Spells and Scones Read Free Page A

Thinking about what my dog had had for supper made my own stomach growl, despite the Greek scone.
    Now he made a sound low in his throat and cocked his head to the side, eyes still riveted to the pastry remnant I held.
    Ben laughed. “The little guy just wants a bit of dessert to go with supper.”
    The dog’s nose twitched, and he grinned a canine grin.
    â€œOkay, fine.” I bent and offered the final bite to him.
    He stepped forward and daintily extracted it from my fingertips before wolfing it down in a single gulp.
    I rolled my eyes, and Ben laughed.
    A portly man with a graying comb-over and blue suspenders approached the buffet table and began examining the pastries on offer. He clutched a Craig Johnson mystery in one hand and I wondered briefly if he was there to see Dr. Dana or had inadvertently stumbled into the festivities.
    He pointed at a platter and said, “Whatever that is, it looks mighty tasty. Mind if I try one?”
    â€œBacon jalapeño corn pones.” Ben’s eyes lit up as he handed the man a small paper plate and napkin. “By all means, take two.” He waved at Lucy and me. “These ladies are geniuses in the kitchen, but I have to tell you that delectable concoction was my idea—which, of course, they implemented to a spectacular degree.”
    The man took a healthy bite, his eyes widening as the spicy, salty, smoky, and slightly sweet combination hit his taste buds. “Whoo-ee! That is
good
! I believe I will have another. Where did you say these came from?”
    â€œThe Honeybee Bakery,” Ben boomed. A few heads turned. “Right next door.”
    â€œI might just have to try one of those myself,” a familiar voice said.
    I looked up to see Declan McCarthy grinning down at me. Moving out from behind the table, I wrapped my arms around him in a hug and bussed his cheek. “Nice of you to finally show up.”
    He donned an expression of mock hurt but couldn’t keep it up for more than a few seconds. His blue eyes drank me in as I resisted running my finger along hissquare jaw. His dark, wavy hair had grown almost long enough to challenge fire department regulations, and I had a hard time not touching that, too.
    Keeping myself under control, I squeezed his arm and reached for a corn pone. Handing it to him, I gestured toward the rapidly filling seats. “You might want to find a place to sit down before the festivities begin.”
    â€œI’d rather hang out with you.” He looked around. “Where is this relationship guru?”
    â€œOn her way,” Croft muttered as he passed by. “At least that’s what Phoebe said.”
    â€œPhoebe?” Declan asked as he watched the stressed older man walk away.
    â€œDr. Dana’s assistant,” I said.
    â€œHer sister, too, from what I’ve heard,” Lucy chimed in.
    â€œReally? I wonder what it would be like to work for your sister,” I mused. As an only child, I sometimes wondered what it would be like to even have a sister.
    â€œWell, I don’t know that I’d want to work with mine,” Lucy muttered under her breath.
    I stifled a laugh. She was talking about my mother, Mary Jane Lightfoot, and I had to agree with her.
    The man popped the last bite of his second corn pone into his mouth and tugged at his suspenders as he chewed. He swallowed and took a swig of the tea Lucy had handed him. “Thank you, ma’am. You put on a nice spread here. Too bad it’s for that sham of a therapist.”
    Lucy and Ben looked at each other.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Declan asked.
    â€œRelationship guru,” the man grated out. “My foot, she’s a
guru
. You know that radio show she has? The one where people call in and talk smack about their husbands or wives or relatives?”
    I nodded. “Sure.
The Dr. Dana Show
. My friend lovesit.” Glancing over, I saw Margie staring a hole in the door to Broughton Street