The Hidden Grimoire Karla Brandenburg (best color ereader TXT) 📖

I walked inside, Ash jumped out of her basket, waiting to be fed. I set my things down, took off my coat and put out food for her.

No time like the present to ask Nora about Kyle’s latest idea. I called to ask her.

“Before you came to town, I didn’t do much for the holiday,” Nora said. “Fletcher’s people choose to be thankful every day rather than on one day out of the year, and that one day everyone else celebrates isn’t a positive remembrance for them. Not everyone combines families for holidays. We can still get together if you want, but I think it best not to try to bring oil and water together.”

I glanced out the window. Kyle walked out of his house, locked his door, and waved to me. Could we have a normal life with the history between our families? Then again, my life hadn’t been normal since my parents died. I was pretty sure Kyle’s life hadn’t been normal after his mother died, either. Did he want a different normal, too?

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

When Kyle walked in, I relayed my conversation with Nora, watched his expressions for signs of disappointment. Aside from his subdued mood, he seemed to accept bringing everyone together wasn’t likely to happen. “So you and me and my dad?”

“I can cook, if you want me to.”

He glanced over his shoulder, out the window. “If we intend to start new traditions, a restaurant might be the best option.”

New traditions. New memories. Together. Neither of us had grown up in a traditional setting. My heart ached for him. We had the opportunity to make a better life for both of us. “I’m in,” I told him.

He let the subject drop, and we spent a quiet evening together.

OPAL LARSEN’S FUNERAL was scheduled for Thursday, with visitation ahead of the service. I stopped at the church on my way into town to pay my respects to Cassandra’s family. Many of the local merchants were there and, like me, they didn’t stay for the funeral. When I unlocked the door to Windfall, the other shops were also opening.

After three days in the shop without Cassandra, I was edgy. I found myself watching out the window for Jason to show up and threaten me again, or that woman’s unknown sister to put in an appearance and blindside me. I tried to tell myself I had nothing to worry about, that if evil was pursuing me, I would sense it the way I had over the summer. For distraction, I grabbed a basket of painted pinecones and sat down to make them into Christmas trees and flower arrangements. Ash rose from her rug to settle in my lap, purring.

A surge of customers came into the store around lunchtime, leading me to believe the funeral had ended. As I sold the special orders I’d mixed, the air seemed to shift. When I looked up, Jason and Georgia wandered the store. He hung back, inspecting the merchandise and watching while I transacted my business. When the customers had cleared out, Jason approached the sales counter, carrying Georgia.

“Three times in one week,” I said. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Georgia pouted. “Sock monkey.”

“She had a toy that seems to have been misplaced,” Jason said. “I thought it might be here. Did you happen to find one?”

The display at the end of the counter was dwindling. The sock monkeys were one of the commodities Opal Larsen had provided.

“Didn’t you pack her toys?” I asked.

“Apparently I missed one.”

Behind me, Ash mewed. Georgia pointed and clapped. On the counter beside Ash’s rug lay a sock monkey. Ash carried the monkey in her mouth while it dragged between her legs, causing her to take comical, wide steps. I laughed, took the toy from the cat, and handed it to Georgia.

“Is that sanitary?” Jason asked.

“It won’t kill her,” I said.

Georgia reached for me. “Aunt Bwinn.”

“Aunt Brynn is busy,” Jason said evenly.

“No. Aunt Bwinn,” she repeated, leaning until Jason had no choice but to hand her to me.

Georgia cuddled into my neck.

“How’s LeAnne?” I asked.

“Fine.”

His curt response might as well have been a slap to the face. “What exactly are you afraid of?” I asked. “Enough to make you go out of your way to denounce your family?”

“Witches are heretical,” he said. “You should know that. My parents took you to church every Sunday. Certainly, something would have gotten through.”

I laughed. “You think I’m in league with the devil? Is that it?”

Ash jumped to the floor and lay down, inviting a pet from Georgia. I set Georgia beside her.

“As you can see, I survived church with your mother. No scars, no pillars of salt.” My sarcasm wouldn’t help my argument, and yet the bitterness wouldn’t be denied. “I learned about God from my parents, Jason. If your mother had been in charge of my spiritual guidance, you can be sure I would have turned out much differently.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I wasn’t going to get into this argument with him. They were his parents, after all. Instead, I folded my arms and stared at him.

“No,” he said. “I’d like to hear what you think. They did take you in and raise you when your parents died. Tell me how that makes them terrible people.”

“Your mother is a plaster saint, a self-declared martyr. She openly displayed her disdain for her poor, orphaned niece. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything they did for me, but their care came with a price.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “If they’re such wonderful people, why don’t they know about LeAnne? And Georgia? And the new baby?”

Jason’s face suffused with blood. “That’s none of your business.”

I heaved a sigh. “I hold myself to a moral standard, the same way you do. The fact I’ve inherited certain gifts that allow me to interact with nature in a different way doesn’t make me evil or someone to be reviled.”

Georgia jumped to her feet. “Don’t