Page 4 of Hexed & Hazy

But I have no time to see who’s bothering me.

I sweep into Aphrodite’s Cove, my boots clicking against the floor as the door swings shut, blocking the harsh Maine winter. I scan the area, my eyes narrowing as I look for her—Aspen, my middle sister.

She looks right at home in the pastel boutique she owns. Her pink outfit matches the walls to a T. Her romper has a heart-shaped cutout across the chest, and despite the outfit being far too cold for the season, Aspen always looks perfect. Her hair, a lighter red than mine by several shades, is blown out meticulously—not by her, of course. No, she gets it styled twice a week at a nearby blowout bar.

Aspen may have moved back to Starbrook and left the land of high fashion, but compared to the rest of us, she still lives like a celebrity.

“There you are.” She shuffles closer and wraps me in a hug, clinging tightly, as if we haven’t seen each other in ages.

In reality, we had breakfast together this morning. She’s always been one for dramatics.

Aspen no longer stays at the house with Juniper, Laurel, and me, but she lives in a cottage on the property. That means she’s usually around—especially when free breakfast is involved—and she often has her hungry werewolf husband in tow.

“Here I am.” I stiffen under her touch until she pulls away. “What do you need?”

Another emergency? Call Rowan. Juniper may be the oldest, and she certainly views herself as the most responsible, but when everything is going wrong, I’m the one my sisters lean on. At least, that’s true in situations like this. I may not be the best at offering emotional support, but I can help with most of their business problems.

“It won’t take payments.” She gestures to the register I had set up for her.

It’s not so much a register as a tablet with a scanner, which is what most shops have these days—especially shops that sell expensive wedding dresses and other garments. It’s not as if they’re going to pay for that in cash.

“What error is it giving you?” I slide behind the counter and turn on the device.

“I don’t know. It just won’t… won’t process anything. I had a customer run to an ATM to pay me—can you believe it?—and in an hour, a bride is coming in to pick up her dress. But she won’t be able to pick up her dress because she can’t pay me.”

“Aspen—”

“I can’t expect her to go to an ATM and walk around with that kind of money. Don’t be silly.”

As if I was going to suggest that.

My expression flattens, and I look up from the tablet. “Aspen. Your Wi-Fi is down.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Wi-Fi. The thing enables you to process payments. It’s down. Fix the Wi-Fi, and you’ll be able to take payments again.”

“But how do I do that?”

My phone buzzes once more.

“I don’t know. Let me do some troubleshooting. Worst-case scenario, we’ll have to call the company, but we can avoid that.”

“You’ll fix it? Really?”

“No promises.”

I already spent a full day working with my other clients—clients who pay me to fix their accounting problems, not their technical issues. But for family, I often end up helping in ways that aren’t in the job description.

Troubleshooting with Aspen quickly turns into twenty minutes on hold, then another forty minutes on the phone with her service provider. Finally, the Wi-Fi comes back up just as the bride arrives—ten minutes late, which is a blessing in this case.

“Thank you,” Aspen gushes. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Uh-huh. You can make the call yourself next time.”

I’m not the one who signed up for everyone in my family to open a business. Juniper and Maple own the tavern, Juniper’s husband runs the apothecary, and Aspen has her boutique. What’s next? Maybe Laurel will open a gym. My role is supposed to be minuscule; I’m an accountant. I’m good at it, if I say so myself, having been doing it for a few years now.

But instead of taking care of the books and taxes, I’m constantly putting out fires.