Cait.
She texts back a dozen exclamation marks and a skull.
Message received.
“Gotta run. Sister emergency,” I tell Shelby.
