Page 6 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Pepper

While technically a “small town,” the city of Clover Creek was actually pretty big and had basically everything anyone could want or need without having to leave.

I loved driving through the streets as the sun was setting—a blanket of night settling over the quaint city like it was telling people it was time to slow down, take it easy, and relax for the night.

I had no plans of relaxing yet, but the sentiment alone warmed my soul in a way I’d been yearning for over the past ten months.

There were so many things I had wanted to do, but sometimes it was hard to decide where to begin.

Tacos felt like a good start. There was a place I loved to get them at, but would it still be in the same location?

Changes didn’t happen often in Clover Creek, but when they did, there wasn’t anything I could do about them.

But it also meant that each Halloween season was like an exploration.

What new hidden gem of Clover Creek would I find this time around?

The light on the corner of Plum and Kale turned red, so I eased to a stop.

It took me all of ten seconds living here to understand that fruit streets ran east to west and vegetable streets ran north to south.

According to Mrs.Turner, the school librarian, a long time ago this had all been farmland—or at least much of it was—although they didn’t grow all the things these streets were named after.

It had been a little over five years ago that on the corner here there had been Earl of Grey—a little tea place that tried to re-create that British feeling of a “posh”-style tea at any time of day.

They had these little cucumber sandwiches and petit fours that were all ridiculously overpriced, and the host was always dressed in a tuxedo complete with white gloves and a top hat and tails.

That should’ve been my first clue. No one who didn’t really want something in return would take a stranger there, but that was exactly where Kitty Jones had wanted to meet—her treat, she said, and I had wanted to check the place out, so I agreed. After all, what could be the harm?

“Isn’t this place adorable,” Kitty had said when I walked inside.

She stood and pulled me into a friendly hug.

It wasn’t the first time I’d talked to her or met her out and about in town.

I’d gone to The Dead of Night so many times that year, we were practically best friends.

I just didn’t know that she had already known me so well.

Probably for at least the three years I’d been in this town—not that I remembered her.

The reason we were even having that silly high tea was because she had confided in me about her family and the stories she told—oh, how I could relate.

Her situation sounded similar to mine—the whole reason I had moved to Clover Creek to begin with, hoping the space would help give me some peace, but it didn’t. Kitty had to have known.

“It’s so nice to see you,” I told her as I took a seat. She was wearing a plain T-shirt and pressed slacks. Her mousy brown hair was pulled up and away from her face.

“Yeah, this is what I look like when not at work.” She laughed a real hearty sincere kind of laugh.

Her attire was a far departure from the costumes she’d been wearing all season.

They were all quite elaborate affairs, too.

Willy Wonka, the Queen of Hearts, and her rendition of Glinda the Good Witch should’ve been the biggest clue as to who she really was.

“I bet this is more comfortable,” I said.

I took advantage of getting to dress up more than usual and sported my tulle pastel pink tea-length skirt and black-and-white polka-dot top, complete with elbow-length gloves and a vintage flower fascinator.

It was cute, and when would I ever have the chance to wear something like that again?

Well, except for on Halloween, of course—but it was fancier than a costume, so it completely worked for this occasion.

“My family wants me to move home,” she said abruptly as she poured us both a cup of tea, the scent of orange, cinnamon, and clove escaping as the clear amber liquid filled the cups.

I couldn’t help myself, and after removing my gloves and laying them fashionably on the table, I immediately reached for a little pink confectionary and took a bite.

White cake with a strawberry and white chocolate filling was my reward.

Perhaps the British were really onto something with this whole afternoon tea thing. “What did you tell them?”

“That they need to let me live my life. I know they mean well and all, but I’m happy here. This seems like a great place to live, you know. And I’m sure once the season is over, I’ll be able to get a job.”

That was what she had told me. It was her first year in Clover Creek, and she fell in love with it the moment she got there to help open the store.

Again, I knew the feeling. Clover Creek had so quickly become my home, so nothing she said made me question her.

“Didn’t you say you had marketing experience?

I think Grant Lai could probably use some help. ”

Being a teacher allowed me to know a little more about the town and who all lived there since I’d see their families at open houses, and the yearly haunted house, and all the performances my students did throughout the year.

“The owner of By Association?” she asked, and I nodded.

“You really think?” Kitty’s eyes grew two sizes.

That should’ve been another clue that something was wrong with her.

Her facial features were small, almost ratlike, and her name, “Kitty,” I bet that wasn’t real either.

But it was a happy, friendly name. Who doesn’t trust a mousy girl with a name like Kitty?

“You don’t think it would be weird to talk to him about it? ”

“Nah,” I said. “Plus, then we could do stuff like this”—I gestured to the little spread in front of us—“more often.” I had thought I was welcoming her to town the way people at the school had welcomed me when I first got here.

I had thought she could be a good friend—and if I had been really honest, I did like her, a lot.

“That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Her smile was too big on her face, but I didn’t notice that then; I just smiled back.

“My mother told me I need to find a therapist.” I rolled my eyes.

“Is she still on about that?” Kitty took a sip of her tea, pinkie finger extended.

“Always.” I followed her lead and took a sip, too. Needed sugar—so I grabbed a couple cubes and dropped them into my teacup. “But I’m fine. It’s been years now, and I’m just fine. She thinks it’s weird that I never broke down and sobbed for weeks and weeks like she did.”

“Not everyone handles grief the same way.”

“That’s what I told her.” That was what I’d been telling Mom for years, so the fact that Kitty repeated those exact words should’ve hoisted the red flag all the way up the flagpole, but in the moment I felt vindicated.

“It’s like you wish they could just forget about it for at least a couple days, am I right?”

“Exactly. Like, can we talk about anything else for once?” I shook my head. Sure, Mom and I had other conversations, but it always came back around to that one thing—Mitchell.

“I might be able to help with that,” Kitty said.

I laughed. “Are you a witch now?”

She grinned. “Didn’t I tell you?” She laughed with me.

“Excellent. Then you can cast a forgetful spell on my mother.” I played along. “Maybe get me the winning lotto numbers, too, while you’re at it.”

“Midnight, November second, at the store. Be there,” she said.

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m serious,” she told me.

I shrugged. “Fine. What have I got to lose anyway? You break out the Ouija board, and I’ll bring the sangria.”

Her smile seemed real—it wasn’t forced or fake. “Perfect.”

A light horn tap brought me back to the street corner where Earl of Grey wasn’t anymore and now stood a bakery with perfect cupcakes in the window. I’d never been inside.

I waved, signaling I got the message, and pressed on the gas.

I’m sure the cupcakes there were fine—better than fine since that store had been there a few years now. A much more reasonable option than a “posh” tea shop in a small town where espresso was definitely king.

The pumpkin patch was ahead of me now, and then there’d be the haunted house. So many memories of that place and the hours I’d spent there swirled in my head. Now it was Christina’s job to ring in the holiday. A girl who said she didn’t even like Halloween.

I might not be remembered, but no one in town would forget if this year’s haunted house was a flop. It would ruin the holiday for everyone, and what would that mean for fundraising efforts in years to come? People counted on the haunted house and what it did for Clover Creek.

No. It couldn’t fail. I couldn’t let that happen. Halloween was too important to Clover Creek.

I had to do something about it.