Page 10 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 10

Ozan

The town is small enough that, of course, I’ll run into her. It’s inevitable. She doesn’t visit my shop for a few days, but we can’t avoid each other for long.

There’s one grocery store in Starbrook. The Greenes, a family of witches, own it. They’re good people.

It’s nice to be back to what I know. When I was young, I scraped up all my coins to buy candy bars here. Mr. Greene never made me feel bad for paying in dimes. Things have changed now. I walk through the aisles on a mission and with a list. No more candy hauls.

Beans. Carrots. Potatoes. It’s the perfect time of year to make a nice stew.

The aisles are small, and it doesn’t boast the same selection the bigger markets did in Boston. Everything here is fresh, in season, and more expensive than I’m used to. It’s worth it. I’m always going to support small businesses in town. That’s especially true now that I’m one of them.

I spot Juniper standing in the middle of the cereal aisle. Her hair is in a loose bun, and she’s dressed differently than I’m used to—in dark yoga pants and a crop top .

My cart comes to a halt. I should keep avoiding her. Juniper kept her final promise. She hasn’t come to the shop in five days.

Why am I counting?

I push my cart and look straight ahead.

“Nice to see you’re back to normal.” I can’t resist saying something as I pass by.

Even though my words are calm and quiet, she jumps out of her skin.

“Gods!” she yelps. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m not trying to scare you!” My lips twitch, even though she’s glaring.

“I thought I finally got rid of you.”

“Too bad. You didn’t.”

“That really is too bad.”

I bite at the inside of my cheek. I can’t linger for much longer. This is already the length of a conversation between casual acquaintances. She and I aren’t even that.

We’re in a neutral space now, and she doesn’t treat me with as much hostility. Sure, she isn’t inviting me to linger, but she isn’t telling me to fuck off either. It’s a start.

I grab a box of oatmeal and drop it in my cart.

“I’ll leave you to it.” I push forward.

“Wait.”

I almost don’t hear her. The word is so soft I wonder if she means to say it. I turn to her with crossed arms.

She looks different now, and it’s more than her toned-down appearance. I don’t realize until it’s too late. The stubborn way she holds herself has turned into something frail and soft. When she looks at me, her expression is vulnerable.

“What’s going on?” My voice softens, and my expression melts, too .

She stares at a box of fruity cereal. “What do you do when you feel like a failure?”

I frown. “You’re not a failure. Who’s making you feel like that?”

I hope it’s not me. She and I haven’t been getting along, but I don’t want to do anything to make her, or anyone else, feel like that.

“It’s not a who,” she says. “It’s a what. The shop isn’t what it’s supposed to be. It’s not what my mom wanted it to be, and...” She trails off, letting out a soft sigh.

“Don’t stop there.” I abandon my cart to move to her. “You can talk to me. I get it.”

“You don’t. Your business is?—”

“An anomaly. I was struggling in Boston.”

“You were?” She lifts her gaze and sniffles.

Her nose is red. Has she been crying?

“It was a disaster,” I say. “My boss was terrible, and I was stuck working for a company I didn’t care about.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Is it bad if that makes me feel better?”

“Nah. That’s human nature.” I uncross my arms. “Have you ever run a business before?”

“Are you going to tell me I’m unqualified?”

“No.” I smile softly. “Just that you have a lot to learn. We all do. You’re doing fine, all right? Stop beating yourself up.”

“I’ll try.” She smiles. It’s a rare sight, at least for me, but it doesn’t bring me joy. It’s a sad, halfhearted smile. “What am I doing wrong? Can you tell me?”

“No,” I say, “but I can give you advice if you really want it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I need it.”

Some would tell me not to advise the only competition in town, but I don’t care. I’ll do anything to make her smile a genuine smile.

“Your business is going through changes,” I say. “It’s going to be hard.”

“That’s it? That’s your advice?”

“That’s the biggest thing.”

“Is it the prices?”

“No. It’s going to be an adjustment period at first, but the prices are good. Pricing yourself too low makes it seem like your products aren’t quality.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well… they’re going to compare you to your mom—your mom’s prices and how she ran the shop. Hell, they’re going to compare your personalities.”

“Which couldn’t be more different.”

“Exactly. It will feel impossible to measure up at first. She had been running the shop for thirty years. Everyone in town knew and trusted her. They’re still getting to know you as a business owner and a witch, not as little Juni from down the street.”

“Then they’ll always see me like a kid? Is there nothing I can do to make them take me seriously?”

“I didn’t say that. You need to find a way to make it your own. Just because you’re doing it for her doesn’t mean you have to do it like her. That’s where you went wrong.”

Her shoulders drop, and her eyes turn misty. All of her unbelievable pride leaves her body. I nearly flinch at the sight of her falling apart right in front of me.

“I messed up,” she mutters.

“You didn’t.” I take a chance, tentatively squeezing her shoulder.

To my surprise, she doesn’t push me away. I still can’t believe she’s opening up to me like this. It shows how down in the dumps she is.

“There’s still time to make it your own,” I say. “Businesses aren’t built in a day.”

“I thought that was Rome.”

“Exactly. Your business is Rome.”

She sighs and rolls her shoulders. I let my hand drop away.

“You’re bad at this.” She gives me another small, sad smile. “But thank you.”

JUNIPER

My sisters are sitting in our kitchen when I carry my groceries inside. I can’t look at them. It’s been a long, hard week. I open the fridge and carefully set the egg carton down.

“I made cottage pie,” Maple says in her usual sunny voice.

For once, I’m not in the mood for her to cheer me up.

“Okay.” I hide my face behind the fridge door.

“It’s delicious,” Rowan says. I can feel her sharp gaze on my back.

“I’ll get some in a bit,” I say. “Thanks.”

I stand upright, closing the fridge and moving to the cupboard.

Passing up free food isn’t an option right now. Maple has an actual job. She’s not running the unprofitable family business. I was doing better with tips at the bar than I am now. At this rate, it will take years to get our business out of the red.

It isn’t helping me in any other way. I don’t feel more connected to my mother, and my mental health is taking a nosedive, too.

Today, I want to quit.

I hope the feeling passes in the morning, but I’ve never been more unsure about my path.

My conversation with Ozan is fresh in my mind, and it’s upsetting—but it was different than speaking with him typically is. He usually grates on my nerves for reasons I can’t describe. This is different.

When I look at him, I’m nothing in comparison. He’s the business owner I want to be. He’s in the place in life that I want to be. I can’t even be mad at him for what he said in the store. He was right. The shop doesn’t feel like mine.

I am a child trying on her mother’s clothes.

There’s a chance I’m letting Ozan’s advice get to me, which may be his intention. It would be a smart way to sabotage me. I don’t know. I can’t pretend to have the answers anymore. Nothing makes sense.

Without saying another word to my sisters, I serve myself a plate of food.

“How was the shop today?” Maple asks.

“Fine.” I clench my jaw.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to stop in,” Maple says. “I was tired after work.”

“It’s fine.”

Running upstairs to eat alone sounds tempting. Instead, I sit with them at the little, cluttered table. It’s more jumbled than ever, considering how busy we are. Laurel has a stack of records and music zines on the table now. That’s new. I guess she found something to spend her extra income on.

“It doesn’t sound like it was fine.” Rowan lifts a brow. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “That’s the problem. I thought we could come back with a bang…”

“And we did!” Maple says.

“But it didn’t last,” I say. “And I know why.”

“Do tell,” Rowan says.

“It doesn’t…” I hate that I’m going to quote Ozan. He really is getting to me. “It doesn’t feel like us . It’s still mom’s shop, and we’re just… parading around as her.”

Rowan frowns. “I don’t think that’s what we’re trying to do. We’re continuing her legacy. That’s what being a family is.”

“That’s not how other people see it,” I say. “Everyone is comparing us to her.”

“Is it so terrible if they do?” Maple asks. “It is her shop. I don’t want to get rid of the her -ness in it.”

“I don’t either,” I say.

Now that the question is out there, we go silent.

I don’t know about my sisters, but I spend our silent dinner questioning everything about our business.

It’s more than the business. I couldn’t say it to Ozan or my sisters, but it is. I’ve always known I’m not as good as my mother. She was a better witch, a better parent, and a better person. She’s not here, and I’m supposed to step up and be like her, but…

I can’t. I’m still not at that point in my life, and I may never be. There are days when I can accept it, but my expectations are crushing me this week.