Page 45

Chapter Forty-Five

W hit returned Eirwen’s smile when she opened the door to find him on her porch.

“Whit!” his cousin’s wife exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Isn’t your store open on Saturdays?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but I have to talk to Caldwell about something, so I closed for lunch. Is he home?”

“He’s in his office. Come on in.” She stepped aside for him to enter. “I just finished making lunch. Would you like some? Chicken sandwiches.”

“No, thanks. I already ate.”

“You sure? I always make extra. I never know how hungry the boys are going to be.” Eirwen closed the door and turned back to him.

Whit shook his head.

“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Come into the kitchen. I’ll make Caldwell a plate, and you can take it up to him.”

Following Eirwen through the hall, Whit entered the kitchen to find Caldwell’s kids at the table. The boys—eight and ten—were wearing headphones and staring at their tablets as they ate.

“Boys!” Eirwen called. “I asked you to turn those off at the table. Say hello to your cousin.”

With mumbles and looks of displeasure, the boys did what their mother bid them.

“Hey, guys,” Whit greeted. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Bryan—the older of the two—said before smothering his crinkle fry with ketchup.

Whit looked at Colin, who echoed his brother’s sentiments.

“That’s good,” Whit said. “Anything new? What have you been up to?”

“Just school,” Bryan answered.

It was always like this with Caldwell’s boys. Having a conversation with them was like pulling teeth. The only time they were excited was when they were talking about video games.

“Yeah? What do you like about school this year?” Whit asked.

“Math, I guess,” Bryan replied, completely uninterested.

“And you, Colin?”

Colin shrugged. “Art.”

Whit pounced on this bit of information. “Really? You like art, Colin? What do you like about it?”

“I like to draw.” The boy’s tone wasn’t very convincing.

“Do you? Can I see any of your drawings?”

“Maybe later.”

Holding in his sigh, Whit was saved when Eirwen offered him a plate with a crispy chicken sandwich and crinkle fries. “Make sure he actually eats it, will you?” she requested.

Whit nodded. “See you later, guys.”

His young cousins didn’t bother to answer.

Carrying the plate, Whit climbed the stairs to the second floor, then passed the bedrooms and bathroom to the end of the hall. He knocked on Caldwell’s office door.

“Come in,” Caldwell called.

When Whit opened the door, Caldwell tilted his head. “Isn’t your shop open today?”

Whit nodded, staring at his cousin’s desk—so full of papers that he wasn’t sure where to put the plate down.

“Oh, give me a sec,” Caldwell said, seeing his dilemma. He shuffled the papers into piles, clearing the space in front of him.

Finally, Caldwell took the plate from Whit, and Whit sat in the only other chair in the room—an armchair to one side of the door.

“What brings you here?” Caldwell asked before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Not that you aren’t welcome.”

“I wanted to tell you something in person…something about my new wife.”

Caldwell nodded, and Whit was struck by the fact that his cousin—and Eirwen for that matter—didn’t seem nearly as surprised as his mother and aunt had been.

Slightly sidetracked, Whit asked, “Did Grandfather tell you about our pact?”

Putting down his sandwich, Caldwell adopted his serious lawyer face. “Look, Whit, everyone in the family knows how you feel about the house. And even though I’m older, I never had a problem with you getting it. The fact is I’m way too busy to keep it up, and I told Grandfather as much. I advocated for you. I really did.” Caldwell shrugged. “But you know how he gets.”

“So you knew about it, then,” Whit said flatly.

Caldwell’s mask slipped as he flinched. “Yeah, he told me that was his plan.”

Whit sighed.

“But, hey, it worked out, right?” Caldwell picked up his sandwich again. “I honestly didn’t think you could pull it off. Kudos to you. She must be something else to have agreed so quickly. Have you two been friends for a while or something?”

“Clover is a summer witch,” Whit disclosed.

Caldwell’s mouth fell open, and the chicken breast in his hands slid from between the buns onto the plate.

“That’s right. My new wife is a summer witch.”

Caldwell blinked. “D-does Grandfather know?”

Whit shook his head. “Not yet, and I don’t want you to tell him either.”

Caldwell frowned. “But…don’t you think that’s going to affect his decision about the house?”

“How can it? We sealed a magical pact. If I married a witch before the winter solstice, he would give the house to me. He didn’t specify she had to be a winter witch.”

Caldwell quirked his mouth. “Yeah…but you know that’s what he meant.”

Whit shrugged. “That doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Caldwell raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, you’re right. From a contract perspective, he should have specified.” His eyes met Whit’s. “Are you really okay with this though? I mean…as far as I know, you’ve never had any love for the summer witches. And you marrying just anyone isn’t why Grandfather conceived all this.”

Whit snorted. “I honestly don’t know why Grandfather has been so obsessed with me getting married. If he didn’t want it to turn out this way, he should have let me alone. As for the summer witches”—Whit sighed heavily—“I’m going to be honest, it’s been a challenge. Her family is not happy, which is upsetting for her. It takes a lot of energy to have someone else in my space, to consider what she wants and what she’s thinking. And she’s…well, she’s very different from me. She invited fae into the house, she’s afraid of ghosts, and she put tacks in the walls.”

“I bet you loved that.”

When Whit looked back to his cousin’s face, he saw Caldwell was grinning.

“Why are you making that face at me?”

Caldwell’s grin widened as he chuckled a knowing laugh. “You think that all your problems here are because she’s a summer witch”—Caldwell shook his head—“when they’re because you’re married now. You’d be having these same adjustments if you’d married a winter witch. They would only take a different form.”

“Then why would Grandfather try to force this on me?” Whit raised his voice.

Caldwell leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers with the smuggest expression. “You’ll figure it out.”