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Chapter Twenty-Seven

W hit replayed the visit from Clover’s sister the day before as he prepared to open the shop. Outwardly, Erie had seemed polite and curious about him. But he hadn’t missed the hint of hardness in her stare or the stiff way she’d sat as if she were uncomfortable even being in his presence.

One thing was for certain, though. She loved her sister, and she’d come to comfort and support her decision to marry him. That was good enough for Whit. He’d overheard their conversation in the kitchen, and he hoped the rest of her family would come around eventually.

Clover hadn’t said anything to Whit. Why would she? But he’d heard how sad her voice was when she’d talked with Erie. And he’d seen the shadow in her cornflower blue eyes when the sisters had chatted over tea.

As he wiped fingerprints from the glass jewelry case, he heard a knock on the window. He glanced at the clock. It was still another ten minutes before he was set to open.

I did lose two days of revenue . If they’re so eager to get in, maybe they’ll buy something.

But when he looked through the door, he saw it was only Alexandre. He unbolted the lock and flipped the sign to open.

Alexandre burst in, bringing a blast of cold wind from the otherwise warm day.

“I don’t have much time,” he said in a rush. “I told your mom I was going to visit my mom before work, and you know she talks to her, so I have to actually go.”

Whit braced for impact as Alexandre turned his dark eyes on him.

“Do you know what the last three days have been like for me?” Alexandre asked with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

Whit swallowed. He could imagine.

“Your mom was positive I knew something about your sudden marriage.”

“Did you tell her anything?” Whit asked.

Alexandre scowled. “Who do you take me for? I played dumb, of course. But let me tell you, when she showed me that wedding picture of you and that summer witch, it took every ounce of my acting skills to pretend.”

Whit sighed in relief. He knew he would have to tell everyone about Clover. But it was far better they heard it from him. As usual, Alexandre came through in a pinch.

Alexandre crossed his arms, pursing his lips in displeasure. “Dude, a summer witch? I know your grandfather wanted you to get married fast, but did it have to be a summer witch? She’s the one you ditched me for at the party, right? I’d almost rather you’d married Faustina than her.”

Whit’s hackles rose. “That’s uncalled for.”

“No, man, what’s uncalled for is you putting me in a tough spot between you as my friend and your mom as my employer. Your whole family is going to flip when they find out. You know that’s not what your grandfather meant when he said marry a witch.”

“Then he should have been clearer with his word choice if he was going to make a magical pact. I thought you’d appreciate the loophole I found, being the resident trickster.”

But Whit’s comment had no effect on Alexandre’s mood.

“I might have if you weren’t now married to a summer witch for the rest of your life. Ugh, was it really worth it for a house?”

“She’s not that bad. And you said it yourself—no winter witch would get married in a rush like that.”

Alexandre huffed through his nose. He knew Whit was right. He had said marrying a winter witch before the solstice was impossible. He’d even been the one to drag him to the summer party. So in a roundabout way, Clover and Whit never would have met without Alexandre.

“How mad is she?” Whit asked, seeing Alexandre’s irritation ease a bit.

Alexandre clicked his tongue. “Her rage wasn’t as bad as her sorrow. She’s heartbroken. Think about it. Her only son, the only real family she has left, didn’t even include her in such a big moment.”

Whit’s heart squeezed. “I’ll call her.” But even as he made the promise, he didn’t know what he was going to say. He could explain everything to her in detail. He could tell her about Grandfather and his demands. But he knew that would only upset her more. She would see what he’d done as trading his life’s happiness for a house. He had to make her believe he’d married Clover because he loved her, or his mother would be considerably more heartbroken than she was now. Not to mention it would affect her relationship with Grandfather and her treatment of Clover.

A wave of exhaustion rushed over Whit. This was why he’d always acted so carefully, why he wasn’t spontaneous and thought his decisions through. In less than a week, his whole life had been turned upside down and inside out, and there was no end in sight.

What had ever convinced him this was a good idea?

An image of Clover—bathed in moonlight, her cornflower blue eyes dark in the hushed winter woods, tilting her face upward, inviting him to kiss her—came to his mind. Was that when I lost my mind? No.

He wouldn’t have even been in that situation had he not felt the intrigue of her magic.

Recalling it now, warmth spread through him. And though he still knew he was in a topsy turvy version of his life, he somehow had the hope everything would work out. The feeling was completely foreign to him. Things didn’t just work out on their own. It took work and planning to make life what he wanted it to be. But even so, even though he knew that to be true—had lived his whole life by that principle—it didn’t affect the feeling.

He knew that if he threw seeds down now—even if they had to stay dormant for months under the Cailleach’s tartan of snow—they would grow because that was what seeds did. That was their purpose.

“Everything will be all right,” Whit assured Alexandre.

Alexandre raised an eyebrow at his friend. “If you say so… Just take care of it.”

Whit nodded. “I will. And thanks for covering for me.”

Finally, Alexandre quirked a smile. “Who do you think I am? You think I don’t have my boy’s back?”