Interrupted Magic Karla Brandenburg (ereader for android TXT) 📖

no longer worried about what tomorrow would bring, something Kyle struggled with. “I think I’ve told you I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” We’d had this conversation before.

We finished eating in silence, and after Kyle helped me wash dishes, he made his excuses to go home. With a quick peck to my cheek, he was gone. I should have more than a kiss on the cheek from a man who was supposed to love me, but after four months, I wasn’t sure I cared anymore. In fact, I was pretty sure he didn’t care anymore, either. It was time we sat down and made a decision, one way or the other. Tomorrow would have to be soon enough.

I retreated to my workroom to pour candles and grind herbs for the boutique. Ash joined me, curling into her bed on the window ledge while she attentively watched the wildlife in the woods beyond the yard.

When Kyle didn’t appear for breakfast on Saturday morning, I did another pass through the workroom, where the books called out one more special order to be mixed. After I finished, I gathered my botanicals into a basket and called Ash to her cat carrier. I checked for movement in Kyle’s house across the street, and when I didn’t see any, I typed a quick text reminding him we had a Saturday game night date with our friends.

To my surprise, I got a return text suggesting he could meet me for lunch. Did that mean his mood had improved? Or was he as ready as I was to resolve the tension between us? Seeing his friends often helped. I stepped outside and found Kyle standing on his front porch. We both walked to the street but remained on our respective sides, a symbol of the divide that had grown between us.

“Lunch would be nice,” I said in response to his text. He stared at me a long minute, saluted and returned to his house.

The distance between us was growing farther every day.

At nine-thirty on this August morning, the humidity levels were already stifling with what promised to be a hot day. I walked the footpaths to town, onto Broadway, past the statue of the artist, whose interchangeable canvas today depicted the cobbled street and the downtown area.

The sidewalks on either side of the street were alive with tourists. The bakery always did a booming business before the restaurant beside it opened. The florist, like my shop, didn’t open until ten. A number of people went in and out of the five-and-dime, browsers who might cross the street to check out both the bookstore and the boutique-slash-gift store Cassandra and I owned.

When I reached Windfall, Cassandra had already opened and was positioned at her sewing machine in the front window, working on alterations.

“Early customers?” I asked, letting Ash out of her carrier.

Cassandra turned in her seat to face me and brushed a strand of ice-blonde hair off her face before she tightened her high ponytail. “What do you think about opening at nine every day during tourist season?”

“No objection, as long as you don’t mind if I don’t show up until ten. Are there people out shopping at nine o’clock?”

Her cheeks pinked beneath her foundation makeup. “I don’t know. I was here at nine-thirty, and nobody’s been in yet, but if anyone is, they’ll have a place to spend their money, right?”

I retreated to the backroom to feed Ash, who waited patiently beside her food dish. Once she was nose down, I glanced at the glass-faced cabinet that held the notebooks Nora had passed down for mixing bath salts and checked the level of Epsom salt in the plastic tub. The other half of the backroom was taken up with Cassandra’s overflow inventory of original clothing designs, more than usual with the approaching change of seasons.

I returned to the front of the shop, where Cassandra had resumed sewing. “I was thinking of moving the bath salts supplies home to give you more room in the back,” I told her.

“They don’t take that much room,” she replied without looking up. “Seems to me you’ve had a fair amount of sales from offering to mix a special blend for customers on-site—including repeat sales on the website. You can’t mix personalized blends if the ingredients aren’t in the store.”

“True.” I wandered to the botanicals display table to check inventory. I’d brought fresh bars of soap, candles and bottles of essential oils from home to restock, and made a note of which bath salts were running low.

The bell over the front door rang. Officer Roxanne Purdy stuck her head inside. “You ladies are open early. Everything okay?”

I still hadn’t gotten used to Roxanne doing the morning rounds through town instead of Kyle.

“All good,” Cassandra replied. “And so you know, we’re talking about opening an hour earlier.”

Roxanne pointed a finger at Cassandra and winked to acknowledge. She raised her head my direction. “How’s Kyle holding up?”

“Period of adjustment,” I replied.

She nodded. “Sucks. Give him my best.” With that, she left for the next shop.

“I’m here if you need to vent,” Cassandra said.

“I appreciate that, but you can see first-hand how he’s doing at game night tonight.” Hanging with our friends did Kyle a world of good, as it did for me. After growing up with no friends, I stopped to appreciate how much my move to Hillendale had changed my life. In addition to the friends I’d made, I’d inherited others through my relationship with Kyle. We’d established a standing Saturday night date once a month in order to maintain those friendships.

I retreated to the backroom to gather supplies, preparing for the Saturday influx of customers. I hummed, reminiscing about Windfall karaoke days with Nora, her way of energizing herself when the gift shop had been bustling with people. The impromptu singalongs had fallen by the wayside after she’d retired.

Ten o’clock rolled around while I stocked my product. Customers wandered in to browse. Our Saturday had officially begun.

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