Page 12 of Witching You Weren't Snowed In

I grabbed a shopping cart and checked the list again. I would be efficient and organized. I would not get distracted by non-list items. Most importantly, I would not walk downmemory lane, no matter who I ran into.Therein lies the path to chaos…

“Sage Bennett! Is that you? Wow! It’s been ages. Those teenage years are so awkward. Am I right? But you look amazing now and so grown-up.”

And…I was just shoved down memory lane. Thankfully, the rocky path was paved with a few scattered compliments. Too bad I’d only made it to the produce aisle.

“Mrs. Thompson! It’s good to see you. Are you still teaching ninth-grade science?”

Mrs. Thompson maneuvered her cart to the side, letting another couple slide past. “I’m retired now. No more science fairs for me. Gosh, remember yours? I still have nightmares.” She winked. “See what I did there?”

I did. Mrs. Thompson had made a sleep pun.

The thing was, I’d wanted to make a volcano. A perfectly normal and unproblematic project that would get me an A, and also leave me socially unscathed. But my mother insisted I show off the Bennett family mood detection tea. Not mood enhancer—that’s a different thing. This was more like a mood ring, but with tea.

The potion had passed from generation to generation, transcribed over the years until it was my mother’s turn to write it down. But not unlike the penmanship in her holiday letters, the potion card was unreadable.

I was also going through a phase where I refused to wear my glasses because they were too big for my face. Either way, I mixed up the ingredients, and instead of turning the tea bluewhen someone was happy; the potion had an unfortunate side effect: drowsiness. Like intense drowsiness. Everyone who drank my tea fell asleep, and we had to stop the fair early.

I did not get an A or leave socially unscathed. That year, my classmates called me Sage the Snoozy Mage and pretended to fall asleep whenever I spoke.

“So tell me,” Mrs. Thompson said, leaning on the handle of the cart like she planned to stay awhile. “What does it feel like to win such a prestigious award at the agency? Did they hold a huge banquet?” She pressed a hand against her heart and whispered reverently, “Were you wearing a designer label?”

“Well—”

Mrs. Thompson didn't let me finish. “Your mother told us all about your success at bookclub, and I told everyone at the historical center. Someone even made a flyer and put it on the bulletin board at the post office.”

“I hope they didn’t use my yearbook photo,” I said, trying to disguise my agony.

Only in my hometown would they post my alleged achievement right next to the federal wanted posters. Memory lane had morphed into a dark future alley, and I needed an off-ramp.

“Oh, look—fresh turkeys are half-off! Better grab one before they sell out.” I pointed toward the back of the store and when Mrs. Thompson fell for my ruse, I dashed down the cereal aisle.

This town wasn’t big enough for me and my emotional baggage, and I still hadn’t found anything on my shoppinglist. Keeping my head low, and my perfectly styled hair in my face—thank goodness for curtain bangs—I managed to locate the truffle butter.

The rest of the list I slowly added to the cart, wheeling between shoppers like I was moving through a maze while memories from my past waited at the end of every aisle. Until I’d reached the coveted cheese case and spotted the most terrifying dead end of them all: Leo Grayson picking out a wheel of brie.

How was it possible for a man to look that good under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the supermarket? It wasn’t fair. He was even backlit by a variety of gourmet cheese, and let’s face it, life was just better with cheese. If he had a bottle of wine tucked under his arm, I’d melt like fondue in front of the cracker display.

Cleanup on aisle twelve.

I pivoted, nearly knocking over a rack of bagel chips. There would be no sharp cheddar at the Bennett family Thanksgiving this year. A tragic, but necessary sacrifice.

Now I needed to get out of this store without Leo seeing me, or memory lane might turn into memory quicksand, and a discounted turkey wouldn’t be enough to pull me out.

Chapter 5

Leo

“I think Sage spottedme.” I placed the wheel of brie into the cart.

Valerie tossed a ball of mozzarella beside it and popped the collar of her jacket to hide her face. “She didn’t see us. We’ve been super subtle, and this place is packed.”

“Subtle is not wearing oversized sunglasses inside the supermarket. Why are you in disguise? Sage doesn’t know who you are.” I scraped a hand over my jaw. “I don’t know. This whole thing feels weird.”

“It’s only weird if we make it weird. Besides, aren’t you going to some big, fancy Thanksgiving dinner? You can’t show up empty-handed. Buy a pie or a cheese board. Now you’re shopping for real.” Valerie wheeled the cart in the direction Sage had vanished.

I internally groaned and followed. Our supermarket stakeout had been a horrible idea. Not only because you’d have to be a glutton for punishment to step foot near the marketso close to Thanksgiving, but also because I still wasn’t sold on Valerie’s ‘think like a villain’ plan.

On paper, it was genius, but in the real world, it felt dirty and counterproductive to my goal. I wasn’t good at deception or taking advantage. Those were my father’s traits.