Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I take back all my threats to your peace of mind,” he assured me.
Blythe Babcock—I’d always loved her name—came by to pick up my donation for the animal shelter and asked what she could do for me.
“Your plaque in our lobby is already the biggest,” she said, smiling at me, taking the zippered bank bag she’d given me that morning. “My goodness, Xan, every year you give so much of yourself to the shelter.”
“One of these days, they’ll all find homes, and then you and I can go on vacation in the fall,” I teased her.
She took my hands in hers. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
Amanda had no idea where my booth was and was horrified when she finally found us, me and Eddie eating more crap that he’d gone to get, plus a second helping of chili fries. She had people I didn’t know with her, probably some of her friends from out of town. Lots of folks visited on the weekend of the festival. I was looking forward to not being there the following day. One day, Saturday, was more than enough.
I noticed that Toby was hanging back, looking at the stones, crystals, bottles, and candles I had left. He was smelling the tea as well.
“C’mere,” I said, calling him over to where I was sitting.
He left his mother instantly, running to reach me.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked him. “Did you eat too much junk?”
He shook his head, watching JJ compete with their father for the chili fries everyone was stunned the toddler was eating.
“Then what?”
He pressed his lips together.
“You know you can tell me.”
Leaning in close to my ear, Toby took a breath and said, “I want a bottle for my teacher, Mrs. Latham.”
“How come?” I asked, easing back to see his face.
“She’s really sad.”
“Do you know why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay, pick one you think she’d like.”
I loved seeing his eyes light up as he darted around the table to look. I knew it would take him a while; he wasn’t the kind of kid who ever made instant decisions. He always took his time, even when picking toys or deciding between the park and the beach. He was a muller.
“What did I say about this hair?” Amanda whined, walking over to me and tucking behind my ears the many pieces that were no longer in the very messy bun at the back of my head. “It needs to all be up.”
I scoffed.
Walking around behind me, she let it all down and then did what she could with her fingers and redid the bun.
“Come here,” I said, taking hold of her wrist and easing her around so I could really look at her.
She was beautiful. I’d always thought so. Her once all-blonde hair was now layered with different colors that perfectly complemented her golden coloring. Her high cheekbones, bright blue-green eyes, and easy smile made her the kind of woman strangers stopped and looked at. The fact that she was adorned in high fashion and stunning jewelry only added to her allure, but easily the best thing about her was her deep, throaty laugh. It had been what entranced Eddie the first time he heard it.
“You still look good.”
Instant glower. “Still? I’m thirty-two, just like you. What’re we, dead?”
I sighed dramatically.
“You just need to get some you-know-what, but I need you to make a good impression.”
I made a noise of disgust.
She waved a hand at her oldest. “What’s with him?”
“Mrs. Latham is sad. Why is his teacher sad?”
“I’m not certain, but my understanding is that she’s been trying to have a baby, unsuccessfully so far.”
“Ah,” I said, leaning around her so I could see Toby. “Hey, buddy, look in the basket under the table for the one with the red ribbon.”
Instantly, he knelt down and started looking through the wicker baskets, moving things gently, much nicer than anyone else helping me that day.
“Now listen,” Amanda began. “When Declan gets here, I need you to be—”
“Uncle Xan,” Toby called, holding it up. “Is this the one?”
I nodded, pleased I hadn’t sold the last fertility-and-growth bottle I’d made. The potency of the spell could be directed to having children, but also in the pursuit of a creative endeavor. That was where the spell part of spell bottle came in, the intention of the one who made it after finding out the need of the person it was for. Sometimes, like for abundance and prosperity, those didn’t need a specific path. Whoever wanted a bottle or a ball or a candle for that was looking to have an influx of money with either a business doing well or in some kind of undertaking. But with others, the invocation was necessary.
“Perfect,” I told him. “Now, do you want to wrap it, or do you want me to?”
“You. Because then you can clean it and say the words so it’s good when she gets it.”