“You want a meeting with him in exchange for helping me send out food.” Which means I’ll owe Silas a favor. My brains screamsNo way. “Deal.”
The postman gives me what I think is his closest thing to a smile. “I have to get back, but thanks for the tea. Please refrain from tackling me again.”
“I will if you leave packages like a normal person.”
“No promises.”
“Great.”
“You know, Webb might be forced to cool off if Mayor Frost says something. It wouldn’t hurt for your mom to make a public appearance once in a while.” When Rett finishes the last of his tea, he stands. “Why’d the Warlock hire you anyway? I thought Witches and Warlocks don’t get along.”
I dodge the question. “He’s ill. That’s all I can say.”
“Figured he’d invite you here at some point. He loves your apple butter.”
“He said you picked some up for him recently. That might have gotten me the job, so thank you.”
“Recently? No. He’s left me letters with instructions to pick up and deliver from your shop for years.”
My breath disappears, my brain a few steps behind. “Years?”
He doesn’t hear me as he heads for the front of the house. “Oh, give RJ a shout. She just got back in town.”
As soon as he’s gone, my phone dings with a text from my mom. I’ve been graced with some rare inside service. Just a question about when I’m visiting next, but it reminds me of something. I hunt through my texts and find my old group chat with the other Witches in Foxe Holler: Carolina, Arna Jean, Ms. Marrow, her daughter (never answers). After graduation, Arna Jean left to travel before job hunting, but it’s been years since I’ve seen her. She must be about twenty-five, the same age I was when I came back to the Holler.
Oddly nervous, I start typing.
kentucky fried coven
Welcome back, RJ
proof of life?
Arna Jean Claywell
Honeydewwww
what’s this about closing the shop
Ms. Marrow
Hi y’all! Are we organizing something for Beltane this year?
Carolina Vázquez
I can host, but not if pastor webb is breathing down my neck
Why is he leaving me voicemails about you, Honey?
Arna Jean Claywell
Up to no good, honeydew?
Mom
Don’t get me started.
Has webb ever been this fussy
