Page 8 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 8

Ozan

Juniper wasn’t lying about the reopening. A week later, Starbrook is abuzz with news about their shop. Juniper stops coming by, too. I don’t know whether to be relieved or regretful, but my shop keeps me too busy to think about it for long.

I should be worried about the competition, but there’s room for us both. They offer things I can’t, after all. I don’t have Juniper’s potion expertise. The potions on my shelves come from another witch, which makes them more costly and less personalized.

But I have a cute bunny—and an adorable cat! They can’t beat the business Aiyla and Evren bring in.

My spell-casting expertise makes me stand out. As far as I know, none of the Hawthorne sisters can do the type of work I do. Any witch can cast a simple spell, like starting a fire. My casting is closer to rituals, which require intense raw energy. All types of folks come in to ask me for good luck spells, money spells, and help to attract a new job.

The shop is quiet today, which gives me enough time to focus on the promotion spell for today’s client—a vampire lawyer. I tie the petition to the candle, humming as I work. With skillful fingers, I roll the candle in the herbs—mint and rosemary, my preferred herbs for this kind of ritual.

I should be able to focus. It’s a simple spell. I’ve done it a hundred times for myself and others, yet my attention wavers. My head keeps lifting, and I look out the window without intending to.

I know why my shop is so empty. It must be opening day for the Hawthorne Apothecary. I should leave them to it. Their shop is probably overflowing, the way mine was a week ago.

Curiosity gets the best of me. What changes have they made? Did they come up with a new name or new offerings for their clients? I could learn about it from the usual town gossip, but that isn’t my style.

Before I know it, I’m slipping on my brown coat, locking up, and heading out the door. Their shop is a quick walk away. This is like taking an early lunch. No big deal.

Unlike the Hawthorne sisters, I’m not snooping because of some competition. It’s nostalgic for me; it must be for them, too. I miss the old shop.

The apothecary comes into view, and my eyes grow bright. The little place is overflowing, and even from the outside, I can spot all the sisters. Their vibrant hair makes them easy to find in a crowd.

One of them—Maple—stands outside the shop. I know her well enough, considering she was only a year behind me in school. I wave as I head toward her, and Maple returns the greeting.

We’ve never been close, but she’s always been friendlier than Juniper.

“Morning,” I say .

“Good morning to you!” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Are you here to join in the festivities?”

“Maybe. What’s going on in there?”

“Big opening day sale. Our prices will go up tomorrow but for today… we’re treating everyone to Mom’s old prices.”

I press my lips together. I shouldn’t say anything, but I already have my concerns. This adds to them. “Your mom’s prices were ridiculously low.”

“That’s why we’re raising them!”

I peer into the shop. A sale is a good way to get a boost early on, but I worry the crowd will thin in the upcoming days with the price change.

“Mind if I step inside?” I ask.

“Go on in!” Maple holds out a stack of flyers, and I take one. “We’re open for everyone.”

“Would Juniper say the same?”

“Maybe not.” Maple giggles. “Go in and ask her yourself.”

The flyer is unique. There’s a moth on the front, which looks hand-drawn—likely by Juniper herself. She was always the artistic type.

Hawthorne Apothecary Grand Reopening!

Everything is 25% off.

Potions, herbs, tarot readings, and more.

When I enter the lively shop, my attention shifts between the flyer and the crowd. It smells of pumpkin spice and incense, and the area is warm enough that my bones feel heavy as I walk through. Soft chatter and music fill the air.

The other sisters are scattered around. Laurel is doing tarot readings in the corner, their other sister is working the register, and Juniper is…

Well, she’s bumping right into me.

“I’m so sorry!” she yelps.

“It’s fine.” I instinctively reach for her, holding her elbows to keep her upright.

Juniper’s tune changes the second she realizes it’s me. How flattering. Her eyes narrow.

“Watch it.” She jerks out of my hold and steps away, only to fall into a humongous cauldron. “Oof!”

A big smile stretches on my face, but I fight off laughter as I grab her hands and pull her out.

“I don’t need your”—Juniper squeaks as I pull her to her feet—“help.” Her cheeks are as red as her hair once was. She brushes her hands down her dark skirt and shakes her head.

Of course, she doesn’t thank me. I’m not expecting her to.

“Sorry about that,” I say. “It’s packed in here.”

“Of course it is! Hawthorne Apothecary is an institution.”

“It is. I didn’t mean to sound surprised.”

Juniper is a frazzled mess—but a beautiful one. Dark hair is piled on her head, with loose tendrils framing her face. Her lashes are long and dark, and the black lip stain draws my eyes to her plush lips. My attention wanders lower. There’s a green stain covering her cream-colored dress, and—shit. I’m staring at her chest, aren’t I?

I don’t realize until it’s too late. My eyes flicker up to meet hers.

“What happened there?” I ask.

If my staring wasn’t blatant, the question makes it obvious. I regret it once I ask. My face feels hot .

She lifts a brow. “What? You’ve never spilled a potion before?”

“Nope. Never.”

“A sign you’re an amateur.”

“You’ll have to teach me more about potion spilling sometime. I didn’t realize it was a requirement.”

“Oh, you…” She tucks a loose tendril of her dark, wavy hair behind her ear. “Why are you here, Ozan? I don’t remember extending an invitation.”

“Isn’t this open for all? That’s what Maple says.”

“It is, but I wasn’t expecting to see you…”

She’s not telling me to leave. I should read between the lines. Between her snappy words and the frown on her lips, it’s plain that she’s unhappy to see me.

“I’m here to congratulate you.” I gesture vaguely. “This is looking like a successful opening day. Good job.”

“Oh, you are just…”

“I mean it!” My eyes widen. Even when I’m on my best behavior, I find a way to upset her. “It’s good to see you back in business.”

“You sound so sarcastic.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You have trust issues.” I shake my head, suppressing more laughter. “Who hurt you?”

“No one!” Her face pinches. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Congratulating you?” The laughter I’ve held back bursts out, unleashing without my permission. I doubt it will do anything to improve Juniper’s mood.

“Acting like we’re friends!”

“We don’t have to be friends,” I say, “but we can be friendly .”

“No, we can’t. ”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Her lips pop open, but nothing comes out for a few moments. “This is deliberate!”

“What is?”

“You moved here with the sole intention of upsetting me.”

“Can you hear yourself right now?” I tilt my head to the side. “Really. Listen to what you’re saying. You think I moved states to hurt you ?”

If she knew the reality of why I moved here, I think Juniper would have more sympathy. We’re both going through a loss, but it’s hard to see past your feet when you’re mourning the end of someone or something you care about.

“You’re right.” She shakes her head, deflating. “That was a bit far—but you definitely get pleasure from seeing me all… all… ruffled!”

“I do.” I shrug. “It’s cute.”

Her eyes widen, and her lips part. “I beg your most unbelievable pardon?”

“You get worked up easily. You always have. I think it’s funny. You’re like a bird with ruffled feathers.”

“Only around you. You’re the only one who does this to me.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You shouldn’t be!”

“Whatever you say.” I carefully step away; my eyes are stuck on her piercing gaze.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

It almost sounds like she wants me around. I know better than to say it out loud.

“You haven’t put me out of business yet. I still have a shop to run,” I say. “I’ll see you around, Juni. ”

I leave before she can get mad at me for using the nickname.

JUNIPER

We barely get a moment to breathe. It’s cathartic to see so many familiar faces popping in and out—and a few new ones, too. Witches from all over central Maine come to the grand reopening of the Hawthorne Apothecary.

As I told Ozan, it’s an institution. Even he couldn’t disagree with me.

I’m still reeling from the conversation with him when someone else approaches. At least this time, it’s a welcome face.

My mother’s old friend, Janice, visits us a few hours before closing. She’s the same age my mother would have been. Her hair is gray, and her face is wrinkled beautifully. Aging is a gift to witches. Humans buy anti-aging potions from us, but we rarely use them ourselves. Each wrinkle is a sign of wisdom.

I can still remember celebrating my mother’s first gray hair.

“I am so pleased to see Hawthorne Apothecary is open once more.” Janice holds my shoulders. “You did it.”

I let out a breath. Tension releases from me, and my eyes are misty again. It’s been a long, strange day of wearing my mother’s shoes.

“You’re pleased?” I ask .

It’s childish, but if I can’t please my mother... Janice is the next best thing.

Her warm, green eyes twinkle. “Of course, I am. Nothing makes me happier than seeing your mother’s legacy live on.”

“Nothing?” I lift a brow, smirking. “Not even being able to buy your herbs in town?”

“That is a close second.” She chuckles and glances in the corner of the room. “Is Laurel doing tarot readings?”

I nod. “She’s taking over Mom’s old position. She’s pretty good, too.” Aside from the dud reading she gave me.

“I’ll go see for myself,” Janice says, wandering away.

There’s no time for me to shake off the nostalgia and mourning before my eyes lock onto another familiar face. My lips part. Shock hits me like a burst of air.

“Denise?” I close the space between us, striding toward the crystal display she’s admiring.

“What?” My old boss turns to me with a smirk. “You didn’t think I would hear about this?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t realize news spread so far.”

“Well, it did.”

“And…?”

“I’m impressed.” She nods. “When I told you to find something you care about, I didn’t think this would be it.”

“Neither did I.”

“But you do care, right?” Something about the way she looks at me makes me uneasy. It’s not as if she has ill intentions. Her gaze sweeps over me, and it feels like she’s trying to figure me out…

Like she knows something I don’t.

“I do,” I say.

It doesn’t feel like a lie. Caring about the family apothecary is synonymous with caring about my mother. Of course, I care.

“Good.” Denise smiles. “I’m excited for you. If you need any help with the business side of things…”

“I still have your number.”

“Then I’ll be hearing from you.”

Asking Denise for advice would require swallowing my pride. That’s something I can’t do.

“Thanks for coming,” I say, brushing off the conversation. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

After closing, we return home to let the workers in. Opening the shop during kitchen renovations is a terrible idea; it means my schedule is busy. The bustle is preferable after spending too many days in the land of unemployment.

They’re working on our floorboards today, which leaves us huddled in our living room.

“I made five hundred bucks.” Laurel looks at us with wide eyes. “What am I supposed to do with all this?”

She sits on our living room floor, counting the bills on the coffee table. Maple rests beside me with her feet on an emerald-green ottoman.

“You can help pay for the floors,” I drawl.

Laurel pulls the money closer to herself. “I remembered something I need to buy.”

“Oh?”

I don’t expect Laurel to help. Mom didn’t leave us with much money, but we have enough to pay for the essential renovations. Laurel doesn’t have much income anyway. I won’t take what little she makes.

“She’s joking.” Maple dons a mirthful smile. “Spend it however you want to, honey. Rowan would tell you to save it.”

“I don’t want to do that either.” Laurel hums and stows the cash in her wallet.

I’ve been uncertain for the last week, but after spending the day with my sisters, I think we can do this. It won’t be easy. Maple stopped in after working another bread shift at the restaurant, and she’s exhausted. Rowan locks herself in her bedroom to hop on calls with her other clients—the real, paying clients. She’ll spend her evening working.

Other days won’t be like today. Laurel and I can run everything while our other sisters focus on their day jobs. Today showed me Laurel is ready for more responsibility. There were no customer complaints—in fact, she received rave reviews.

I’m proud of her, but none of us have the emotional capacity to say it out loud. The words catch in the back of my throat.

“Laur,” I say instead, “are you coming back with me tomorrow?”

“Sure. Do you think I can make another five hundred?”

“Probably not.” I snicker. “But if you work the register while I make potions, you’ll get your hourly pay.”

“Deal.”

A loud bang comes from the kitchen. I cringe.

“Everything all right in there?” Maple calls to the workers.

“All good!” someone calls back.

I shrug at my sisters. We have no experience; we’ll have to trust the professionals .

“I was thinking…” Maple says.

“Never a good sign,” I say.

Maple glares, but there’s no malice behind it. “I want to make baked goods for the shop.”

I lift my brows. “Really?”

She nods. “You know—charmed sweets for prosperity or to attract new love. Things like that.”

The sort of thing only a kitchen witch can make. Selling them at the shop is a sweet idea.

“Cold season is coming up.” I tap my lower lip. “Your health and wellness lemon bars would be perfect.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Laurel asks.

“I want to make the time,” Maple says. “I’ve been thinking about this for a few days. The apothecary matters to me, too. I know I can’t give up my kitchen job right now, but if I could… I would.”

I frown. It’s easy to forget that my other sisters may not be fulfilled in their careers. At least, Maple may not be. She wants to open a restaurant. That dream seems so far away, but I can give her this.

“It sounds like the perfect idea,” I say. “It would be an honor to sell your goods. I’ll even help you out?—”

She lifts a hand. “Please, no. Stay out of my kitchen.”

“What?” I let out a burst of laughter.

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you are the worst kitchen witch.”

I open my mouth to defend myself. Before I can, there’s a knock on the door.

“Might be more workers,” Laurel says. “I’ll get it.”

“It could be for me!” Maple calls after her. “I’m waiting for a package.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Between the four of us, the place is abuzz with deliveries. Maple has a terrible online shopping problem.

What I don’t expect is Laurel to come in with a wrapped gift and a big smile.

“It’s for you,” Laurel says.

No. Her smile is more than big . It’s larger than life and positively devious.

My stomach somersaults.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don’t know…” Laurel says. “Why don’t you open it?”

I don’t like the mischievous smile she’s wearing.

My stomach is still uneasy as I take the little package from Laurel. Sure enough, the nametag has my name printed. The writing is calligraphy in a golden script. The wrapping paper is thick craft paper topped with a red velvet bow. I love red velvet. The gift looks remarkable from the outside.

This can’t be for me… can it? It’s not even my birthday.

Who could it be from? Everyone I care about is in this room—save for Aspen, who never replied to my email. I suppose it would make sense that she would send a gift to congratulate me…

Something tells me it’s not from her.

Another name comes to mind. Ozan’s face pops up, and I push it away.

The flowers were one thing. This is another. Why would he…?

If I save it to open later, that will give Laurel more ammunition.

I tug at the pretty bow. It comes undone, and my heart plunges. My hands shake as I lift the lid, trying to keep my expression neutral .

There’s a card, with my name and writing, and a box of chocolates. They’re lovely chocolates, too. Caramel and hazelnut filled and?—

I love chocolate. Everyone knows I prefer chocolates over flowers or… anything. It’s my favorite treat. This is too good. It can’t be from that dreaded man.

“Those look so fancy!” Maple says from behind me.

“Mhm…” I open the envelope. A pressed rose falls from the stationary. My cheeks are scarlet like the pretty bow I discarded and as hot as the crackling fire.

Congratulations on your big opening day.

I knew you could do it.

—Oz.

“It’s from Oz.” I try to stop my voice from shaking as I fold the letter and slip it into the envelope. The words come out high-pitched. Why do I sound so nervous? Ozan is not allowed to fluster me. I clear my throat. “Ozan. I mean, it’s from Ozan.”

“I know.” Laurel snickers. “He brought it himself. I asked if he wanted to see you, but…”

“Did he say no?” I ask.

“He said you wouldn’t want to see him ,” Laurel says.

“Well, he was right about that,” I say. “I’m not sure why he would give me this. Do you think they’re poisoned?”

All jokes, of course. I can’t see Ozan doing anything so sinister. It’s part of the reason he’s so frustrating. No one is this kind without a motive. It’s positively diabolical.

“I’ll check for poison.” Maple reaches for the chocolates.

“No!” I pull the box against my chest .

My sisters look at me, Maple with confusion and Laurel with a smug smile.

“I mean”—I swallow—"I’m going to give them back to him.”

Laurel groans. “You are not! No way.”

“I cannot accept this,” I say.

“Take the gift!” Maple exclaims. “You worked hard; you deserve some recognition.”

“We all worked hard. Why did he put my name on this?” I shouldn’t say the question out loud, but I do.

Laurel immediately chimes in. “Because he’s the man in the six of cups.”

Maple’s eyes widen. “What? Is this about the reading again?”

“No. It’s nothing!” I glare at Laurel. My next lesson with her will be about client confidentiality. “He won’t stop…giving me things.”

“That was a red rose,” Laurel says. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t see it. You know what red means.”

“It means he knows nothing about flowers,” I say. “Red roses are the most generic flower.”

But he knows something—he has to. He’s a spell caster. Unless a witch casts spells with the cosmos or another energy source, they use items from the earth. Flowers, herbs, pinecones… that sort of thing.

Any witch with an ounce of training knows red roses symbolize love. He and I once debated the fact.

“You adore red roses,” Maple says. “Especially this shade of red. Not the orange-red ones.”

“And they’re the flower of love,” Laurel says. “Everyone knows that.”

I shake my head at them both.

I’m not stupid. I know what red flowers mean. Passion, romance—and sure, the thorns can be used for protective spells, but that’s not the energy I get from the rose.

I lift the dried flower. After everything, why would Ozan want to give me a symbol of attraction?

Goddess… he is so strange. I may never understand that man.