Page 47 of The Messengers of Magic

Chapter Thirty-Three

A fter cleaning up the bookshop’s front and puzzling over the mysterious shifting paint strips, Adelaide stepped outside, locking the Feather Thorn’s door behind her.

She wasn’t in any hurry to head back to Carolyn’s.

The thought of telling her about buying the bookshop still filled her with a niggling dread.

She needed an excuse to stall; green paint would do just fine.

The Bloxworth, the town’s hardware store, was only a short walk away.

She pushed open its heavy oak door, a cascade of chimes announcing her arrival.

The shop was a small-town jumble of tools, homewares, and seasonal odds and ends.

Rows of dark wooden shelves lined the walls, groaning under merchandise.

It smelled like old nails and freshly cut timber, with a faint undertone of peppermint from the jars of sweets near the till.

The worn black-and-white tiles underfoot gave the place an old-world charm that made her oddly nostalgic.

Adelaide made a beeline past coiled garden hoses and rows of padlocks, heading straight for the small paint counter at the back. It was empty. She leaned over it slightly, craning her neck to see into the dim storeroom behind, where paint cans lined old wooden shelves.

“Hello?” she called out. Her voice echoed, unanswered.

Just as she was about to turn away, the sound of heavy footsteps thudded behind her.

Adelaide turned to see Ewan approaching, sporting a green shop apron, covered in sawdust. Her heart gave a startled leap, and a warm flush spread over her cheeks.

“Adelaide, wasn’t it?” he asked, swinging open the half-door and stepping behind the counter. His expression brightened. “What brings you in today?”

“Hi,” she stammered, pulling the paint sample from the pocket of her suede jacket and holding it out. “I need paint.”

As he took it, she glanced at his apron. So, this was the place he’d meant when he’d apologized about the timber delivery delay.

“Nice choice,” he said, glancing at the sample. Then, with a grin, “And good taste in jackets, too.”

She instinctively brushed the soft suede. She’d forgotten she was wearing it. Though she loved the jacket, it sometimes felt a little out of her old comfort zone.

“Oh, thanks,” she managed, looking down at her shoes.

“Seriously,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I mean it.”

His words carried no pressure, just a quiet, pleasant confidence.

Still, it flustered her. She found herself smiling, girlishly, before she turned away to browse a random aisle, pretending to look at something else while her pulse calmed.

She wandered past latches and hinges, her hand trailing over the cold metal, until she paused at a display of sturdy bolt locks.

A flash of the figure standing in the window of the flat flitted through her mind.

The place had been abandoned for years; it wasn’t unthinkable that someone had been squatting.

Maybe they still were. It would explain the smell of men’s cologne and the figure she’d seen.

She picked two heavy-duty bolts off the rack and tucked them under her arm.

The sharp tang of pine and resin clung to the air as she wandered through the timber section looking for a board she could use to patch the broken stairwell window, but everything was too long or too thick. Perhaps Carolyn would have a scrap piece in the garage. She’d have to look later.

As she returned to the paint area, Adelaide pulled a roller and a wide-bristled brush from a wall rack. Ewan appeared just then, holding a fresh tin of paint with a green splotch on the lid that matched the swatch she’d brought in.

“Need a tray?” he asked, gesturing toward a stack of paint trays balancing on an old oak barrel.

“Yes, please,” she replied, flashing a smile as she fumbled with the roller, brush, and locks, trying to free up a hand.

“No bother, I’ve got it.” He grabbed a tray for her and walked to the front counter. “Helping Carolyn paint?”

She hesitated, then shook her head, placing the supplies down. “No, I’ve got a few projects of my own.”

“The Feather Thorn?” he inquired, catching her off guard.

Part of her wanted to keep it quiet a little longer, admitting it felt like confirming the whispers going around town, but she was planning on telling Carolyn that evening.

“Yeah,” she answered, trying to sound breezy. “Just giving it a fresh coat of paint in a few spots.”

“It’s nice to see someone taking an interest in it again,” he said warmly, ringing up her items. “It’s been sitting empty for far too long. This town could use a little more adventure, mystery… a touch of romance.”

He lingered on that last word, his gaze holding hers a moment longer than necessary. Heat rose to her cheeks, and her mind immediately leapt into thoughts that had no business being entertained in a hardware store. Or anywhere else in public, for that matter.

“Right,” she said quickly. “Yes, well, I hope to have it up and running soon.”

“Good to hear. That’ll be twenty-two pounds.”

She dug out the cash from her back pocket, handed it over, then reached for the bag and paint, eager to bolt.

“Can I help you with all that?” Ewan asked, coming around the counter. He stepped close, too close, and she caught a hint of his aftershave, clean and woodsy, woodsmoke and pine, sending her thoughts down a path that was anything but clean and wholesome.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” she squeaked, half an octave higher than normal. She pivoted toward the door, needing to put distance between herself and the man who seemed to bring out the teenage girl in her.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help!” he called after her.

She lifted the bag of supplies in a one-handed wave and threw him a quick smile, the kind that showed too many teeth, before practically bursting out the door.

She couldn’t have been more awkward if she tried.

If this was what flirting looked like after nearly a decade of marriage, she was in trouble. Apparently, she had the social skills of a deer in headlights when it came to attractive men.

Back at the bookshop, she set down the purchases, locked up, and headed over to the bakery. If she was going to break the news to Carolyn, she figured a box of chocolate puffs might help sweeten the blow.

Dottie boxed up a dozen with a knowing smile, and Adelaide took them gratefully, climbing into her car just as the last of daylight faded. A cold dew was already frosting the pavement, and she guessed there’d be ice by morning.

It reminded her that her time at the stone cabin was nearly up. Though the thought no longer filled her with dread, now that she knew the Feather Thorn had a flat above it.

She’d miss it, of course. Over the past few weeks, the cabin had become her space, in a way nowhere else ever had.

For the first time in her life, she had a place to breathe.

But now, not only did she have a flat to live in, she had a bookshop to care for.

A new chapter of her life waiting to be written.

And for once, it was a story she actually wanted to live.

She’d never pictured her life without Jeff.

But now, in the wake of everything, she was starting to discover who she was without him, and she liked the person she was becoming.

As she pulled into Carolyn’s driveway, the warm glow from the kitchen windows that usually welcomed her home made her stomach twist. There was so much to explain.

Carolyn’s past with the shop wasn’t simple, and if she believed the place was cursed, tonight wouldn’t be easy. Adelaide was bracing for a storm.

She shut off the engine and lingered in the silence until the cold air began to creep into the car, forcing her out and toward the warmth of the house.

Clutching the box of chocolate puffs under one arm, she walked up the path and paused at the door.

The conversation would be uncomfortable, maybe even painful, but if she was ever going to stand on her own, it had to start now.

Carolyn needed to understand why she’d bought the Feather Thorn.

Why, no matter what anyone said, she couldn’t walk away from it.

It had called to her. And she was ready to answer.