Page 6 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 6

Juniper

I’m on a fence between two options: find a new job or reopen the apothecary. The first option is a wiser financial decision. If I open the shop, there’s a potential I won’t make as much money as I need to. Running a business has too many question marks.

But can my mental health handle working another job I hate? I’m still unconvinced.

It’s early in the morning when I amble onto my front porch. The sky is gray, and it’s cold enough that I pull my cardigan tighter. Our porch is as cluttered as the rest of the house, but there’s something out of place among the chimes and potted plants…

A bouquet in a lovely white vase. I know who it’s from…and precisely what it means.

Few people know the perfect flowers to get someone who is mourning. That’s the job of a florist—or a witch. We speak the language of flowers unlike anyone else. This mystery person brought me carnations, daisies, and lilies. All white.

I know a funeral bouquet when I see one. We received many when the loss was still fresh. There is only one person in town who hasn’t already given us a bouquet…

Ozan is telling me to mourn my mother’s shop. That’s what this is. He’s rubbing salt in the wounds I’ve spent a year tending to.

My hands shake as I pick up the vase, lifting the tag to see who it’s from.

It has only two words written on it:

Condolences.

-Oz.

The fence I’ve been sitting on collapses beneath me. I slam the front door shut. My mind is made up when I get into my car and drive to town.

More specifically, I head to his apothecary.

It’s early enough that his shop is closed. I peer into the glass, and there he is, pouring herbs into jars. I’ve never seen a more peaceful sight. His little brown rabbit hops around the shop without a care in the world, and—all right, the bunny is cute.

But the man? He’s on my list.

I rap my knuckles against the glass. His head jerks up, and dark, wide eyes meet mine.

His surprise turns into amusement, and his eyes crinkle as he greets me at the door. Why is he so happy to see me?

He must be a masochist.

“You’re here earlier than I expected,” he says.

“Of course, you’re expecting me.” I hold out the vase. “Is that what this is about? A desperate attempt at getting my attention? ”

“They’re flowers.” He rolls his eyes. “And there was a card—you know what it’s about.”

“I’m here to return them.”

“No, thank you. I have a strict return policy.”

I step closer, and he steps back, letting me into the shop.

“We’re running into a problem,” I say. “You won’t take this back, and I have no interest in your pity. Where do we go from here?”

“They aren’t pity flowers.”

“What are they?”

“I heard about your mother.” His smile dissolves. He looks away, moving behind the counter to busy himself with the jars of herbs. “I didn’t know. Honest.”

“Sure, you didn’t.”

Everyone knows. It’s a small town, and people talk—even when the topic of gossip is grim. Ozan may have just returned to Starbrook, but I’m positive someone told him.

“I didn’t. My parents weren’t even aware. They told me the store had been closed for a year. I thought she retired.”

“She did. Death is the ultimate retirement.” I cross my arms and look away, staring at the display of old keys.

“The flowers are to show my condolence. There’s no ulterior motive.”

I scoff. “Do you mean to say you wouldn’t have opened your shop if you knew she…”

I can’t finish the sentence.

“I don’t know what I would have done, but it would have been different.”

At least he’s honest. His warm eyes bore into me.

“How?” I ask.

“I would have talked to you about it first, especially if I knew you were planning on opening up the ol’ apothecary again. You know I love that place. I have good memories there.”

“Oh?” I lift a brow. “Like what?”

His cheeks turn red. “Uh…” He shrugs. “Learning how to read tarot. Your mom did a class every summer.”

“I remember.” I move closer, resting my hands on his table. “Stop trying to butter me up. There’s nothing you can do to make me happy about this.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. All I’m doing here is running a shop. People need supplies.”

“I know,” I say, “and I’m going to make sure they have them.”

“Are you?”

“I am.”

“Good for you.”

I think back to Laurel’s tarot reading. She said I was going to reunite with someone from the past—and I guess she was right—but she didn’t see that it’s not about the person.

It’s about reuniting with something from the past. Our family apothecary. That’s what I’m focusing my energy on.

I set the flowers on his table. “You sprung for the vase. I’m impressed.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t want it. It looks nicer in here.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t keep that here. You’ll have to throw it away yourself if you don’t want it.”

I narrow my eyes.

We both know it isn’t an option. If my mother taught me one thing, it was to make use of any and all ingredients.

“Are they edible?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “They’re commercial, from the Main Street Florist. Full of pesticides. ”

“Great.” I roll my eyes. “You have bad taste in flowers, in addition to everything else that is wrong with you…”

“They still have their uses.”

“You don’t need to tell me about potion ingredients,” I say. “These can’t be used for any potion that needs to be consumed, which is most of them.”

I know the use of each flower in the vase. Daisies are for love, fertility, and joy. They expand upon the potion. Lilies are repelling. Carnations are perfect for healing.

“They can still work for spells,” he says.

“I’m not a spellcaster. You are. Goddess, even the gifts you give are selfish.”

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want to waste those if I were you.”

“I can’t trust ingredients coming from you. Source matters. You should know that.”

“Cleanse them.” He lifts a brow.

It’s an obvious answer, but he shouldn’t point it out as if it is!

“Brilliant,” I say.

“If you’re going to keep dragging your feet with your grand reopening, you should get used to getting your ingredients from me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lupine is the only apothecary in town these days…”

“We’re opening next week,” I say.

We’re not. Maple and I briefly discussed the opening, but we don’t have any solidified plans. I think a week should be enough time.

“What?” He lets out boisterous laughter.

“Why are you so surprised? It’s not as if we have a lot to do. Preparations will be easy…”

“You can’t reopen in a week. ”

“Why? Does that get in the way of your opening?” I lean in. My face is inches from his. “Good.”

“No.” He smiles. “That won’t be a problem for me, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with me. You said you’ve been planning this for a while, right?”

“Right!”

Wrong . When my mother died, I decided never to open the shop again. I can’t sell it either. It wasn’t until this moment that I knew it would be reopened, and now, there’s a new fire in me.

I turn on my heel and snatch the vase right back up. “I’ll be taking this.”

“Good. I got it for you.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“ Great .”

He’s annoying—and I want to tell him, but the words are lost in a huff as I storm from the shop. He hasn’t opened for the day, and a small group of witches is already waiting outside.

I hate when Ozan is right—and he is in this case. The people of Starbrook, and the surrounding towns, need their supplies. I’ve been ignoring them, but I can’t keep doing that.

I can’t give up on my mother either.

“Are they open?” An unfamiliar witch peers past me into the glass.

He won’t be opening for half an hour, but while I’m here… I’ll make his day more challenging.

“Yes,” I say. “Go on in.”

I stride to my car, and once seated, I send two texts to Rowan.

Juniper

I need your help.

With finances.

Scratch that.

I need your help with a BUSINESS.

I meet Rowan at our apothecary. This is happening too quickly, but I’m the one pushing it. I’ve gone from avoiding the place for a year to visiting twice in a day. I’m still uncomfortable here, and it seems like Rowan is, too.

She walks through the apothecary as if she expects the floorboards to disappear underneath her. Each step is delicate and calculated.

Rowan is about my height, but she’s thin and sprite. While I started dying my hair black years ago, she still sports her natural auburn—and a pair of baby bangs.

“It smells like mom in here.” Rowan frowns as she walks through the room.

“I know. It feels like her, too.”

For a spell, I only hear the furnace radiating and Rowan’s hesitant steps.

Whether being reminded of our mom is good or bad—I can’t say. I’ve spent a year running away from her, but it’s hard when I’m living in her old house. Now, I’m thinking about reopening her business.

Others who lost their parents say they forget them with time. They can’t remember the way they smell, sound, or laugh. I can’t imagine getting to that point. Everything about my mother is still etched in my mind—even the things I want to shake off.

Opening this shop means I’m intertwined with my mother in a way I never wished to be. It’s my choice, but it’s hers as well. She was the one who left me with this place.

I always loved her, but I hoped to be my own person… and my own witch. She was one of the most prolific witches in Maine, and I am constantly stuck in her shadow. We all are. I can still break free from that, but the pressure to carry her legacy is unbearable.

Why did she pick me to run this place? I don’t think she was trying to leave me with another burden, but she did.

Her death came too suddenly, and we never had time to talk about any of this. I never agreed to run the apothecary. Maybe she would have asked me about it…

If that demon didn’t take her from us so early.

“Is this the business you wanted to ask about?” Rowan looks at me over her spectacles.

She’s always been too perceptive—but I guess it became clear when I asked her to meet me here.

I nod, holding my breath.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It’s a big responsibility. You remember how much mom worked.”

“At least I don’t have five kids to take care of.” I smile halfheartedly.

“You’re right. May as well count our blessings, I suppose.” She sighs and strides to the office.

It’s a wreck. The office was always messy, but I don’t remember it being this bad. There are papers strewn about. A floorboard is lifted. The filing cabinets are open, with thick files making it impossible to close. The desktop computer is ancient, and the layer of dust will likely set off my allergies. I’m surprised Rowan didn’t come in to tidy the place up sooner.

At least I’m not the only sister avoiding her.

Rowan rifles through the files.

“Her books are a disaster,” Rowan says. “You wouldn’t know it, but this place was leaking money for years.” She slaps a crumpled piece of paper on the desk and smooths it out.

I look over Rowan’s shoulder. Even with my mother’s chicken scratch handwriting and my lack of expertise, I can see the problem.

“She’s been operating at a loss?” I ask.

“Mhm. If we reopen, we’ll have to raise the prices. That’s the only way we can make a profit.”

“Wonderful…” I sigh.

Rowan looks up at me. Her glasses slip down her nose. “You’ve been visiting Ozan’s new apothecary?—”

“I haven’t.”

The vase of flowers sitting in the main room says otherwise. I intend to dry them as soon as possible, but the conversation with Rowan has me sidetracked.

“Sure.” She eyes me up and down with a blank expression. “Have you looked at the prices over there?”

Of course, my most perceptive sister can see through me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No…”

“You should next time you go over. We’re raising our prices, but we still want competitive pricing compared to him.”

“You can’t just check for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She smirks. “Because I don’t want to. ”

My sisters are all grown up now, but there are moments when I feel like we’re still the same people we were when we were young. We love pushing each other’s buttons; the younger ones are especially frustrating.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I’ll help with the numbers,” Rowan says. “I’m not leaving you here to drown. It will take a lot of work to get her records up to date, preferably in an actual bookkeeping program. From here on out, you can consider me your accountant.”

My eyes light up. “Really?”

“Of course.” She looks away from me and picks at the lint on her sweater. “It’s not as if you can afford one.”

I wince. “That’s true. It sounds like I can’t afford much of anything.”

She meets my gaze again, and while her stare is harsh, it’s earnest. “I’m not doing this for Mom. I’m doing it for you. If this isn’t what you want…”

“It is.”

“Make sure it’s really what you want. Running a business isn’t fun and games.”

“I know”—I let out a slow sigh—“and I still want to do it.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then I’ll help.”

It takes a few hours to wrangle the rest of my sisters into the shop. There’s no hope of Aspen coming, but I ask her to join us on Facetime.

Her response makes me roll my eyes.

Aspen

Can’t. Can you send me an email?

At least she’s predictable.

I don’t know when I’m going to see my sister again. I hope she’ll return for Winter Solstice, an important celebration among many witches, but I don’t hold my breath for her anymore. She barely visited home before our mother died, and last year, she jetted off to Paris to avoid our loneliest holiday season yet.

Laurel and Maple have no problem joining us. Maple finished work early in the morning, and Laurel…

Well, Laurel is unemployed, but she’s still the last to come. Her boots stomp against the wooden floor as she runs inside.

“Oh, my god!” she yelps. “It’s open!”

“Not quite,” I say. “We’re nowhere near ready.”

Laurel crosses her arms. “My tarot reading was right.”

“Tarot reading?” Rowan lifts a brow.

“The cards were right,” I say, “but your interpretation was incorrect.”

“It was close. It’s a return of the past, like I said it would be.” Laurel inhales deeply and wanders through the tiny space. “And it’s emotional.”

It’s lonely . The jars are empty. The only spot of life is the flowers I placed on the countertop. They’re pure white against the dusty, rustic shop. Their energy is lively compared to the staleness in the room.

I still won’t thank Ozan for the bouquet.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Maple says, sitting behind the counter. “Are we reopening the apothecary?”

Maple and Laurel seem more eager than I am. Their eyes sparkle. Mom should have given them the shop. Why didn’t she?

“I want to,” I say, “but I can’t do it without your help. Rowan is helping with the books and numbers?—”

“What can I do?” Maple asks.

Of course, sweet Maple is on my side without me explaining myself. She agrees even faster than Rowan.

“Um…” I let out a flustered laugh. “This is my first time running a business. I’m not sure what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Maple says. “We need to contact the suppliers—and start whipping up potions and spell kits…”

“And I need to organize the books,” Rowan says.

“And I”—Laurel flips her hair over her shoulder—“will do the hardest part of all.”

“What is that?” Rowan asks.

I would consider Rowan’s job the most burdensome, considering the state of our finances. Rowan likely agrees, but she lifts a brow rather than saying as much to Laurel.

“Marketing,” Laurel says. “It’s all online now.”

I frown, considering her offer. “Actually… that’s true.”

“Oh, trust me. I know.” Laurel slips her phone from her pocket. “I can get us on socials in no time. I always wanted to do it for Mom.”

“Good idea.” I smile proudly, my gaze moving over each of my sisters. “It’s going to be different this time. Ro says we need to raise the prices.”

Maple grimaces. “It’s a necessary evil. Mom hasn’t raised them since the 90s.”

I nod. “She was operating at a loss—but we still have a house to renovate.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Rowan says. “And there’s still the matter of actually running the place. Day-to-day operations. If those aren’t on point, nothing else matters.”

“That will be on me,” I say. “I’m between jobs right now, and I intend to make this place my full-time job.”

“It will be splendid!” Maple says.

My gaze drifts back to Laurel. “And maybe…”

Laurel looks up from her phone. “You want me to work the counter?” Her voice goes flat.

We all took turns working the counter in our teenage years, and Laurel was always the best. The customers like her, and most people around town know her. That doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Her attention moves fast, and she gets stir-crazy in the cramped space.

“I’ll be working with you,” I say. “You’ll never be alone. Almost never…” I mutter the last words under my breath.

“Fine,” Laurel says. “But if I’m doing something for you, I want to do something for me, too.”

“Like what?” I ask.

Laurel lifts her head higher. “I’m the new tarot reader. If someone wants a reading, they’re coming to me .”

My eyes widen. “Really? That’s a massive responsibility. You know how many people come in for readings.”

“I know,” Laurel says. “I’ll take it super seriously, I promise.”

I hesitate. “Okay…”

“I still don’t know my specialty. I’m good at tarot readings, but… I need more practice. For now, I can offer discounted readings.”

“And I can help with the herbs!” Maple says. “I know plenty of suppliers, and I may be able to get us a deal.”

“I can make cosmic charms.” Rowan sighs. “On the weekends. When I have time.”

“You’re already doing a lot.” Laurel’s brows furrow .

“I want to help.” Rowan shrugs. “My day job comes first, but I can make time.”

“You’re all helping. More than you know.” I look away from them and stare at the vase.

My heart pounds.

“Who are those from?” Laurel asks.

“Juni has a secret admirer.” Rowan snickers.

“Oh! Who is it?” Maple gasps.

“No one!” I turn away, crossing my arms. “They’re flowers for mourning. Someone just found out about Mom.”

The room goes silent.

“Well,” Laurel says, “Mom would want us to revive her passion project. Where do we start?”

“Market research.” Rowan smirks. “Juniper is going to go check the prices at the new apothecary. Why don’t you join her?”

Ugh. Right. I still have to visit my so-called secret admirer.