Delia ordered some fancy latte with extra whipped cream that came in a giant ceramic mug, and we took our orders to a small table along the wall. I listened skeptically as Delia gushed over Becky’s sweet personality and supposedly fashionable pastry chef outfit. It was a white coat. How did you make that fashionable?
“She’s really cute, and successful! And look—” Delia wriggled her fingers, then pointed at my cappuccino. “Becky made a heart in your foam. I think she likes you.”
Okay…things were getting weird. There wasn’t anything etched in my foam on the walk to the table. I know because I checked to make sure there wasn’t cinnamon dust lurking in my cup. But sure enough, there was a heart now. The foreboding was back, coupled with an odd suspicion. First, the floodlights had gone out on their own, then my brand new saw bit the dust, and I’d spent a good ten minutes picking up the fallen trees by the woodshed that had been fine five minutes earlier. All mysterious events that took place strangely around Delia. Not to mention her uncanny aim from a second-floor window. I might not have witnessed it, but Delia hit me with that snowball.
“Huh, interesting.” My lips flattened into a grim line.
“That’s it? It’s just interesting?” Delia’s shoulders slumped, and she sucked a bunch of whipped cream from the top of her cup. “It’s more than just interesting. It’s a sign.”
I lifted my brow. “A sign?”
“Yeah, a signal from the universe. Sometimes guardian angels go out of their way to make things happen.” Delia gritted her teeth. “It’s vital you pay attention.”
A laugh choked the back of my throat. “I think it’s just coffee art. It’s artisanal. That’s why it costs so much.”
Delia’s nose twitched. I really enjoyed riling her up, and the coffee wasn’t half bad either. I sipped from my cup until the heart became just a smudge in the foam. Then I went in for the kill.
“So since you aren’t going to be leaving my inn anytime soon, what exactly are you doing here in Wood Pine?”
Delia took her time, savoring more of the whipped cream. My gaze followed her tongue as she licked some from the top of her lip.
“I’m a writer for an obscure magazine, and I’m doing an article on your grandmother’s Spells and Brews Ladies’ Club for our holiday edition. You’ve probably tried her Winter’s Moon Spiced cider. I’m including the recipe.”
“Ah, you’re one of them.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, mystical people.”
Delia shoved a lock of hair out of her face and scowled. “Let me guess. You don’t believe in magic.”
“I grew up with Grandma Jean, so just the opposite. I’m a firm believer. But lately—mostly in the last day or two—I believe in curses.”
“Very funny,” Delia mocked while I tried to contain another laugh. We drank our coffee in silence for a few moments until she motioned back toward Becky.
“I hope everything’s okay over there.”
Becky paced in the corner with a cell phone to her ear. Her features were drawn tight, and she whispered urgently into the handset. When she ended the call, she grabbed a bag sitting on the counter and approached our table.
“Here’s your grandmother’s order.” Becky’s voice wobbled as she placed the bag next to me.
“Is something wrong?” Delia asked. “That didn’t look like a pleasant phone call.”
Becky sighed and rubbed the lines between her forehead. “That was my father. He’s the mayor and responsible for getting the town's Christmas tree set up in the square. But there’s a problem with the distributer this year, and now there’s no tree. He’s very upset.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Delia said, stepping on my foot.
I glared at her from across the table as her eyes widened with a mischievous look.Nope. Not happening.I shook my head. She kicked my shin. Air hissed through my teeth from the sharp pain. That one was going to bruise.
“Jack's farm can provide a tree,” Delia offered, ignoring the slicing gesture I made under my chin. The threat only made her bolder. “Why don’t you come to the farm tomorrow and help us find the perfect tree? Jack would love to have you.”
Becky beamed. “Are you sure? That would be fantastic, but I know that there’s been some—”
“Mutual hostility between me and the town,” I cut in.
Delia spoke over me. “Which is why it’s a great idea! Not only will it help your father out of a jam, but it might help smooth things over with people. Plus, it will be great for business at the farm, and for my article.”
“It really would be a lifesaver,” Becky said, smoothing her hands down her apron. “Let’s do it! I’ll be by in the afternoon.”
