Some Like It Witchy Read Free Page A

enough,” she said, grinning. “What a hoot it would be to have a show taped here, no?”
    â€œMaybe,” I reasoned. “But some things around here aren’t easily explained.” Like how Wishcrafters showed up on film as bright white starbursts.
    â€œTrue, true,” Cherise said, nodding as though just considering those kinds of issues.
    Currently, there were two obstacles that stood in the way of the show starting production. The first was that a special filming permit needed approval from the village council—which was also going to be voted on at the next village council meeting—and second was that Scott Whiting had to definitively decide on a host for the show.
    As Cherise and I sat on the sagging top step to await Raina’s arrival, I glanced next door at Terry’s house. A curtain suddenly swished closed in an upstairs window—he’d been watching us, and I had to wonder what he thought about possibly living between two ex-wives.
    If I were him, I’d consider selling his place.
    Immediately.
    â€œOh, here comes Calliope,” Cherise said, standing up and dusting off her knee-length shorts.
    Calliope Harcourt had her head down, reading something on her phone, as she hurried along. When she made an abrupt right turn to come up the walkway, she gasped when she finally looked up and realized she wasn’t alone. She dropped a binder she was carrying and laughed as she picked it up. “I should pay more attention. Hello!”
    Mid-twenties, Calliope had just earned her master’s degree from Boston College, and intelligence shone in blue eyes that slanted downward at their corners. She was a tiny thing—barely five feet tall with an oval face, rectangular glasses, and shiny auburn hair pulled back in a loose bun. Wearing dress pants, a short-sleeved floral-print top, and ballet flats, she looked every bit a bookworm.
    When I first met her, Calliope had been working part-time for Sylar Dewitt at his optometry office. It wasn’t long after he married the atrocious Dorothy Hansel, one of his optician assistants, that Calliope had started looking for a new job. I didn’t blame her. I could only imagine how overbearing Dorothy had become after marrying the boss. Where Dorothy was concerned, walking away was often necessary before something homicidal happened.
    Been there, done that.
    Kent and Raina had hired Calliope straight off, and she’d been working for them almost a year now, but their time with her was limited. She’d been sending out résumés for herdream job as a museum archivist for a few months now and it was just a matter of time before she found a position.
    â€œYou looked engrossed,” Cherise said, smiling.
    â€œAn e-mail from Kent to draw up a contract when I’m through here. He and Raina are running me ragged. Plus, dealing with the TV show details . . .” She smiled, not seeming to be bothered in the least. She glanced around. “Raina asked me to meet her here with papers for you to sign, Ms. Goodwin. Is she inside?”
    â€œShe’s not here, dear,” Cherise said. “We’ve been waiting for her to have our walk-through.”
    â€œThat’s strange.” Confusion filled her eyes, and her eyebrows dipped. “I know she had a morning meeting with Scott Whiting. Maybe it ran late.” She shrugged. “Let’s go in. At least you can look around while we wait for her to get here.”
    Calliope tucked her binder under her arm and bent to tackle the lockbox on the door. A second later, she had the key in her hand and was slipping it into the door. A one-carat crystal-clear diamond sparkled on her ring finger. Her boyfriend, Finn Reardon, had popped the question last Valentine’s Day.
    â€œGo on in,” she said, stepping aside. “I’m going to send Raina a text message to remind her we’re waiting, and then I’ll be right in.”
    My envy