Spells and Scones Read Free

1964.
    The inside boasted warm brick walls, a high ceiling, and a crackling fireplace where patrons could settle into comfy chairs and warm their feet during the chilly months. The large children’s section was well regarded among parents, not least because two times a week one of Croft’s employees, a grandmotherly sort with a talent for voices, read stories aloud to the kiddos.
    On the other side of the Honeybee, Annette Lander ran the Fiber Attic yarn and knitting store. Once the bakery had opened, Croft and Annette had seen their traffic pick up, and heaven knew their customers often dropped in for a tasty treat in our establishment. Often they’d settle in with a new book or a knitting project while nibbling on a pastry and sipping coffee. It was a perfectly symbiotic business relationship.
    Annette hadn’t been able to attend Dr. Dana’s talk, but I recognized many of those who had come. Of course, Margie had already ensconced herself in the front row of folding chairs arranged in front of thepodium. The kids were nowhere to be seen, and she’d ditched her practical mom uniform for a pretty, floral-print dress. Her sandy hair hung in ringlets down her back. They swung over her shoulder when she turned to smile and give me a little wave.
    I put a slice of lemon pound cake on a paper plate and made my way over to her.
    A petite, dark-haired woman was sitting next to Margie. Her gaze flicked up to me as I approached, and as our eyes met, she tipped her head slightly to one side. Did I know her? She looked a few years older than my twenty-nine and wore skinny jeans, a cream-colored T-shirt, and a short leather jacket that matched her brown boots. Before I could decide if I should recognize her from the Honeybee, she bent her head over her copy of
How to Do Marriage Right
.
    Shrugging, I sat in the empty chair on the other side of Margie. “How did date night go?” I asked with a conspiratorial grin, and handed her the treat.
    â€œThanks! And thanks for the Bundt cake—it was the highlight of the meal last night.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t burn anything too much.” She shrugged. “Except for the corn bread. That was sort of, you know—black. And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of making gravy that doesn’t look like kindergarten paste. Luckily, Redding doesn’t expect me to cook like his mama—and date night involves a lot more than supper.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, a girly Groucho Marx.
    My mouth opened in a silent laugh. “Why, you naughty girl!”
    A blush crept into her cheeks. “We are married, you know.”
    I looked down at the copy of
How to Do MarriageRight
she held on her lap. “And it sounds to me like you already know how to ‘do it right,’ too.” The extra romantic oomph Lucy had added to the Bundt cake probably hadn’t hurt, either.
    She smiled and ducked her chin. “Redding and I are good together. You never know, though. I bet Dr. Dana has some real gems in here. I’ve been too busy to take a look yet.”
    Rising, I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to check on the buffet table. Catch up with you later?”
    She nodded and turned to face the podium with an air of expectation.
    Back at my station, a soft tongue licked my ankle, which was bare beneath the long, crinkled skirt I’d donned for the evening. I stepped back and looked down to see Mungo eagerly gazing up at me. My familiar’s nose twitched, and he broke eye contact to stare at the last bite of scone in my hand with the laser focus of a brain surgeon.
    â€œYou already had your supper,” I said.
    Boy, had he ever. Ben had indulged him with leftover fried chicken and mashed potatoes from Mrs. Wilkes’ Dining Room, and Mungo had even tucked into some stewed okra, a Southern delicacy he happened to love but for which I had yet to develop a taste.