“Stop.” Ethan bent and placed the goat gently down, giving it a small pat. Then he straightened to his full height,towering over her. His eyes were sharp and dark, no longer tired. “You don’t get to walk up here and lecture me on how I raise my family or run my home.”
“I’m not lecturing, I’m reporting. There's a difference.” Honey backed up a step now, the weight of the door at her spine. “Your well is flagged. My arrival is not a suggestion.”
He leaned forward just enough that she backpedaled. “And this is my door. My land. My family. You can file whatever report you want, but you’re not welcome here.”
“Mr. Hale, please be reasonable.”
“No.”
The door slammed in her face, and the wind chimes gave one startled jangle before falling silent.
Chapter 5
Honey
The sheer unreasonableness of their discussion had Honey’s body jittery with frustration. She unzipped her bag with short, jerky movements and yanked out her little bottle of hand sanitizer. She squirted a heavy amount into her palms, more than she probably needed, and scrubbed vigorously. The sharp alcohol smell filled her nose.
Honey had never seen such blatant rudeness. Small towns were supposed to be filled with helpful, polite people who dawdled, waved at strangers, and baked muffins for new neighbors. People liked to mock the city for its honking and occasional yelling, but at least there, everything made sense. You moved fast, said what you needed to say, and got on with it. It wasn’t personal. This, though—this was obstruction.
“Mr. Hale,” she called through the door. “I will be calling the authorities!”
She’d imagined a reasonable conversation, maybe some initial confusion, but followed by compliance. She would explain the purpose of her audit, and he, as a law-abidingcitizen, would show her around the property. There would be questions, paperwork, signatures. Order.
Instead, she’d been shut out. Literally.
Careful not to trip on the overturned tricycle, Honey made her way off the porch and down the path back to where Lou had dropped her off. On her phone, she navigated to her recent contacts and tapped on Officer Nolan’s name. Unlike Ethan, the chief had seemed cooperative when she’d spoken to him last week. He’d understood the need for oversight to make sure magic didn’t spiral into chaos.
She pressed call, only to get a busy tone.
She ground her teeth together. Fine. No problem. She could handle this. She’d check into The Inn Between, call the chief, and come back when someone with a badge had talked some sense into Ethan.
She switched to a rideshare app and waited for it to load available drivers. Honey figured she would lose half a day of work, but if she stayed late tonight, she could still stay on schedule. Whatever it took to restore order to this chaotic place.
Something in Honey’s peripheral vision made her glance up from the spinning wheel on her phone just in time to see a sandy-haired girl careening around the side of the house toward Honey. She clutched a dented tin bucket in one hand, the handle rattling with each stride. Corn kernels fell from the rim as she ran, leaving a trail of yellow splotches on the path.
This must be the middle Hale child. The other two shared the complexion of the father but this one, with her blond hair and big doe eyes, must take after her mother.
The girl skidded to a stop in front of Honey and thrust her free hand forward. “I’m Brooke.”
Her smile came a second too late as if she only just remembered it. She stayed like that, hand extended and smile plastered on while she waited for Honey to introduce herself.
“Honey Baxter,” she finally said, taking Brooke’s hand. She was surprised by the firmness of the grip and the way the girl met her gaze squarely. Honey glanced down at her phone again. Still no drivers. Just that same hopeless spinning wheel.
Brooke caught sight of it too. Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t go.”
“Actually, I can. I have to.” Honey wanted to say she’d be back but that felt kind of threatening, so instead she remained silent.
Brooke took a step forward, bucket bumping against her leg. “No, you don’t understand. My sister needs to talk to you.”
Honey adjusted her blazer, smoothing down the fabric, and pulled a business card from the small holder in her bag. “Well,” she said, handing it over, “if there’s an issue, you are welcome to file a report with the bureau. They handle all concerns within three to five business days.”
Brooke took the card without looking at it. Her eyes flicked to Honey’s phone again—still no ride in sight—and then down to her bucket.
Before Honey could take a step, the girl pivoted and flung the contents of the bucket in a wide arc around her feet.
