Page 30

Chapter Thirty

C lover’s phone dinged. Even though she was at the dinner table and always made a point of making it a phone-free zone, the fact that she hadn’t heard from Ari or her family all day made her reach for it anyway.

Hello, Clover. This is Orion. We met a few days ago at city hall. I asked about new volunteer orientation at Pets and Scritches. There will be one tomorrow evening if you’re still interested.

The text was accompanied by another that included the time and address. Clover frowned at the phone. It wasn’t the message she’d been hoping for.

“Something wrong?” Whit asked from beside her, his plate of spaghetti nearly clean.

Clover shook her head. “No, but do you mind giving me a ride tomorrow night? I promised to attend this volunteer orientation at a cat rescue.”

Whit nodded.

“I’m really sorry. I’ll get another car as soon as I can. I hate having to ask for a ride. I feel like a teenager again.”

“It’s not a problem. I was planning on going somewhere tomorrow as well, so I’ll just drop you off on my way.”

“Oh? You have plans, too?”

Whit averted his gaze. “Just going to work out. You were telling me about someone you met today?”

Clover swallowed down another mouthful of spaghetti. “Yeah, I went wandering around today. I wanted to make myself known to the land spirits. Did you know we live next to a graveyard?”

Whit dipped his head.

Clover laughed. “That’s a silly question. Of course, you know. Anyway, I popped out of the woods into the cemetery. And there was a lady cleaning off one of the graves. She was there visiting her relatives, I think. She looked so sad and lonely. I think she must have lost someone pretty recently. I apologized for disturbing her, but when I went to leave, she asked if I might stay and keep her company for a while. We didn’t talk much, just sat on a bench enjoying the warm weather. But I felt so bad for her when it was time for me to leave—and she said she came to the cemetery most days—that I invited her to tea later this week. Is that all right?”

Whit tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Clover carefully twirled noodles onto her fork. “Well, I didn’t want to just invite someone over without telling you. Besides, do you think it’s safe? She’s a winter witch.”

“What’s her name?” Whit asked, his face suddenly very serious.

“Lina.”

Whit frowned in thought. “I don’t know the name. But if you felt comfortable enough to invite her over, it should be fine. And you don’t have to tell her you’re a summer witch until you feel it’s safe. I mean, we never tell ordinaries we’re friends with who we are, right?”

Clover quirked her mouth. “Yes, but isn’t that a little different? Ordinaries don’t believe in witches. After they took over Forest Haven and started outnumbering us, we stopped being so open. They hear the Founder’s Day story every year, and they think it’s just a silly legend. But you’re right. I’ll wait until I think she’ll be all right with it. Thanks.”

Clover’s phone chimed again, and she glanced at it. “Oh, shit. That’s Rachel from my knitting group. She said she’s outside.” Her head swiveled toward the door and back to her plate.

Whit waved his hand. “Go ahead. I’ll clean up.”

Clover smiled. “Really? Thanks. Sorry.” Scooping up one last bite of pasta, she shoved it into her mouth as she stood.

On her way to the front door, Clover grabbed the tote bag with her latest knitting project in it—a sweater for Crane.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” she called out to Whit while she pulled on her coat.

“Okay,” he answered from the kitchen.

The night wind carried a chill that promised tomorrow would not be as warm. Clover hurried to Rachel’s car and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, turning to the ordinary.

Rachel lowered her head to look out the windshield at the house. “I thought you lived on the south side.”

“I did.”

“You moved?” the woman asked, putting her car in reverse to head back to the road.

“I’ve got a big announcement. I’ll wait until we get there to tell everyone at once.”

The elder smiled. “Oh, I wonder what it is.”

It took only fifteen minutes to get to the stables, a shorter distance than if Clover had been coming from her parents’ house. Rachel parked the car in the gravel lot beside the others.

Clover had been surprised upon her first visit to the group. She didn’t think horse stables were the usual place to sit around and knit. But she was told that the group had started from an equestrian therapy class for elders. Apparently, some of the ladies had gotten to talking about knitting and decided to start a knitting circle. Because the stables were open late on Mondays after their class, the owner had agreed to let them use the tack room for their circle. They called themselves the knitting unicorns.

Clover followed Rachel into the room, and everyone greeted their arrival with enthusiasm.

“We thought you weren’t coming,” Sue said as Clover took the empty chair beside her.

“All right. I’m dying to know. What’s the big announcement?” Rachel asked.

A murmur of confusion traveled around the circle.

“Clover said she had something to tell us,” Rachel updated.

All eyes fixed on Clover.

Clover stared back at her friends. Everyone there was at least thirty years older than her. The youngest at sixty-five was Belle, who everyone called Darling. Josephine—known as Joey—had just turned ninety; they’d had a big party for her and everything. Rachel, Sue, and Frances were somewhere in between.

“Well?” Joey urged, her voice hoarse and a little shaky as usual. “We aren’t getting any younger.”

With a smile, Clover held out her left hand. “I got married!”