Page 46 of Never Been Witched (Starfall Point #3)
Alice
Paige LaGravenesse was the stuff of teenage nightmares: flawless, pearlescent cream skin that seemed illuminated by some invisible lighting director assigned by a cruel universe; smooth, bobbed black hair that probably never frizzed; wide blue eyes lined by naturally sooty lashes granted by that same hateful universe.
And everything in her wardrobe seemed to have been assembled by fairies, the mean-spirited kind who made poisonous spinning wheels.
And she was staying in the guesthouse, just a few hundred yards away from Collin’s front door.
Alice was fully aware that proximity wasn’t the real problem here.
Paige wasn’t even the problem, really. The problem was Collin’s seeming inability to make declarative statements to Paige.
Why was he being so wishy-washy? Did he still have feelings for Paige?
Even if he didn’t, was this something Alice was willing to put up with long term?
The Ghosts of Possessive and Intimidating Girlfriends Past?
She had enough ghosts in her life…like the ceiling ghost, who appeared to be trying to hide in the far corner of the foyer, watching her as she read.
Ew.
But considering that the ghost wasn’t doing anything but watching, she didn’t want to try to confront it alone. If it moved any closer, however, she had several of Riley’s ornaments sitting next to her mug of chamomile tea.
Every once in a while, Alice would get a glimpse of Victoria and Samuel dancing through the atrium or chasing each other like children, laughing.
They never materialized for very long around the ceiling ghost’s unnerving presence, not that Alice blamed them.
Still, it was nice, seeing Victoria happily reunited with the man she loved, getting the freedom to love him openly in the unrestrained, joyous way of young people.
Collin said he saw his own situation reflected in Victoria’s unhappy engagement.
Maybe that was why he was behaving so oddly about Paige?
“Would you like me to speak to Mr. Bancroft, Miss Alice?” Plover asked, tugging Alice’s attention away from a book on protective magic.
She was curled up on her favorite chaise, near Eloise’s fountain under the pale light of the atrium windows.
Riley was betting on the Christmas-ornament plan, but she thought they could use silver to boost it against…
whatever Chester was. Alice knew the coven hadn’t really gone out to “grocery shop”—they’d been far too agreeable about Alice lingering in the house to safeguard it.
She knew they were going to Collin’s, probably to threaten him, but honestly, she couldn’t stop them from doing that if they wanted.
And if Collin couldn’t handle a tiny little threat from her coven, he wasn’t going to last in her life long enough for her to worry about Paige anyway.
If she had been in love with Collin, she would have taken Caroline up on her offer to force-feed Alice ice cream and watch movies about women who find their power or new love or set fire to things—sometimes all at once.
And apparently, there would be cocktails involved.
Caroline insisted it was a “friendship imperative.”
Alice wasn’t in love with Collin, but she’d developed feelings for him.
She was teetering on the edge of love, but something had told her to stop and slow down; she felt like she couldn’t trust someone who seemed to give affection and acceptance so easily.
Obviously, this was it. Collin came with baggage well beyond Alice’s angry grandparents and last romantic entanglement. Because his baggage was current.
“Miss Alice,” Plover said again. “Would you like me to speak to Collin?”
“Wouldn’t that require me dragging him into the house?” Alice asked.
“I believe Joshua and Miss Mina would aid in the effort,” Plover noted, arching his brow.
“I don’t know. I’m not mad, I’m hurt. He put her first. He thought about her feelings and her comfort before he thought about me.
Because it was easier or more convenient or—whatever.
I’ve had too much of that in my life,” Alice said.
“I want someone who will put me first, think about me and what I need before calculating how giving me what I need will weigh against everybody else’s needs. Is that unreasonable?”
“I don’t know,” Plover admitted. “I’ve never been through a ‘breakup’ before. I’m not even sure that’s what this is or how to help you through it.”
“You’re doing great,” she assured him. “But honestly, I think worrying about our ghost issues would be a nice change from worrying about whatever I have going on with Collin.”
Plover demurred. “Of course, Miss. But if I may…”
“Yes?” She turned toward a firm knock at the front door. As she moved, Alice’s eyes landed on the folly through the atrium glass.
“I’ve watched enough living relationships to know when a man regrets the loss of a woman and when he simply regrets her.
I don’t believe he regrets the loss of this former friend of his.
Not from the way he looks at you. As much as it pains me to admit it, he is quite smitten with you. No one else holds his heart.”
She stood and walked to the door, salt-filled ornament in hand. And as much as Alice appreciated this fatherly advice, something Mina said when they were digging outside the folly was sticking in Alice’s mind. What if Stanford hadn’t been digging?
The ceiling ghost seemed to note her movement and slithered away toward the dining room. That suited Alice just fine.
Finding her grandparents standing on the other side of the door, staring at it as if they could open it through the sheer force of their angry stares? That, she hadn’t been prepared for.
Franklin and Marilyn were looking a little worse for wear—with dark circles under their eyes and dust smudges on their normally immaculate clothes.
Apparently, running their own store, even during the glacially slow season, did not agree with them.
They were missing their sunny Florida climes and the ease of having someone else do all the work.
“Oh, what the hell!” she huffed. “What are you doing here?”
“Such a short time away from the home we graciously provided for you, and you’ve already taken on the manners of a fishwife,” Marilyn Proctor drawled.
“Oh, yes, you can tell I’m really roughing it,” Alice said, closing the door quickly behind her so they couldn’t get a look inside Shaddow House—for no other reason than that she knew it would annoy them.
“Honestly, Alice, this is shameful,” Marilyn told her. “Have some pride in the name we’ve given you. I know that you’re not particularly well regarded for your judgment, but this is beyond the pale. Just admit that you’ve made a mistake and—”
As if summoned by magic, the rest of her coven trooped up the walk, grocery bags in hand. Hmm, maybe they had gone grocery shopping.
“Mr. and Mrs. Proctor?” Riley said, smiling with a cold civility that sent a shiver down Alice’s spine. She’d only seen that smile around Clark…and Edison’s mom.
“Yes, hello, Miss Denton. We’d like to speak to Alice. May we come in?” Marilyn asked.
“No,” Riley told her cheerfully. “You’re not welcome in the house. You can speak to Alice when she’s ready, out on the porch.”
Marilyn laid a hand across her collarbone. “How rude.”
Riley smiled sweetly as she opened the front door. She also kept it mostly closed so the Proctors couldn’t see inside. “No, rude would be telling you to fuck off directly into the lake. This is just mildly discourteous.”
Franklin gasped. “Now, see here, young lady!”
Plover pressed his transparent face against the barely open door to grumble, “I am sorely tempted to appear to both of them so I might also request they ‘fuck off directly into the lake,’ but I would not put additional pressure on you, Miss Alice, giving them knowledge of the afterlife.”
Alice nodded, trying very hard not to laugh. This whole scene was worth it just to hear Plover say “fuck.”
“It’s no wonder that Nora’s niece turned out to be so crass. The whole family has gone rotten over the years,” Franklin intoned, sounding very put upon. “Speaking of which.”
He turned his attention to Alice. “We understand your ‘dalliance’ with Collin Bancroft is at an end. You were seen slinking across the island last night, dragging your suitcase behind you. And while we’re not surprised, we’re not here to tell you, ‘I told you so.’”
“Telling someone you’re not going to say ‘I told you so’ still counts as ‘I told you so,’” Alice observed.
“We’re willing to accept your apology, if you offer it—sincerely—right now,” Marilyn told her.
“Apologize?” Alice laughed loudly, with just enough of an edge to make them both take a step back. Good.
“Yes, are you so stupid that you don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘apology’?” Marilyn demanded.
Over their shoulders, she saw Caroline rolling her eyes and making…frankly, a truly obscene gesture that she probably shouldn’t be making in front of the kids. And somehow, the profane, irreverent hilarity of it disrupted Alice’s thought cycle enough for her to examine Marilyn’s words carefully.
Alice Seastairs wasn’t stupid. That was a ridiculous statement. People on the island didn’t think she was stupid. People came to her with questions about their antiques. They came to her with history questions. They asked her for book recommendations in the library’s nonfiction section.
People trusted her word.